IMMORTAL BELOVED

Title: Immortal Beloved, 1/2 
Author: Jaye (Copyright July 2002)
Codes: VOY/Highlander C/Methos NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts
are the  property of Paramount. Highlander belongs to somebody
(Rysher?), but  it's been so long I've forgotten who. No
infringement is intended or  profit made. This is NC-17 for m/m
sex. If you aren't interested (or aren't  old enough), don't
read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please
keep  the text (especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
wordsmith872@fastmail.fm

Summary: Serendipity brings together two hearts ready for love.

Notes: Very AU response originally for a ChakotayFest Summer
Challenge.  Set almost a year after "Endgame". In Chakotay's
POV, Methos's name is  Peter, since that's how they were
introduced.

***************

PART ONE

Ironically enough the eyes caught Methos's attention first, not
the  tattoo. He'd been standing by his terminal scrolling
through his messages,  absently noting meetings and policy
memos, when a pair of intense dark  eyes leapt out at him from
the screen.

They were the deep brown of soil rich with life. There was an
ageless  quality about them as well, a serenity that the
Immortal recalled his  dark-eyed Highlander had never managed to
attain.

At that stray thought Methos's hand automatically moved toward
the  Delete button, determined to erase anything that reawakened
the echoes of  his grief, however slightly. Three centuries had
passed since Duncan  MacLeod of the clan MacLeod had lost his
head and his life in a freak  accident. For good or ill no
Immortal was close enough to absorb his  lifeforce. MacLeod's
great spirit and all of the power he had gathered were  released
back to nature. It was just as well, for anyone who claimed the 
Highlander's essence would have become unstoppable. But Methos 
treasured the memories of his Scottish love, as he did the
handful of other  people he had cared for in his long life.

His mourning had lasted a hundred years before he'd bothered to
seek  out even casual companionship again. Never another
Immortal though.  Humans, mostly, usually as different from
MacLeod as he could get. Not that  it was hard to avoid his
colleagues-in-eternity. They were a cautious  lot, these days.

Medical technology had managed to make Immortals a truly
endangered  species. You had to be dead, well and truly dead,
for at least a few  minutes before the Quickening could occur.
Between stasis chambers, cardio  stimulators and cortical
monitors people rarely stayed deceased for that  long.
Transporters also seemed to interfere with the process somehow, 
as if breaking down and reconstituting the body short-circuited
the  Quickening. The end result was a healthy, long-lived
populace and continued  secrecy, but very, very few new
Immortals. Those that were left ignored  The Game. Even the
Watchers had practically abandoned their field  observations.
Now they were mainly interested in poring over the past.

Hazel eyes flicked to the image one last time as a long pale
finger  moved to complete its mission. Which was scrubbed the
instant Methos's  brain registered the unusual facial tattoo.
Succumbing to grudging  curiosity, Methos sat and folded his
arms. He gave the screen his full  attention.

The image accompanied an invitation to a private lecture by
former  Starfleet Commander Chakotay of Dorvan V. He was
apparently a member of  that headline-grabbing ship, Voyager,
returned from the mysterious Delta  Quadrant.

Methos recalled the Voyager frenzy that had gripped the media
and the  Federation for a solid month. At first he'd been
casually interested in  the gallant little vessel and its crew,
but the information overkill  and news saturation had pretty
much soured him on the story. He did  recall that Chakotay was
one of the more publicity-shy members of the senior  staff. Like
Tuvok of Vulcan, he'd posed for a few group pictures, made  a
brief statement of appreciation for his crew's efforts, resigned
from  Starfleet and disappeared from the public eye. A few weeks
of refusing  interviews soon convinced the fickle paparazzi to
ignore him in favor  of more forthcoming Voyager officers,
turning them into media darlings.

Now it seemed the elusive ex-rebel had re-emerged, at least in a
small  way. Chakotay was presenting the first volume of his
anthropological  surveys of Delta Quadrant cultures, and also
making the raw data  available to the academic community. Methos
was surprised the event was so  low-key. Chakotay's credentials
were above reproach, and the cachet of  having a member of
Voyager's crew at l'Université de Paris for the  unveiling was a
publicity department's dream come true.

