The Game By Morticia Part 4/? As Tom passed the command chairs at warp speed and dived onto his chair with scant seconds to spare, Kathryn's words about Tom sashaying his ass made Chakotay shift uncomfortably on his seat as his long-neglected cock made a futile attempt to attract his attention. Spirits, surely Tom's uniform had never been *that* tight before, he asked himself. It had been bad enough last night when Tom had spent the whole of their second date accidentally dropping his chess pieces on the floor and then having to bend over and pick them up. Tom had explained that chess made him nervous because of the way the Admiral had always turned it into a blood-sport. His face had been so white, and his fingers so trembling, every time that he made a move, that not only had Chakotay concluded that Tom genuinely couldn't help dropping his pieces, and the consequent sex show that resulted, but that he would never suggest chess as a pastime again. Chakotay knew that Tom lived almost his whole off-duty life in those damned jeans that were so tight he could only imagine Tom pouring himself into them, so he had tried just to enjoy the view and not let them distract him *too* much. For Tom to arrive on the bridge in a uniform that nearly cut the crack of his ass in two, however, was almost too much to cope with. He figured Tom was sending him a message and as much as his head wanted to ignore the signal, his cock wasn't feeling so restrained. Tonight he would at least kiss Tom goodnight, he decided abruptly, and prayed that one taste of those honeyed lips wouldn't rip away his self-control. He had spent the last two nights in the shower after Tom had left, re-acquainting himself with mother thumb and her four agile daughters. Tom shifted uncomfortably on his seat. Shit, his ass felt like it was going to split in half. After he had left Chakotay's quarters in disgust, he had gone to Harry's place. Harry had been so understanding, not to mention accommodating, that Tom had spent the night, waking far too late to get back to his own quarters unseen to change before shift. Too canny to risk using Harry's replicator for a uniform, he had borrowed one of Harry's, trusting that his high-ankle black boots would conceal the shortness of the pants legs. It had never occurred to him that Harry's ass was so damned small though. Tight, yes, small, no. He hadn't been able to even fasten them without discarding his boxers first, so the seam was biting into his ass. Shit, Harry would probably never wash them again once he had given them back, he figured. Knowing Harry, he'd keep them as some kind of trophy. He sat, and shuffled, and prayed for lunch-time so that he could finally get back to his own quarters and change. ~~~ "Thanks, Haz," he said, emerging naked from his bedroom with the pants in one hand while the other hand rubbed antiseptic cream into the sore red skin of his ass. With typical Paris luck, they had encountered a large asteroid field mid-morning and as Chief Pilot he had been forced to man his post until they were safely clear. He hadn't managed to remove his sore ass from the helm until gone 1800. "Oh, don't bother," Harry squeaked as Tom headed for the refresher with the pants. "I'll sort that out later." Tom sighed and handed over the pants. Just as he had suspected, Harry obviously wanted to keep them. Probably was jealous of them for getting that close to his ass, which was something Harry himself had never accomplished. "Owch, that *does* look sore, Tom," Harry gasped, as Tom bent over to retrieve his boots from where he had kicked them off in his panic to get the pants off. "Since I'm kind of responsible, I probably ought to help you with that cream, Tom," Harry added with a sly smile. Tom shook his head firmly. Hell, it wouldn't hurt him to throw Harry a bone, he figured, but he was determined that tonight was the night with Chakotay, whether the big man was ready or not. Maybe he could ask Chakotay to rub his ass for him. It would certainly help to break the ice. ~~~ Since it was their third date, and chess had been ruled out as an activity, Chakotay decided to spend a large portion of his replicator credits on some quality holodec time. He had taken advantage of his position, and Kathryn's romantic nature, to book a four-hour time slot. Knowing Tom's preference for all things French, he had programmed an exclusive restaurant on the craggy Normandy shoreline, complete with a panoramic view of an atmospheric storm that caused the waves to crash against the sea wall and send their spray against the windows. The contrast of the warm fire and good food inside, with the raging storm outside, gave an ambience that reminded him oddly of Tom himself. The pilot was equally wild on the surface, yet surprisingly warm and welcoming underneath. In a way, by highlighting his appreciation of the beauty of the untamed sea, he hoped to portray his intention to accept Tom as he was, rather than try to mold him into a more generally acceptable persona. There was beauty in diversity, strength in uniqueness, and something precious about Tom's need for independence. Chakotay didn't want to tame Tom, he just wanted to be allowed to adore him for what he already was. ~~~ "Shit," Tom muttered under his breath, shuffling on his chair, and pushing his fork listlessly around his plate, destroying the complex pattern of culinary delight that had cost Chakotay a week's worth of rations. Chakotay swallowed miserably. Although Tom had *seemed* to appreciate the program when they first entered, he had spent the last hour looking increasingly uncomfortable. "If you want, we can change the program, Tom," he offered, inwardly flinching at the cost to his rapidly depleting rations but desperate to put the smile back on Tom's face. Tom gave him a brave smile. "Sorry, Chak. It's not the program. The program's great. Thank you." "Then what's wrong? Is it me? Have I upset you somehow? What have I done?" Chakotay asked. Since Tom could hardly reply "You haven't fucked me yet," without sounding like a slut, he moved swiftly to plan B. "It's, ummm, it's personal Chak, nothing to do with you, honest," he whispered miserably. Chakotay leaned over, took his hand and squeezed it encouragingly. "What is it? What's wrong?" "It's, ummm, it's too embarrassing to talk about," Tom replied, the intense blue of his eyes deepened by the hot flush that spread across his cheeks. "Please tell me," Chakotay asked, beginning to feel decidedly concerned. "It's kind of medical, that's all," Tom said, trying to shrug nonchalantly. Chakotay surged to his feet. "That's it, we're going to Sickbay," he announced firmly. Poor Tom was obviously unwell but hadn't wanted to break the date with him. The realisation warmed his heart, but enough was enough. If Tom was ill, he needed a Doctor, not a romantic dinner. "I can't," Tom wailed in horror. "It's too embarrassing, I'd never be able to look the Doc in the face again." "I don't understand, Tom. What could possibly be too embarrassing for you to see the Doctor about?" Chakotay demanded. In a near whisper, Tom reluctantly confessed, "It's my ass." "Your *what?