A Triangle has Three Points

Chakotay, Tom and Harry are having a series of conversations. Told from alternating points of view.

Disclaimer: This is unbeta-ed slashfic. This means that it contains characters owned by Paramount being used in unorthodox ways, possible copyright infringements, male/male sex implicit or explicit, and questionable punctuation. If any of the above offend you, read no further! You have been warned.

Reviews and comments much appreciated!

Chakotay:

We were in Sandrine's that night. Me, Dalby, Ayala and some of the other guys from the Maquis days were celebrating something or other. Really, the event was just an excuse to get together and drink, boast and knock each other around and pretend it still is those good old days. I know, I know, war is hell and Cardassians and death and the Cause and all that. But in all of that there was also some great times just being with the guys.

Anyway, we were reminiscing about really good fucks of the past. Dalby always starts these conversations, but Ayala always ends them. Ken likes to hear about sex in all its forms, but it is Greg who really has the weird crazy bat-shit stuff happen to him. Like that time he was approached by a hermaphrodite hooker who wanted pay him to do everything… He's that enigmatic, dark and handsome type that just presents a challenge to anything female, or even half-female in this case.

So I guess I wasn't talking enough to satisfy the guys, because Ken Dalby suddenly turns where I'm looking and catches me staring at Tom Paris' ass. Shit. He smiles a bit, then dares me to approach Tom Paris. I accept, not because of the dare but because, hell, I've wanted to do this for years. All that time in the Maquis when he was a pilot on my ship I had wanted to put the moves on him, but I thought I'd have longer. I couldn't believe it when he was captured on his first solo mission, leaving me with an empty bed full of regrets.

So this time around I didn't want to fuck it up again by waiting too long, so it didn't take much to push me into finally making a move. Besides, Tom has spent the whole evening wiggling his ass in my face as he pretends to take forever over each shot of the pool game he is supposed to be playing with Harry. He's playing badly, despite taking so long over each shot – could it be because he's posing for me more than he's concentrating on the game? Harry looks seriously pissed-off… or as seriously pissed-off as the perfect Starfleet Ensign ever does, anyway.

I saunter slowly over to Tom, giving him plenty of notice of my intentions and time to move away if he chooses. He doesn't. I front right up to him until we're standing almost chest to chest. He's a fraction taller than I am, but I'm broader so I think it comes out about even in the end.

He smiles at me and casually asks, "What can I do for you, Commander?" I lean in without speaking and kiss him – might as well make my intentions clear from the start. I lower my voice to speak more intimately in this rather public setting, "I've always thought we had some unfinished business between us from the Alpha Quadrant, you know. Let's go back to my quarters and discuss it."

Tom looks flushed and flustered. His eyes dart behind me to the rest of the guys still at their table, and I realize that they are murmuring supportively. Tom swallows and finally stammers, "Is this an order from the First Officer?"

I blink in surprise. Tom is practically Starfleet aristocracy, he knows that an order of that kind would be completely illegal. Still, if he wants to be clear that this is totally personal, I can reassure him on that score, "This has nothing to do with the First Officer. This is Chakotay from the old days talking now." I smile at him, remembering how I lusted after him before, but as the Captain I just never felt right about pressuring him into anything while he was working for me. With my eyes fixed on his kissable lips I remind him, "There's plenty more where that came from. So what's it gonna be?"

Harry has come up behind Tom, but apart from a quick look at him I don't want to be distracted. What is taking the man so long? Does he want me or not? This should not be a difficult question!

Finally, Tom makes up his mind, "Fine, let's take it back to your cabin, then." He gives Harry a barely audible, "Later," and he's mine, all mine!

I can't help it, a huge grin breaks out across my face. I put my hand possessively on the small of his back and steer him out of Sandrine's, to approving chuckles from the rest of the guys. They'll forgive me for not coming back to the table.

In the turbolift and as we walk to my quarters it's all I can do to stop myself from running my hands all over him, but I restrain myself to a few light touches. We have plenty of time. I keep contact with his back and shoulder with just my fingertips, and even that minute touch has me getting hard. I've waited years for this.