But from the announcement, it appeared that the lecture and a
small  reception were a gathering of professors, researchers,
and students.  Reporters were definitely *not* invited. In his
guise as an authority on  antiquities, Methos of course was on
the guest list.

His eyes returned to the photo. It didn't look as though
Chakotay had  changed much from the publicity stills that had
splashed every media  outlet upon Voyager's spectacular return.
He was a handsome, black-haired  man in his early forties, whose
dark-honey skin set off the curious  indigo tattoo. The marking
stirred vague memories of ancient empires, but  Methos couldn't
quite place it.

He snorted. This was going to bug him. He hated not knowing the
little  details. His eyes narrowed. Methos could spend a couple
weeks paging  through his journals or do some hunting in the
university database. Or he  could go to the lecture and ask the
man himself. With one last glance  at the dark gaze Methos sent
his acceptance of the invitation.

************************************************************
************************************************************

Chakotay stared at his reflection and took a deep breath,
resisting the  urge to adjust his clothes or fiddle with his
hair. He'd managed the  lecture itself with ease. After all, he
had taught hundreds of Starfleet  cadets in his four years at
the Academy. And the question-and-answer  session afterward had
been invigorating, the chance to stretch his  intellectual
muscles that he'd been hoping for.

But now he was getting ready for the reception. He had a feeling
that  the inquiries here would be of a much more personal
nature. He wasn't  sure he was up to the interrogation.

Seven was responsible for a large measure of his uncertainty.
She'd  knocked him for a loop last year, pursuing his company
with Borg  single-mindedness. He'd been flattered, and
originally attracted more by her  mind than her body. He thought
her unique experience of a multitude of  cultures would give
them some common ground. He was also one of the few  people on
Voyager who knew what it was like to be a member of a 
Collective, even if his experience wasn't quite the same as
assimilation.  Chakotay also wanted to find out if he could coax
forth more of the warmth  and humor he suspected lay beneath
Seven's icy exterior.

So they'd cautiously started dating. Chakotay had believed Seven
was as  committed to building a relationship as he was. She was
inexperienced  in many ways, so he had been very careful to take
things slow  physically. By the time their first kiss rolled
around, he'd thought he was on  track to forming a lifelong
connection with the self-contained blonde.

Then Admiral Janeway had come along to rattle Seven's outlook on 
things, including their relationship. When the crisis came
Chakotay had risen  to the occasion, offering Seven a pledge
from the heart. Unfortunately,  it wasn't enough. By the time
they'd reached the Alpha Quadrant Seven  had dumped him. Her
interest stopped as abruptly as it had started. And  while she
had blithely moved on to the Doctor, he'd been left wondering 
whether it was something he'd done or something he was---or 
wasn't---that had changed her feelings.

Though caught in the whirlwind of parties and publicity
surrounding  Voyager's return, Chakotay was simply not in the
mood to celebrate. He  returned a free man, but with few real
connections left outside his  shipboard family. The thought of
staying in Starfleet turned his stomach, so  he'd resigned as
soon as he was able. Seven years of back pay left him 
comfortably set, so he indulged his lifelong love of archaeology
and  anthropology. He'd given himself time to organize his notes
and  observations, and process his experiences aboard Voyager,
including those with  Seven. Eventually he'd tired of his
solitude, thus this impromptu return  to the academic world.

He'd always wanted to see Paris, and figured if he was going to
attempt  the dating scene again the place to do it was the City
of Love.  B'Elanna had been thrilled to hear about the trip. Tom
had made him promise to  take a jaunt to Marseilles to see
Sandrine, since B'Elanna was keeping  her husband pretty close
to home these days. Neither of Chakotay's  friends had said it,
but he was sure they wished him luck in finding a  traveling
companion.

***************

Methos leaned against a paneled wall and sipped his drink. He'd 
actually enjoyed the evening. Chakotay was a master storyteller
and he spun  quite a tale. Learning about new, completely
unfamiliar species had  stimulated the Immortal's imagination,
and the lecturer had stimulated his  senses. Chakotay's voice
was the kind you didn't hear so much as wrapped  around yourself
and snuggled into, and the man's enthusiasm had given  his
rugged features a charm and life that was dazzling to behold.

He wondered if Chakotay would be as compelling up close and
personal.  Methos had quickly worked the room, getting all the
necessary chit-chat  out of the way before the guest of honor
arrived. He'd done a little  research and now had quite a few
questions for the man of the hour.

