Hostage

By Morticia

Part 13

It was nearly an hour before Tom re-emerged in the tiny cockpit dressed in an oil-stained grey maintenance overall, his long hair tied back in a loose ponytail. He was still wearing the K’tech’nar in his ears and presumably under the baggy overall too. Chakotay swallowed dryly before he spoke.

“You took a long time, I was beginning to get worried.”

“Well I could hardly have gotten lost,” Tom snapped back irritably, “I couldn’t find anything to wear.”

“Where are the clothes you wore to come here? I thought you left them on the ship.”

Tom flushed uncomfortably

“They don’t fit,” he finally admitted.

Chakotay looked at him questioningly.

Tom tried to shrug nonchalantly.

“It seems I’ve shrunk. I knew you had grown, so it never occurred to me that the difference between us was on both sides. I tried putting my pants on and they’re not only six inches too long in the leg but so big in the waist that they kept falling down. I was looking for a belt or some rope or something and found a pair of Neelix’s overalls. They’re still too big but at least they tie at the waist and I didn’t have to roll the legs up. They kind of remind me of Auckland though,” he finished sadly.

Chakotay thought Tom looked more like a street urchin than a federation prisoner, particularly given his still bare feet.

“No shoes?”

“They don’t fit either. Even my fucking feet have shrunk,” Tom said despondently. “Do you think it will get worse?”

“No, I don’t think so. When I first arrived on the B’rech’k ship I remember that the k’tech were all nearly as tall as me, so I think you are probably the size you will remain now.”

“Thank god for that.” Tom said fervently

“It’s not so bad, Tom. You were always particularly tall, all this means is you are now an average height.”

"That's easy for you to say, isn't it, Commander?" Tom spat viciously. "We both get infected, you become some bad-ass giant, get given some fucking luxurious quarters, a couple of sex-slaves and a senior position on the B'rech'k ship and guess what happens to me? I'm raped, thrown in a fucking larder to be eaten and discover I've shrunk six inches. Bloody typical. You landed on your feet and I got fucked up the ass! It’s the story of my life!”

Chakotay had to stifle an urge to hit him. Tom obviously had no idea of what Chakotay had suffered at the hands of the B'rech'k and his pride wouldn't allow him to tell Tom the sordid details. He told himself that Tom had been abused and terrified and he understood that it must seem unfair to the pilot that their physical changes were so unequal. He could have told Tom everything, the way he had been tied down, drugged and raped by the k'tech until his cock had bled but he couldn't bring himself to reveal his own shame and humiliation.

"I seem to recall being 'fucked up the ass' myself last night," he reminded Tom calmly and was gratified by Tom's deep flush but still Tom argued the point.

"I didn't get the chance to fuck you actually, did I? Shit, I can't believe it, I actually had my dick inside your oh so holy ass and still you were calling the shots. You never give up do you? You always have to be the one in charge. You love playing the big man so much I'll bet you’re laughing your fucking head off at what's happened to me. You probably think I deserve it. You can’t wait to see me grovelling at your feet again."

"I don't think it's a laughing matter at all, Paris. The only laughable thing here is the way you are feeling so damned sorry for yourself. If you hate me so much, why the hell didn't you let me bring one of the other k'tech with us?"

"Yeah, that's right, you'd have liked that, wouldn't you? Making me fight over you, or maybe you just can't stand the thought of me touching you at all. I don’t mean anything to you, do I, you bastard?"

Chakotay blinked in confusion, he couldn't get his head around the mixed signals Tom was giving him. On the other hand, to be fair, perhaps Tom couldn't either.

"Why DID you come back for me, Tom?" he asked.

"I told you. I felt guilty about you taking my place."

"Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?" Tom spat but ducked his head away nervously.

"No, I don't think so. Given the fact that you seem to have such a low opinion of me, Tom, I don't think it is."

"I don't have a low opinion of you. Believe it or not I really admire you, Chakotay. I don't hate YOU, I just hate the way you make me feel."

"How DO I make you feel?"

"Like shit. Like the biggest fuck-up you've ever had the misfortune to meet. It doesn't matter how hard I try, you still hate me."