Once the doors of my quarters slide closed I can't wait any more. I press him against the closed door, my hand behind his head and kiss him, hard. His mouth opens softly under mine and I thrust into him with my tongue as I grind my hips against his. Unless I do something to take the edge off, this is going to be over far too quickly, so I force myself to back away from him for a moment. He takes a deep breath – I think our kisses are affecting him as much as they are me. I'm dizzy with a delicious mix of lust and anticipation. I steady myself by walking over to the replicator and getting myself a drink. Just water this time, I've had enough beer. I ask him if he wants anything, but he just shakes his head.

With a cold glass of water in my hand, I feel a bit more in control. I smile as I remember the first time I met Tom, back in the original Sandrine's. He was so beautiful then, well, he still is. But he took my breath away that first time, and he's had this power over me ever since. "Do you remember how we met?" I ask him.

His voice is low and husky as he replies, "Yeah." He closes his eyes for a moment in memory. I wonder if I affected him as strongly as he did me? We never had sex back then, though the Spirits know how much I wanted to. But he was going to be on my crew, and it would have been complicated.

Besides, he was fragile then. He'd been through a lot with his career crashed on Caldik Prime, his family lost to him and he was developing an unhealthy dependency on alcohol and was starting to experiment with drugs. He was thin to the point of emaciation. I pulled him out of the gutter, helped him clean up a bit and got him flying again. He's beautiful at the helm, it's like watching someone dance. I'm glad I could give that back to him.

Now, he's blossomed. Strong, tall, gorgeous enough to take my breath away. Captain Janeway has made a silk purse out of her 'reclamation project'. I joked with her about that once, but Tom was partly my project as well. I'm so proud of what he's become, and that I had a part in that. It is even more of a miracle that he wants to be here with me – I'm nearly old enough to be his father, well, if I got going *very*early. But he's here, and as I catch him up in my arms again, I can feel him trembling against me. I pick him up and carry him into the bedroom, where I plan to make love with him all night – make him feel so good that he'll never want to leave.

He's heavier than he used to be, and that's a very good thing. There's a nice amount of muscle on him too. I'm glad he's looking after himself – there was a time when he didn't, or couldn't. It seems funny to think this now, but back then I thought he was an introvert. In retrospect he was almost suicidally depressed. Now that he's happier, his natural high spirits have reasserted themselves. He's quiet at the moment though. I guess he's a little overwhelmed – I know I am. After years of exchanging glances across various ships, all our dreams are about to come true.

I look down at him lying here, really here in my bed. His eyes are closed and his kiss-bruised lips are soft and pouting. I think there might even be a trace of blood on his lips – I didn't think I kissed him that hard, but I might have. I've been holding everything back for too long. He open his eyes and looks up at me. His voice is shaking slightly with restrained passion as he says, "What are you waiting for? Come here and take me, already."

Suddenly, I can't wait any longer. I strip my clothes off and throw myself down on the bed next to him. He's naked too and finally we are skin against skin, full length against each other. I reach down and grasp his erection and he groans. I don't want this to be over too quickly, so I move back a little and look down at us, enjoying the view. His skin is a light creamy contrast to mine. His cock is slightly longer than mine but not nearly as thick, and it has a lovely upward curve to it. I want to suck it, but I think if I do I'll come on the spot. Later, we'll have a chance to do everything later. Right now, I want to be inside him.

I roll over onto my back, pulling him on top of me and he rolls with me. He's heavier than he was, but not too heavy for me. He settles astride my thighs and starts to wriggle backwards, kissing his way down my body. Spirits, I want to feel his mouth around me, but I want his body too – what a delicious dilemma!

After letting him lick me just enough to make me wet, I pull him up again until his hips are just above mine, almost in position. Shit. I just realized I don't have any lubricant. Still, he's made me pretty wet already, I think it will be OK. "Hey, I don't have any lubricant…" I wait for him to tell me that it's OK, that he wants me anyway.

He opens his eyes and looks down at me, "I've got a solution for that." He reaches down and strokes himself off so fast I hardly realize what is happening. He must have been excited to get there so fast. He comes with a deep breath and sigh, which wasn't exactly what I was hoping for. I'll make sure we take longer next time.

He reaches for my duranium-hard erection and covers me with his come. It is so exciting I can't wait, but fortunately I don't have to. He slides himself down onto me in one smooth motion. His eyes are closed as he moves up and down on me and I'm so wound up it only takes a few thrusts into the blood-hot channel of his body before I'm groaning and coming deep inside him.