The second the door opened and Chakotay strode in Methos was
struck  with a tingling awareness. Not just the gut-level pull
of attraction, but  also the warning prickle of a potential
Immortal. He nearly fled,  driven by centuries-old instinct to
avoid such complications in his life. As  his body poised and
his mind argued, Chakotay walked up to him and he  was trapped.
He forcibly relaxed and smiled, putting out a hand. "Mr. 
Chakotay, very nice to meet you."

Chakotay quickly shook the offered hand, resisting the urge to
retain a  hold of the long pale fingers. "Mr. Adamson, yes? I
was hoping you'd be  here. I wanted to thank you." He was glad
the tall man was so close to  the door. When he'd stepped up to
the podium earlier this evening he'd  caught sight of hazel eyes
and a bold nose dominating an unusual but  attractive face. He'd
also had an impression of a long, loose-limbed  body, before
he'd focused on his lecture. He had asked for a name the  second
he could, and learned of Peter Adamson's notoriously reclusive
ways.  So he hadn't expected, but certainly hoped, to see the
university's  antiquities expert at this little soirée.

"Thank me? Whatever for?" Methos's eyes crinkled in puzzlement.
He was  also a little disappointed to lose the clasp of that
strong tawny hand  and gave himself another mental shake.

"For chuckling at so many of my jokes. I didn't know whether
anyone  would notice I slipped them in. You either have a finely
honed sense of  humor or a very polite nature---I'm not sure I
want to know which was  responsible." Chakotay grinned, but his
memory was filled with the taller  man's smile. It absolutely
transformed his face, and Chakotay wasn't  likely to forget the
sight any time soon.

Methos found himself wanting very much to see the flash of those 
beguiling dimples again. He leaned in to share a secret. "Let me
reassure  you. Even if some of the university chairs frown at
the 'irreverent touch  of frivolity', the students were very
appreciative." He couldn't help  his own smile. "As was I."

Chakotay nodded in gratitude and felt his own lips quirk again
in  automatic response to the curl of that wide mouth. He
vaguely wondered what  it tasted like before jolting himself
back to business. "Well, I have a  lot of people to meet and
greet." He held out his hand again. "Thank  you for being such
an attentive audience, Mr. Adamson, and for your  time."

Methos retained his grip and opened his mouth to ask about the
tattoo.  He was a little surprised at what actually came out.
"Have you seen  much of the city, Mr. Chakotay?"

A pleased warmth mixed with Chakotay's startlement. "It's just 
Chakotay, and no, I've only seen the university grounds. Lovely,
but hardly the  essence of Paris."

Methos made the offer. After all, he figured, there was no one
better  equipped to be a local guide. "Peter, please. If you're
not leaving  right away, would you like a whirlwind tour?"

Oh, very much so, was Chakotay's immediate thought. "Thank you.
If you  can spare the time I'd really appreciate the company."

The sense of rightness eased the knot of anxiety in Methos's
gut. He  was even getting used to the zing of mingled attraction
and pre-Immortal  spark. "I know which hotel the university
always uses to house their  guests. How about I pick you up
there at five."

"A.M.? Is anything open then?" Chakotay didn't really care about
the  early hour but didn't want to be so obvious about his
eagerness to meet  again.

"A few cafés. The best way to start your affair with Paris is to
see  her wake up in the morning." At Chakotay's nod Methos
smiled and made his  way out of the hall, steps lightened by
anticipation.

Chakotay sighed in appreciation at the view, then shook his head
at his  own wayward thoughts. He hadn't been involved with a man
since before  he joined the Maquis. Then again, he'd never met
such an instantly  compelling one as Peter Adamson. There was
something about him; Chakotay  sensed he was an old soul. He
shrugged, then turned to begin the long  evening of smiling and
hand-shaking as he waded into the sea of academics.

************************************************************
************************************************************

Chakotay hesitantly followed Peter through a weathered wooden
door  practically hidden behind a curtain of ivy in an old stone
wall. "Are you  sure this isn't private property?" he asked,
gazing at the small  enclosed park.

"Trust me, I've been here plenty of times." Methos briskly
walked  across the grass, heading for a tall, loose-limbed tree
near a pond. He  turned to beckon, "Come on." He chuckled at the
uncertain expression on his  companion's face. His heart felt
brighter than it had in decades.