"I don't hate you, Tom Paris, I love you." Chakotay finally admitted.

Tom looked at him in disbelief and then laughed.

"It's okay Chakotay, you can cut the corny chat-up crap. I've already agreed to fuck you. It's not like I have any choice anyway. Then again, I guess I should be glad at least that you don't want to fuck me."

Chakotay swallowed his hurt at Tom's casual dismissal of his confession of love. Then again, what had he expected Tom to say anyway? He latched onto Tom's final comment though.

"I think the essence flows better this way, Tom. Besides I am too frightened of damaging you."

"Ripping me in two, you mean, I’ve seen smaller cocks on a horse."

Chakotay couldn't think of an appropriate reply so he just gave an embarrassed smile. Tom flushed again and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

It was probably more than an hour before Chakotay heard a low mumbling and turned to see Tom rocking in his seat and swearing to himself.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Tom was whispering, over and over.

"What's wrong, Tom?" Chakotay asked and as Tom's head jerked in his direction, the older man was concerned by how feverish Tom was beginning to look. Tom's eyes were over-bright and slightly unfocused.

"I bet Wi and Skan let you put it in their asses,” Tom said suddenly.

Chakotay bit his lip uncertainly at the unexpected comment.

“Is that why you wanted to bring them with us? I bet the little sluts couldn't get enough of you." Tom hissed bitterly.

"That's not the reason and you know it," Chakotay replied mildly, too worried by the oddity of Tom's accusation to be hurt by it.

Tom just continued to rock miserably, a thin beading of perspiration forming on his brow. Chakotay had barely noticed the sweating before the unmistakable smell of K'tech hit him.

Fire arced into his groin and he felt his heartbeat hitch up a gear to deal with the sudden rush of his blood.

Black eyes locked with blue and an almost tangible need drew them as invisibly and inexorably as a tractor beam.