He remains still for a moment, then lifts himself off me and heads for the shower. Somehow, I'm obscurely disappointed. We both came, it was good – but something was missing. Maybe it was too quick? Maybe I built it up in my mind too much? I don't know, it just wasn't what I expected. I had hoped he would want to cuddle afterwards and sleep the whole night with me, but apparently not.

He reappears out of the shower more quickly that I had thought possible, and he's even washed his hair. I smile at him, "Did you take a course in speed-showering?"

He blinks at me, not seeming to get the joke. "I think I'll head off now, if that's OK with you."

I'm disappointed, but I don't want to pressure him. "Sure. See you on the Bridge." He leaves before I have a chance to ask him about a repeat date.

The bed feels cold and lonely without him, but his scent is still on the pillows. I burrow into them and soon fall asleep.

Tom:

Harry and I had been together exactly six months that night in Sandrine's. We kept it pretty quiet – I had lots of reasons to want privacy and Harry is kind of shy. He's cute that way. Our relationship was the best thing that ever happened to me. Shit. Tell it like it is – my relationship with Harry was the only good one I've ever had. It was a real adult, give and take, best friends and lovers relationship. That's probably why I screwed it all up. That's the Tom Paris fuck-up recipe. Take something good, something real and healthy and introduce the Paris Factor and you can go straight to hell, no warp barrier involved.

Anyway, that night we were playing pool and flirting a little, in anticipation of the night ahead. Our usual kind of sweet and saucy flirting that Harry likes. Just a little daring, not too overt. He likes the thrill of danger but isn't really an exhibitionist. So we were doing a little fooling around with double entendres about "balls" and "sticks" and little winks and touches as we moved around the pool table.

Then Chakotay and a bunch of his bruisers came in. They were drinking real alcohol and talking and laughing real loud. Macho bullshit about conquering heroes and willing damsels, mostly. I bet more than half of it was made up on the spot. But I could feel myself tensing up and my game going to hell. I got so nervous every time I had to turn my back to them my hands were shaking and I was fucking up every shot, despite taking twice as long as usual to set them up. Something about those guys reminds me of the bad old days in Marseilles, in the Maquis, in Auckland. The days when I had to watch my back every second or find a knife in it. The days when I had to trade everything I had for an ounce of safety, sell myself for an hour of sleep under someone's protection. Harry's sweet loving has eased the pain of some of that, but he can't erase my memory, much as we both wish he could.

My instincts were on red alert, so I knew immediately the instant Chakotay approached me from behind. I whirled around to face the enemy and sure enough he came right up to me, practically snarling in my face as he invaded my personal space. Slow and intimidating, I was sweating before he got anywhere near me. The look in his eyes… I know I'm taller than he is, but when he's that close it sure doesn't feel like it. He's got twice my muscle and he knows how to fight dirty. I'd always privately thought that he could probably snap my spine with one hand, but I never let him know I was afraid of him – let them scent your fear and you're gone.

So I gave him my best confident grin and forcing my voice to sound casual I asked, "What can I do for you, Commander?" Hopefully using his rank will remind him that we are *not* on board a Maquis vessel now. The Captain won't stand for any strong-arm stand over tactics from the First Officer to a Lieutenant under her command. At least, I hope she won't.

But Chakotay doesn't answer my question, doesn't even think about answering it, the bastard. He just grabs the back of my neck and yanks my face down and plasters his hot mouth on mine. I can feel his erection against my hip and it's bloody clear that, for reasons of his own, he's decided that tonight's the night he's going to buy what I no longer want to sell. Sure enough, he reminds me of what I used to be when he first met me. The whore that I thought was left behind when Harry showed me that maybe I really could be loved for myself. But Chakotay has no such illusions. He knows what I was, what I always will be and he reminds me, as if I could ever forget.

"I've always thought we had some unfinished business between us from the Alpha Quadrant, you know. Let's go back to my quarters and discuss it."

Yeah, right. Somehow I don't think *discussion* is what is on his mind. Damn it, I can feel myself blushing with humiliation. Curse of my fair skin that it gives away my thoughts. When I don't capitulate immediately, I can hear the Maquis goon squad starting to growl behind Chakotay as they prepare to back him up, probably by pounding me a bit to soften me up for the main event.