Chakotay stirred him in so many ways. He responded to Paris with
a  refreshingly unspoiled sense of wonder grounded in a thorough
knowledge of  the city's millennia-long history. He reawakened
Methos's own love of  the place he'd called home for so long.
They'd visited the Eiffel Tower  and Notre-Dame, of course, but
Chakotay had also been interested in  more out-of-the way places
the usual tourist never sees. And Methos had  heartily agreed
when his companion nixed a trip to the Louvre, saying he  would
rather wait until he had the time to fully absorb its treasures.

Their conversation over the course of the day had ranged across
a dozen  topics. Methos confirmed the two were well matched
intellectually, and  their differences in background and
perspective sparked lively,  good-natured debates.

Methos had also found himself physically drawn to the other man.
Before  the morning was out they'd started sharing each other's
space. He'd  been standing and walking close enough to Chakotay
to catch his clean,  earthy scent and to confirm that his skin
was indeed as smooth as it  looked from farther away. Much to
his own chagrin, Methos had also caught  himself several times
unconsciously lagging behind to watch Chakotay's  simply
stunning derriere in motion.

They'd lunched at a small family-run bistro Methos often
frequented,  and the French-speaking owners had complimented him
on landing such a  fine-looking beau. Methos could still feel
the flush on his cheeks from  when Chakotay's equally
embarrassed explanation that they were colleagues  revealed that
he understood their comments and held a fair grasp of la  belle
langue.

Still, Chakotay hadn't seemed shocked or annoyed. He'd given
Methos a  look from under his lashes that hinted he just might
be favorably  disposed toward the idea. Methos was going to
throw caution to the four winds  and take a chance, but he
needed some privacy. Thus this illicit little  trip onto the
grounds of a manor he knew was unoccupied due to ongoing 
renovations.

Chakotay watched his companion's easy, graceful stride as they
headed  toward the water. He hadn't felt so close to another
person in a long  time. Certainly he and Seven had never shared
such a quick, profound  rapport.

He sighed. He'd been caught off guard by the restaurateurs'
assumption  of a relationship between Peter and himself. But he
would very much  like one. The man's mix of sly wit, deceptive
cynicism, and simple joie de  vivre made Chakotay feel more
alive than he had in a long time.

Chakotay also couldn't remember ever being so turned on just
looking at  another person. Peter's thick mop of dark hair
invited his fingers to  card through the glossy locks. He wanted
to see the flush of arousal and  fulfillment heat the cool pale
skin as he learned the contours of that  long wiry body. The
heady, giddy whirl of desire in his mind and heart  made him
reckless. He was determined to discover the texture and flavor 
of those wryly curving lips.

His thoughts stopped with his body as he blinked. Peter had just 
disappeared. Or rather, he'd slipped behind the foliage of the
tree they'd  been walking toward. Long thin branches filled with
leaves arced to the  ground, creating a living screen. Chakotay
cautiously parted the twigs  and stepped through, letting them
swing behind him.

A fair bit of ground was hidden, along with the tree's slim
trunk. The  light here was a muted green, and the air seemed
hushed and still.  Peter's tall figure was casually draped on a
wrought-iron bench that had  probably been placed there when the
tree was a mere sapling. He was  grinning as he spread his
hands. "You like?"

Chakotay didn't care whether Peter was referring to himself or
the  locale, the answer was the same. "Very much."

"Have a seat." Methos shifted and patted the spot beside him. He
was  pleased that Chakotay took him literally, sitting close
enough for their  thighs to brush.

Chakotay closed his eyes and tilted his head back, deeply
inhaling the  scent of nature. "When I got back to the Alpha
Quadrant, it took me a  while to get used to the smell of real
air again. As well as the idea  that I couldn't just shut off
the rain with a command."

Methos turned slightly and leaned one arm against the back of
the  bench. "Too many hours in the rarified atmosphere of ships
and holodecks?"

"Too many years." Chakotay grinned ruefully and opened his eyes
to meet  a soft gray-green gaze. "My cousin lent me his vacation
house---a cabin  in the Appalachian Mountains. I've been staying
there, getting used to  real gravity again, the change in
seasons." He shook his head. "I'd  forgotten just how cold it
needed to be for it to snow."