Their argument forgotten, the two men met and entwined themselves together and madness reigned once more.

~~~

It took only five days for the tiny ship to reach the defence grid. Chakotay could hardly believe that he had been on the B’rech’k ship for almost a month and in so short a time a straight trajectory could return them to where his nightmare had begun.

There had been no pursuit. At first he had assumed that their cloaking device was hiding them from the B’rech’k but then he had remembered Ikton telling him that the B’rech’k ship was on an autopilot and couldn’t deviate far from its pre-programmed course. It worried him that it had taken him so long to remember such a pertinent fact.

To some extent his mind still worked with its previous efficiency and yet he seemed incapable of grasping some most fundamental thoughts and he also realised that he had completely forgotten how to navigate the ship. He remembered feeling scorn at the B’rech’k for having failed to learn the technology that they used. Now he wondered whether a B’rech’k was even capable of such a rudimentary task.

The B’rech’k were designed to be warriors, not thinkers. So much for their supposed superiority, B’rech’k were evidently little more than Sex-craved Neanderthals who only had wrested power by means of their size, strength and the k’tech biological need to be subservient to them.

Which lead him to Tom’s increasingly worrying behaviour.

In the first couple of days, during the short periods when they were both mutually lucid, Tom’s self-pity, anger and occasional razor-sharp wit had been an endless source of hurt and irritation to the older man. Yet Tom had gradually stopped complaining. He didn’t even volunteer ideas any more. They had to be cajoled out of him now with smiles and pettings and sometimes even threats and scowls.

As the hours and then days progressed, Tom had slowly lost the ability to want anything other than to please the older man.  He seemed to live only in the moment, unwilling to look forwards to what might happen to them. He had lost himself completely in his role as though by doing so he abdicated all responsibility to the older man.

So Chakotay was now sat in the pilot’s chair, a naked Tom curled contentedly on his equally bare lap. He couldn’t even remember the point at which it had become too ludicrous to  consider getting dressed again.  Even between the insane bouts of sex the comfort of lying together, skin against skin, pore against pore, was a temptation that neither of them could resist. They were becoming like two halves of one person, cruelly trapped in two bodies and seeking any sensation that let them feel joined.

It had been the third morning when Chakotay had woken to find Tom sat astride him, his ass filled with the older man’s cock. Tom had been riding him dreamily, a far off contented expression on his face.  It had been several hours later that Chakotay had recovered enough to query how Tom had achieved the feat. Tom had looked at him with increasingly familiar blankness and then simply said:

“You needed it.”

And it had been true in a way. They were both discovering that unless Tom first absorbed Chakotay’s B’rech’k essence, he didn’t then produce enough of his own k’tech essence to feed Chakotay back. It was a symbiotic loop, which up till then had been adequately achieved by Tom’s greedy feasting on Chakotay’s cock.

“But how?” Chakotay had asked in bewilderment. He was far too large to even contemplate entering Tom and yet apart from a little red swelling the younger man showed no mark of his own involuntary entry.

Tom had swayed uncertainly, biting his lips as he tried to explain how something that had previously terrified him beyond reason had suddenly become the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

“I smelt your need,” he had whispered “and I knew I had to drink your essence but as I came closer to you I started feeling really weird, like I was leaking.”

“Leaking?”

Tom had blushed, “My ass was leaking. It was full of this kind of mucus or something and the nearer I got to you the worse it felt. And then I just KNEW what I had to do and I did it.”

“Didn’t it hurt?” Chakotay had asked

“Hurt?” Tom had repeated as though the concept had no meaning to him, “No, I just kind of opened up and you came straight into me. It was, it was wonderful. You filled me.” And Tom gave another dreamy smile.

Chakotay had remembered the ease with which the K’tech had ridden him through his first weeks of captivity and realised that the ability to naturally lubricate themselves and then relax their ass muscles completely was obviously yet another of the symptoms of the adaptation.

At first he had been glad that Tom had finally overcome his fear of penetration. It had seemed to make their relationship more equal in a way. Tom would ride him until he was filled with B’rech’k essence and then he would give the essence back, transmuted and changed, by his own penetration of Chakotay.

But Tom’s action had actually been the first proof that the hormone drug had worked and that the pilot had become pure k’tech. Since the moment Chakotay had woken with Tom on his lap, he had noticed the progressive inability of the younger man to take any independent action that wasn’t related to sex.

Whenever he himself had felt sufficiently clear-headed to detach himself, Tom had steadfastly clung to him, only speaking if addressed, constantly staring at him in eager anticipation of a way to please him and sulking horrendously if deprived of tasks to fulfil.  Chakotay had begun to allow Tom to prepare and fetch their meagre rations and then had started inventing more menial tasks for the pilot in an effort to keep him happy and off his lap long enough for him to try and think.

Tom constantly demanded attention, reassurance and sex. Chakotay, when he wasn’t filled with lust, was beginning to find Tom’s hungry need for him to be an almost unbearable strain.