I swallow, trying to moisten my throat before I speak, realizing that the silence has gone on too long. I have one last chance to remind him that this is Voyager. That he has rank and status here, that he doesn't need to do this to me to prove his dominance. "Is this an order from the First Officer?" Obviously, it isn't. Such an order would be totally inappropriate, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by propriety at the moment.

Sure enough, he smirks at me and confirms that we're not playing by Starfleet rules any more. This is an older, darker confrontation with no rules at all. "This has nothing to do with the First Officer. This is Chakotay from the old days talking now." Shit. That Chakotay was a dangerous killer. In the bad old days I was always careful never to let him alone with me, never to turn my back on him. He wanted me, and he would have got me in the end - I think we both knew that. I never knew whether it was good luck or bad that I got captured before any of that happened.

I remember the old Maquis discipline, the way Chakotay kept order with just his glare and his fists. He never had to space anyone to keep control of the crew, because they all knew from just the look in his eyes that he wouldn't even hesitate. Sure enough, he's thinking along the same lines, and he reminds me with a cold smile, "There's plenty more where that came from. So what's it gonna be?"

I am paralyzed. I can't go back there, I can't be that man again. I don't have the walls I did then, I'm too open. It would kill me. I feel Harry coming up behind me, standing next to me, warm at my side. I am just about to tell Chakotay to take a long walk out a nearby airlock, when he flicks his eyes meaningfully at Harry. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. The threat is clear – do as I say, be my fuck-toy or I will *break* your lover. I can't let that happen to Harry – he's the only good thing I've ever had. I'm soiled already by everything I've ever done, but at least I can protect him from that. I fold, as Chakotay knew I would.

"Fine, let's take it back to your cabin, then." I am the sacrificial goat so that Harry will, if all goes well, never know exactly what it was that I saved him from. I give Harry a weak smile of farewell and whisper to him, "Later." It's a promise, the only one I can give him, that whatever happens to me, whatever Chakotay does to me, that I will return to him.

Chakotay has a triumphant and vicious grin spread right across his face. Fucking bastard. But there's nothing I can do about it and they all know it. Shit. Talk about negotiating from a position of weakness. The Maquis practically roar their approval as Chakotay pushes me out of Sandrine's with his hard hand resting on my hip. I spare a moment for the thought that at least he waited until we were in the turbolift before groping my ass.

He keeps his hands on me all the way to his quarters. He doesn't need to do this to control me. Shit. He knows he owns me already. He's just enjoying his possession, warming up for the sex games ahead. I can feel the clammy heat everywhere his hands have been on me. Fuck. I *have* to pull myself together. I used to do this every day, well, every night. Come on, Tommy, switch your mind off and let him do whatever he wants to your body – you used to have the trick of that. But it has been so long, and I never thought I would have to do this again.

As soon as the door to his quarters hisses shut, I'm slammed up against it. He has his hand clenched in my hair, twisting so hard it brings tears to my eyes. His mouth is on mine again, hot and demanding. This time I'm resigned. I open my mouth and let him have whatever he wants. God. This is going to be worse than I thought. He wants to play rough.

Even when I was turning tricks I tried to avoid the really rough and kinky stuff. There are lots of ways to put a mark off without ever saying no. Some types are turned on by resistance so if you just lie down and whimper they're not interested. Other types want the dominance, so if you can show them they're the boss from the start they'll go easier. Sometimes just looking away at the right moment with a bored expression will cool their fires. The idea isn't to play hard to get – just to be a little less appealing than the guy down the street, to imply that you wouldn't be as much fun, or might take a little more work than the next hooker who actually likes that stuff. The problem here is that there *is* no "next" on this ship – I'm the only one available. Shit.

Anyway, he never gives me a chance to make any of those moves. Pulling away from me he forces himself to calm down. Another bad sign – he wants this to be slow and long, and probably painful. Still, I take the chance to gasp in a breath of fresh air as he turns his back on me and walks over to the replicator for a drink. He asks me if I want anything, but if I open my locked throat I'm not quite sure what will happen. I don't trust my voice at the moment and the last thing I need is to break down crying, so I just shake my head.

Once he's got his drink, for some reason he doesn't appear to be in a hurry to get back to me. He smiles at me, taunting me, exerting his power over me. His next words confirm it, "Do you remember how we met?"