*" "My ass," Tom sniffed miserably. "What's wrong with your ass, Tom?" Tom flushed again. "It's a bit raw. I don't wear underwear," he saw Chakotay color a little and grinned inwardly, "and something went wrong with my replicator this morning. My uniform came out too small." "I noticed," Chakotay managed to reply before the memory of Tom's ass tightly sheathed in black, caused him to lose his voice. "Anyway," Tom resumed doggedly, "the seam of the pants rubbed me and I couldn't reach the spot with my personal regenerator, and I couldn't possibly go to Sickbay, and it's not something you can exactly ask someone for help with, is it?" "No, I guess not," Chakotay choked. "I mean it's not like I'm in a relationship, is it? Shit, I didn't mean to say it like that, I mean we *are* in a kind of relationship, at least I hope we are, `cos I do want us to be, but we aren't in *that* kind of relationship yet, so I couldn't ask you, only I couldn't ask anyone else, either, cos you might find out and take it the wrong way, and oh hell, I just don't know what to do," Tom gasped, finally running out of breath. Chakotay took a deep breath as he pondered Tom's panicked monologue. Tom was right, he *would* take it the wrong way if Tom dropped his pants in front of someone else, whatever the reason. Hell, no one was looking at Tom's ass except him, he decided. "Come on," he said firmly, rising to his feet again and offering Tom his hand. "We going to Sick bay?" Tom asked miserably. "No, we're going back to my quarters. I've got a regenerator, and if that doesn't do the trick, there's a few old remedies in my med-kit that will sort the problem," he said kindly. "I'm SO embarrassed," Tom whispered as they left the holodec and limped towards Chakotay's quarters. Chakotay hauled him to a halt, pulled him in for a hug and then placed a chaste kiss on Tom's forehead. "Don't be," he chided softly. "You're special to me, Tom Paris. There isn't an inch of your body that isn't special to me because it is part of you. I promise I won't act any differently than if I was applying the regenerator to your arm or leg," he promised. ~~~ Harry listened in growing disbelief. "And he meant it?" he demanded. "Yeah. The guy is fucking unbelievable, Haz," Tom spat. "I'm lying on his bed, my pants round my ankles, my ass in the air, and he's running his fingers up and down my crack with this thick gel on his hands, and I'm so fucking turned on that my ass is practically winking at him, and he just fucking gets up, tells me to be careful about wearing tight trousers for a couple of days, pulls me to my feet and helps me to get dressed again." "Didn't you say anything to him?" Harry asked. "What the fuck was I supposed to say, Haz? Shit the guy had just poked his finger up my asshole just in case I needed any medicine there too, and when I moaned my head off to let him know how good it felt, the bastard just apologised for hurting me." "Shit Tom, he *has* got ice in his veins," Harry stated in disbelief, grasping his hands tightly to stop them trembling. Oh shit, if only Tom had let *him* put the medicine on, he thought. *He* wouldn't have wasted the opportunity. What the fuck was wrong with Chakotay, anyway? "You wanna stay tonight, Tom?" he offered, figuring the best way to break Tom out of his self-pity would be to let him fuck him through the mattress. If he couldn't touch Tom's ass, the second best thing was always to offer his own. "Nah, thanks Haz, but I'm tired. I'm going to have an early night," Tom said miserably. As Tom left his quarters, Harry's heart lurched. Fuck. There *was* nothing wrong with Chakotay after all. The bastard had obviously sussed Tom out and was stringing him along. Tom had turned down Harry's ass, and that was serious, that meant Tom *was* falling for Chakotay big time. On the other hand, as clever as Chakotay was being, his campaign was doomed to failure, because eventually he would claim Tom's ass and would then finally fall under the pilot's spell. And as soon as it happened, Tom would lose interest in him. Leopards didn't change their spots. ~~~ "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh TOM!" Chakotay screamed, his hand sliding up and down his cock, greased by the same gel that his fingers had applied to Tom's reddened ass. It had been no wonder the pilot had been unable to eat his dinner. The crack of his ass had been raw. Chakotay had tried so hard to be professional, knowing that taking advantage of Tom's injury would be tantamount to abuse, yet he hadn't been able to resist snaking his well-greased pinky finger into Tom's rosy pucker to supposedly apply medicine there too. Tom's moan of discomfort had shocked him to his senses, and ashamed of himself, he had rapidly finished the treatment, had dressed Tom and sent him home before he lost control of himself again. It was probably just as abusive to be doing this though, even if the pilot was unaware that he was jerking off in his shower, deliberately using the same gel to recapture the feeling of Tom's flesh beneath his fingers. Hell, as soon as Tom was feeling better, he was going to make a real move on him, he decided. Now he had seen what Tom's tight jeans barely concealed, he wasn't going to be able to rest until he had worshipped Tom's ass as it had been designed to be worshipped. From the inside. TBC