Having the man he loved kneeling at his feet, begging for his touch, pleading to serve him with his blue eyes completely devoid of any true feeling, make Chakotay want to die. The more Tom acted as though Chakotay was the centre of his universe, the greater Chakotay’s desolation became. He actually missed Tom’s smart-mouthed complaints and irreverent attitude.

Yet sometimes he found himself praying that they never caught Voyager, that Tom was never cured and then the realisation of those selfish desires made him curse the monster he was becoming.

Perhaps the close confines of the shuttle and the re-filtered air were exacerbating the problem. Neither of them could escape from the smell of the other and so by the fifth day they had almost been mutually incapable of releasing each other.

Only the approaching defence grid had allowed Chakotay to break free of his haze of lust and he suspected that that was just a different B’rech’k imperative taking charge - the need to protect.

Chakotay could see the leading edge of the defence grid growing ever larger on the tiny viewscreen. He knew it meant danger and he also knew he was incapable of navigating them through it.

“Tom,” he murmured softly into the silky golden hair. It took a little time for his voice to penetrate Tom’s sleepy haze.

“Yeah?” Tom mumbled and looked up so that his brilliant blue eyes gazed adoringly into the black depths of Chakotay’s concerned stare.

“We have a problem,” Chakotay told him, looking worriedly at the minefield.

Tom stared at him blankly and then a slow smile spread over his lips and Chakotay felt Tom’s hand questing down towards his groin. He caught the slim wrist and pushed it away.

“Not THAT kind of problem,” Chakotay said irritably. Tom’s face fell and his eyes took on an expression of  bewildered worry.

“We have to get through the defence grid, Tom. I need you to pilot the ship.”

Tom’s eyes cleared, “Sure, Chak,” he said with a sunny smile but he just snuggled tighter on Chakotay’s lap and started to lave a small circle around Chakotay’s left nipple with his tongue.

“Now, Tom,” Chakotay snapped as the jolt of essence through his chest fired downwards and reawakened his groin.

Tom’s tongue licked a lazy path up Chakotay’s chest and then he nuzzled into the older man’s neck.

While he could still control himself, Chakotay jumped to his feet and Tom hit the floor with a painful thud.

Unfortunately it just put him on his knees in front of Chakotay’s naked groin and Tom took full advantage of the opportunity. He opened his lips and swallowed Chakotay whole.

Several hours later, when his body was buzzing with essence and Tom was slumped in exhaustion on the floor, Chakotay’s head cleared a little and he tried again.

“Tom, we’re in danger. You HAVE to fly us through the grid.” He urged.

Tom bit his lip and looked disinterestedly up at the viewscreen. He just wanted to crawl back into Chakotay’s lap and snuggle some more.

“TOM!” Chakotay snapped and tears filled Tom’s eyes as his master’s anger made his whole body shiver with distress. He staggered to his feet and seated himself in the pilot’s chair, looking constantly at Chakotay for signs of approval.

Chakotay gave him an encouraging smile.

“I want you to fly us through the grid, Tom. It would make me happy.”

Tom’s smile of pure bliss at being able to do something to please him both relieved and terrified Chakotay. When Keysh had told him that Tom would retain his mental acumen he had thought that Tom’s change would be purely physical. The last few days had proven to him that he was wrong.

There was no point in having a brain if the imperative to please another person meant you had lost the desire to use it.

He lay his huge hands on Tom’s shoulders and leant against the back of the chair so that his chin rested lightly on Tom’s head, hoping that his physical contact would help Tom remember why he was flying. He was terrified that without his constant touch Tom would forget what he was supposed to be doing to please Chakotay and simply crawl back out of the seat and back onto his lap.

“We need to fly through the minefield, Tom. Can you do it? For me?”

“Sure, Chak.” Tom replied dreamily but still his hands took the controls with surprising firmness and Chakotay sighed with relief as he saw the deft way in which Tom’s fingers danced over the console.

Twice Tom had a dangerous loss of concentration.

The first time he simply released the controls, twisted in his seat and started sucking hungrily on Chakotay’s fingers. Chakotay had to shake him furiously to remind him that they were careering into the path of a live mine. 

The second time Tom allowed himself to be distracted, they actually struck the edge of a mine and the resultant explosion decimated their shields and threw Chakotay into a bulkhead.

Tom was so terrified by the blood pouring from a deep gash in Chakotay’s forehead that he jumped from his seat and hid under the console, leaving the small craft careering wildly in the middle of the defence grid.  Chakotay had no option except to drag Tom out of his hole, strike him several times and scream abuse at him until Tom was so terrified he scrambled back in the pilot’s chair.

Tom was crying so hard it was a miracle that he managed to steer them safely through the rest of the mines. His fear of Chakotay’s wrath seemed to clear his head enough to finish the task but by the time they emerged safely on the other side, Tom was whimpering in the pilot’s seat, flinching away from Chakotay in terror, tears pouring down his face.

Chakotay realised that his abuse had pushed Tom completely over the edge of sanity into pure k’tech reaction and he knew that he would never be able to get Tom to pilot again.

Their shields were at 30%, their oxygen tanks were ruptured, they were venting plasma so fast that they were unlikely to make it to a habitable planet and even if they did, Chakotay had no way to land the craft.

They were going to die.

Go to part fourteen