"Yeah." Oh, God yeah. Of course I remember. I was turning tricks because with my Starfleet record blazoned across my forehead I couldn't get any piloting work. Everyone thought the crash was because I was drunk, not that I was a drunk because I crashed. Anyway, whether it was the chicken or the egg, by the time Chakotay met me I was a cheap whore with a number of nasty addictions. I was so far gone then that he didn't even want to have sex with me. He locked me in a room on his ship and forced me to go cold turkey from *everything*. I thought I was going to die – I *wanted* to die. But after it was over he washed me, dried me out and taught me to fly again. People on Voyager don't realize it or don't think about it much, but Chakotay is quite the pilot himself.

Anyway, he's kind of a father-figure to me. He made me, so it has a certain symmetry if he now chooses to return me to what I was then. God. I'd better not start thinking about my father on top of everything else or I really will be sick. I feel the nausea rising up as I think about what I'm going to do next. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths and the danger passes.

Never take your eyes off the mark. I should know better than that. Just proves that my self-preservation reflexes are shot to hell since I started living soft on Voyager. Thinking that the danger was left behind in the Alpha Quadrant. Fuck.

Next thing I know there are fingers digging into my arms and the back of my thigh as I'm picked up bodily and carried into the bedroom. I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming, crying, throwing up or any other inappropriate response. This is a critical time – if I do the wrong thing now it will be worse not just for me, but for Harry. If I get it right now, get things rolling the right way this could all be just a vicious nightmare about twenty minutes from now.

I feel myself being thrown onto the bed, and the bounce jolts my teeth all the way through my lip. As if I'm not going to be sore enough already. I force my eyes open to see what is in store for me next. Chakotay is staring at me as he slowly starts to unfasten his shirt. Oh God. If this is going to happen, let it be quick and let it be over. I try to keep my voice light and level, but I don't think it worked. The tremor is obvious as I say, "What are you waiting for? Come here and take me, already."

The bastard obviously gets off on my fear, because he cuts out the strip tease routine and just peels out of his clothes as fast as possible. Suits me. I do the same in rapid movements, making sure that all my clothes end up on the same side of the bed for efficiency of getting them back later. After this is over, the last thing I want to do is be searching all over his quarters for my socks while he stares at my ass.

There is one other aspect of "getting ready" which now comes up, so to speak. I'm so frightened I don't think I can get it up at all, but I know that this will be required as part of the show. I don't know if he will actually want me to come – he's the kind who gets off on torture so he might want to leave me unsatisfied, but I'll work that out closer to the end. But sure as hell, he will want me to be hard. Hell. There's only one way to do that, so I close my eyes and pray to anyone who is listening that Harry will forgive me as I think about him, imagine it is *his* hands on me as I stroke myself quickly to hardness under the cover of removing my pants.

I'm ready by the time he throws himself on top of me, hardly hitting the bed at all. Sure enough, the first thing he does is check that I'm up for some games. I can't hold back my moan of agony as the huge hand that engulfs me rips me straight out of my dream of Harry. Nothing could be more different from his delicate musician's hands as he plays me like his clarinet. There is nothing subtle about Chakotay's grasp on me. There's no give and take here, he's all heat and demands.

He moves away from me a little, and he's staring at me, at my body. Fuck, he's creeping me out. Can't we just get on with it and get it over? Obviously he agrees, as he rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him. Damn. I thought he was just going to fuck me and let me go, but it looks like he wants me to work him a bit more than that. I slide down his body and take his cock into my mouth. I'm pretty good at this – with a bit of luck he'll let me suck him off and that's be it. I might even be able to make him finish up before he realizes what's happening and after one of my blow jobs no-one's asked for their money back yet.

I lick all around the head of his enormous cock. I hope this doesn't take too long or my jaws are going to ache like hell. I tongue-fuck the slit and stroke my lips up and down the shaft. I play with his balls and am just about to deep-throat him when he pulls me back up towards his head. Shit. No getting out of this the easy way.

I keep some tension in my thighs so that he can't quite get me in position to fuck me. He'd better not be thinking about fucking me dry, that shit really hurts, for both people. He might get off on pain but I don't and I want to be able to walk tomorrow. The same thought must have crossed his mind because he frowns and says, "Hey, I don't have any lubricant…"

"I've got a solution for that." Perfect excuse for me to do what I've been wanting anyway, and it will help me relax for what is going to be a painful penetration. That thickness is a lot bigger than Harry and I haven't taken anything else up the ass for a while. I stroke myself and imagine it is Harry touching me and the mental trick does it. I'm relieved I was able to come so fast, and now it is time for the final act. Nearly done.

