A belated response of sorts to the 500 word challenge. (C/P, b/d - 500 words)

Disclaimer: Paramount owns my car, my home and somewhere on my body is a stamp of ownership. Therefore I claim the right to play with the other toys they own in the universal toy room, just for fun and not for profit. This story is not betaed and should not be archived anywhere. Please do not reproduce or pass on. My first slash to the list, be kind in your criticisms. Feedback is appreciated -- how else will I improve?

Chakotay licked his lips and held position. He wasn't afraid of Tom, his lover, the man who held his heart. This Tom though, was wild, barely controlled and this ritual they followed satisfied them both while renewing their love, Chakotay acknowledged silently.

After their recent brush with the Aeneyoun, Voyager was suffering from a virus infection. It seemed that the Aeneyoun along with delivering phaser shots at anyone who invaded their territory, also used the energy discharges to mask the transport of nanoviruses into random spots of the ship's infrastructure. The viruses sole purpose was to reproduce massively, tunnel into the bulkheads and weaken the structural integrity.

Often a ship might travel for months before the damage was complete and it crumbled to spare parts light years away from The Aeneyoun Dominion. That fate would have befallen Voyager were it not for its obsessive Chief Engineer and its bio-neural technology. When one of the gel packs appeared to be malfunctioning in Jeffries tube 11, junction 56, she never rested until she discovered the reason. The infestation had been contained in small areas. This meant however, that with the exception of essential duties, piloting being one of them, all other crew worked double shifts, where they used specially modified tricorders to inspect each millimeter of Voyager. Chakotay had been responsible for the organizating the "scan and repair" details and he frequently put in 18 hour days while he worked alongside the crew. Calculatedly, knowing what would follow, he ignored the increasingly vocal protests of his lover.

Chakotay tried to move without Tom noticing. He knew that if his lover saw that infraction, his punishment would increase. He was being punished for every hour they spent apart. The slight sound that whistled through the air was his only warning. The connection of wood to flesh laid out another perfect stripe on his buttocks to match the other fourteen that came before. Chakotay vowed as he always did, not to move again. The only sounds that escaped were the stifled grunts when Tom struck him. Soon though, he would plead with Tom -- when the pain wavered then yielded to pleasure while he was being disciplined -- feather light touches playing across his body bent over the pool table that stole his breath, framed by flurries of harsher strokes. The only thing to restore his sanity would be Tom's total, completely thorough possession.

Chakotay succumbed to the dark thrall unaware when his punishment ended. He was reduced to frayed nerve endings and desire. He wanted... needed to be filled. He coveted Tom's long, smooth glide into his heat. His throaty growl was demanding yet pleading. He felt Tom's cool hands on his buttocks soothing him while he was positioned. Tom stayed motionless. This moment was necessary, more meaningful than what went before -- when they acknowledged they were bound together forever, then that slow friction filling him deeply, endlessly. The connection was stunning, raw, powerful. With a mingled wail and shout, they climaxed.

The End

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