I slather Chakotay's erection with my come before it starts to dry and thicken. Not as good as proper lube, but a lot better than just saliva or nothing. I climb on top of him and guide him into me, ride him for a few thrusts – then it is over. Thank God! I hold still for a moment, letting him soften inside me, then I leap off and walk to the shower as quickly as I dare. The least he can do is let me use some of his water rations. Besides, I want to go back to Harry as soon as I can – God knows what he must be thinking. I don't want to go to him sweaty and smelling of Chakotay's come.

In the shower I scrub myself down quickly and wash my hair – that's where the smell of semen tends to linger. My skin is pink and tingling by the time I've finished, but I still don't feel like I'm completely clean. Fuck. How can I clean out my insides from the touching I've had? How can I clean my mind from the feeling that I've sold my body for protection? I'm a whore again. All the little tips and tricks I learned on the street are coming back. Damn, I thought all that was behind me. I really thought I could move on from who I was then, but I can't. Maybe the prostitute on the inside is who I really am. Shit.

When I come out of the bathroom Chakotay is smirking at me, and seems to be thinking about the training of prostitutes as well. "Did you take a course in speed-showering?" he asks. Asshole. I can't believe he said that. This whole encounter is tacky enough without drawing attention to the sordid details. I take a deep breath and let it pass. The important thing is get out of here without making any promises about doing this again. It is inevitable – once started down this path I won't be able to refuse, but the longer I can put it off the better.

"I think I'll head off now, if that's OK with you." I keep my voice neutral. I'm not in a hurry to get away, oh no. Just saunter off casually, that's the way…

He's disappointed, I can see it. Probably wanted to have a second round and make it take all night, but I'm not feeling approachable and it must be showing. He concedes, "Sure. See you on the Bridge."

Oh God. How can I face the Bridge? The Captain? Never mind, that's tomorrow's problem. Tonight's problem is how to deal with Harry. I stalk out of Chakotay's quarters and head for Harry's.

* * * * * * * * * *

I arrive in Harry's quarters and he's asleep. I check the time. It's only 2330. It didn't take very long, and I had expected Harry to still be awake, maybe even still up waiting for me. He always likes to read in bed, says it helps him wind down, and he would usually be awake at this time if he doesn't have an early shift the next day.

I peel out of my clothes and climb in next to him, snuggling up behind him and curling myself around him. I'm taller than he is, so we both like to sleep this way, spooned together in full body contact. I'm a bit surprised to notice that he's wearing sleep pants – we haven't bothered with them for months. I throw one arm around him and hug him close, burrowing my nose into the back of his neck with a light kiss and prepare for sleep.

I am therefore completely taken by surprise to hear him ask me, "Did you come here straight from the Commander's bed?" Obviously he wasn't asleep at all.

I roll over onto my back and sigh. "Yeah. Sorry to wake you, I thought you'd still be up when I got here."

His voice is cold, chilling. "So it was just a quick fuck then, and you came straight back to me afterwards."

"Er, yeah. I had a shower first."

"Well *that* makes it all right then…" He still has his back to me, but I'm getting a horrible sinking feeling in my chest. I think he's disgusted with me. I think he doesn't want me any more. He probably thinks I'm a dirty whore and scum of the street, and doesn't want to touch me.

I decide to test my theory, "So, Haz, want me to suck you off?" This is one of his favorites, but I don't do it too often – reminds me of the bad old days. Usually an offer like that would have him pushing my head down before I can finish saying it. Now he doesn't even roll over to look at me.

"No thanks. I know where that mouth has been."

Shit, shit, shit. He thinks I'm too dirty, too used and he doesn't want me any more. He doesn't want me to please or pleasure him with the same mouth that Chakotay kissed.

It breaks my heart, but I have to ask him, "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"Yes." He's still not looking at me, and his voice is low pitched and flat. He must really hate me.

"OK, I'll see you on the Bridge tomorrow."

"No, I'm taking a personal day. I'll use it to collect all your personal stuff and beam it to your quarters. You won't need to come back here again." He can't even stand the sight of me long enough to hand over a box of personal items?

I gather up my clothes and pull them on without looking. I think my shirt is inside out, but it doesn't matter. I can't see clearly and I feel sick and dizzy. I did this for us, for Harry and me, so that we could be together and be safe. Doesn't he understand that? I did it because I love him so much – it would have been easier to say no and let the Maquis beat us both to a pulp but I didn't want that to happen to him. I didn't want Chakotay to use his leverage with the Captain to bust Harry down to Crewman. His career is his life, and he still hopes to get back to the Alpha Quadrant – I couldn't let Chakotay kill his dream just to save my own ass a little more of the kind of usage it has had plenty of times before.

I take one last look at Harry's back. He's breathing deeply, quietly. I think he's fallen asleep again. God. He must think I'm lower than a dung beetle if he doesn't even care if I stay or go.

I go.

Harry:

Tom and I were together six months, exactly. Our relationship had been a secret as Tom didn't want anyone to know about us. I was hoping to change his mind about that. We met for an evening of pool in Sandrine's. I flirted with him increasingly obviously – I was dying for someone to notice and ask us something that would "out" us a public couple. I loved Tom so much, I hoped he wouldn't deny our relationship if actually asked point blank. He's older and more experienced than I am, but we're good together. I'm younger than he is, but I know my own mind. I might not be sophisticated enough to match him, but I'm a quick learner. My big fear was always that he would find someone older, more exciting and interesting, and leave me. Then, of course, that's exactly what happened.

We were playing pool, and from the moment Chakotay came in with some other Maquis guys, I could see that Tom was distracted. He and Chakotay have this *thing* going – Tom teases and Chakotay growls, and you can almost see the sparks of sexual tension flying off them. I don't know why they never got together in their Maquis days, but I can see that Chakotay still wants him.

So Tom was pretending to play pool with me, but was spending more than half his time glancing surreptitiously towards Chakotay. He was playing badly too, which should have tipped me off. Tom Paris only loses at pool if he's setting someone up for a major hustle, or when he's thinking so much about sex that he loses concentration. Since he wasn't hustling me, he must have been thinking about Chakotay. I'd like to say that he was thinking about *me* but that would be wishful thinking.

When Chakotay approached Tom, he whirled around instantly. Slut. He'd been waiting for this all night. Sure enough, he smiles and says to Chakotay, "What can I do for you, Commander?" Oh so casual, and as if the *world* didn't know what the Commander would like him to do… Then, he does it. He just goes for it and sticks his tongue down Tom's throat, right there in front of me! I think I'm going to throw up, I can feel a helpless jealous rage rising up inside me. I know I can't compete with the Commander – he's intense, mysterious, powerful and I know Tom can't resist a challenge. I don't know what their history was together, but I bet it was full of flirting. Tom's not exactly a hermit, and he's bragged about his experience often enough.

Chakotay's voice is low and tender as he confirms my worst fears, , "I've always thought we had some unfinished business between us from the Alpha Quadrant, you know. Let's go back to my quarters and discuss it."

Tom blushes, and I guess he's remembering the good times they had together. He's tongue-tied, and that never happens when he's with me. Finally he manages to get out, "Is this an order from the First Officer?" He's decided to play hard to get, and the rest of the Maquis have realized it too. There's a low murmur from their table, but they stay in their seats to watch the show.

Chakotay smiles slowly, "This has nothing to do with the First Officer. This is Chakotay from the old days talking now." Great. They're going to resume their relationship from wherever they left off, and Tom isn't even giving me a second glance. I should have known that as soon as the Commander crooked a finger at him, he'd drop me like a hot potato and go running after Chakotay. He's staring at Tom's lips where he just kissed them. "There's plenty more where that came from. So what's it gonna be?"

God, I can't believe it. Tom's thinking about it. He's going to chuck our relationship and our six month anniversary out the window for a kiss and quick fuck with Chakotay. I move up beside him, standing as close as I dare, but he doesn't look at me. Chakotay glances dismissively at me, but he knows I can't compete with him. Then Tom agrees to go with him back to his quarters, and we all know what's going to happen next. I'm just trying to work out something to say, when Tom kills me.

He turns around, and like we were strangers in any pub anywhere in the galaxy he flips me an offhand "Later," as he walks out the door. Chakotay's tongue is practically hanging out and he already has his hands all over Tom's back as they walk out together. The Maquis are laughing and hooting at them as they leave, but neither of them even seem to notice. Too wrapped up in each other to care. I wonder if they'll even wait to get back to Chakotay's quarters, or if they'll just fuck like dogs in the turbolift? Damn, damn, damn.

I try to retain a shred of dignity as I rack my cue and walk back to my quarters. Of course, it's even worse when I get there. Tom's vids on my shelf, Tom's clothes all over my living room, Tom's toothbrush and razor in my bathroom. I can't stand to look at them, to think that I was going to suggest moving in together tonight. Even though it is still early I go to bed and cry myself to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

I wake to hear Tom moving quietly around the bedroom. My heart leaps for a moment, then I remember. Then I'm angry. How could he do this? How could he run off for a quickie with the Commander and then come straight back here to me? Or is it even worse – does he think he can have both of us at the same time? I have some pride. I realize that I can't turn to face him or he'll see the tearstains and swollen eyes from my earlier crying jag. I don't want him to know how much he's hurt me.

He seems to think I should be totally OK with all of this. He snuggles up behind me, and his skin is still slightly moist. I hope he isn't still sweaty from his amorous struggles with the Commander. I can't help myself, I ask him, "Did you come here straight from the Commander's bed?"

He ignores my hostile tone and acts as if I should be perfectly OK with this. He settles himself more comfortably in my bed before answering. "Yeah. Sorry to wake you, I thought you'd still be up when I got here."

I can't believe him. He was tomcatting around and he seriously expected me to wait up for him? I have to ask. I don't want to know, but I ask anyway and he confirms my worse fears. "So it was just a quick fuck then, and you came straight back to me afterwards."

"Er, yeah. I had a shower first." Finally, he seems to be getting the message that I'm pissed off about this. He sounds uncomfortable, sign of a guilty conscience I hope.

"Well *that* makes it all right then…" I pour on the sarcasm, as he doesn't seem to be getting anything more subtle. I stay where I am, giving him the cold shoulder.

Next, he tries to bribe me. "So, Haz, want me to suck you off?" I'm tempted to accept. He hardly ever does that, even though he knows I love it. He tends to save it for special occasions, like when he needs to make up to me. But I'm not going to be distracted by sex. It must have worked for him before, but I can't weaken now. He'll play both of us if he can, and laugh at us both behind our backs.

I reach for the coldest, cruelest thing I can think of. I know it hurts him when I refer to his past as a rent-boy. That was long ago, before he met me and I don't hold it against him, but I know it is a cheap shot which will hurt him so I say it. "No thanks. I know where that mouth has been."

He goes quiet at that. I think he's finally realized that I'm serious. I won't share him. He can be with me or he can be with Chakotay, but he can't have it both ways. I hope he's thinking about that.

He must have been because then, oh God, he makes up his mind and chooses Chakotay. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" It's a threat, a reminder that if he goes now he won't come back. I will be alone.

I don't care. I would rather have my memories of Tom than have to take him into my bed, still warm from loving someone else. So I decide to break it off clean, "Yes." I don't trust my voice for any more than that. If I say more, he'll hear the tears that are rising up in my chest and threatening to choke me.

Spitefully, he reminds me that I can't avoid him for long. "OK, I'll see you on the Bridge tomorrow."

I make a decision. I'm not going to let him do this to me. He will be fine – he was the one who wanted to keep our relationship a secret, presumably so that when something like this happened he could go back to normal and pretend nothing ever happened. Well, I'm not a slut or a Vulcan. I can't just turn my emotions on and off. I certainly can't face him on the Bridge tomorrow.

I tell him, "No, I'm taking a personal day." Then I realize what else I need to do to break this off cleanly. I can't face him, so my last act of love for him will be to help him move on. "I'll use it to collect all your personal stuff and beam it to your quarters. You won't need to come back here again." He won't be tortured by coming back to our shared bedroom, he probably won't even remember how many times we made love here. Anyway, that's all over now.

I can feel the heat of tears pricking behind my eyes again. Damn, I'm tired of crying over Tom. But I won't let him see. I take deep slow breaths and try to get myself under control, at least until he goes. He dresses quickly and leaves without another word. He's probably glad to get away from me without any more fuss or an emotional scene.

I hear the door slide shut behind him, and then I give in to my tears.

TBC…