Methos chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot to pack your long
johns."

"And my parka. Mostly because I hadn't needed one for such a
long  time."

They sat in silence a moment, each man acutely aware of the
other. They  both turned and spoke in the same instant.

"Chakotay---"

"Peter---"

They laughed, then Methos gestured for Chakotay to go first.

"I was just wondering if you'd like to accompany me on a trip to 
Marseilles. I promised a friend of mine that I would drop by a
bar there and  give the proprietress his respects."

"A bar in Marseilles? Yes, I'll come with you, if only because
nobody  should be walking some of those streets alone. There are
still some  pretty rough customers in that town." Methos's heart
skipped at the light  that entered the dark eyes.

"Thank you." Chakotay felt a bubble of happiness in his chest.
He  smiled and said, "Your turn now."

"I've been meaning to ask you all day about your tattoo." Methos 
wrestled down the urge to trace the whorls and lines, but it was
a struggle.

"It's a symbol created by some very distant ancestors of mine.
They  were predecessors of the Mayans, a tribe called the Rubber
Tree People.  And as I discovered in the Delta Quadrant, the
mark also belonged to a  group of aliens they called the Sky
Spirits."

"Yes, I remember now." The symbol was ancient even when Methos
first  walked the Earth.

"You remember? Just who do you think you are, Father Time?"
Chakotay's  teasing was leavened by the fond smile he gave his
companion.

"Very funny." Methos leaned a little closer; his face and voice 
softened. "Actually, there was one other thing I wanted to ask
you."

"What's that?" Chakotay whispered.

"If I may kiss you." Methos leaned in, but waited.

"Please do," Chakotay said as he tilted his head and closed his
eyes.  He sighed in contentment as he felt the brush of lips
against his own.  He lifted a hand and gave in to temptation,
sliding into the dark  strands of Peter's hair to cup his head.
He turned more fully into the  embrace, his other hand stroking
along a slender shoulder.

Methos felt the warm lips beneath his part and groaned as their
tongues  began a subtle dance. The arm along the back of the
bench naturally  slid around the wide shoulders, while the other
skimmed down Chakotay's  side to find the hem of his shirt and
slide beneath it to reach soft  skin.

They continued to touch and taste each other, pressing their
bodies  closer as arms and legs entangled. Chakotay lifted his
knee to teasingly  trace the seam of Peter's jeans. When he
reached the apex, he applied  light pressure to the erection
outlined in denim.

Methos lifted his hips a little, increasing the sweet torture
against  his sex. He slid off Chakotay's full lips and licked
along the firm jaw  to the flesh under one ear. He closed his
teeth around the succulent  morsel, sucking it strongly.

"Oh..." The sound devolved into a low moan. Chakotay's fingers 
tightened involuntarily as the mouth on his neck bestowed an
ever-so-slightly  painful pleasure. His hands dropped to the
slender waist, gathering  material to push the sweater up,
baring a smooth pale torso. He bent to  suckle a pale pink
nipple, feeling the body in his hands arch toward him.  His
approving growl traveled with his mouth across the delicate skin
to  the other pebbled bit of flesh. He laved the nub with his
tongue, then  blew, watching the peak stiffen further.

Methos groaned, tantalized by the shift from warmth to coolness.
He  pushed away a moment and tore off his top, then reached to
remove  Chakotay's. Both men were breathing heavily.

The second their chests were bare Methos and Chakotay renewed
their  embrace. Methos slid them gently down to the grass on
their sides as they  kissed once more, hands running along backs
and chests, bronze skin  sliding against ivory.

Chakotay's hips thrust against more slender counterparts as he
nibbled  a swan-like neck. His hands returned to roll Peter's
nipples and  lightly run his nails down the smooth pale torso.

Methos's hands found their way to Chakotay's trousers. He
quickly undid  them and slid his fingers underneath the
waistbands to cup that rounded  ass. His hands were filled with
the firm globes as his fingertips  danced along the edges of the
cleft. He broke their kiss and nuzzled under  Chakotay's jaw.
"Let me," he whispered into sweet honey-colored skin.

"Anything," Chakotay answered, then with a last sigh slid back.
He  propped his head on one hand as he stroked the other down
Peter's side.  "What did you have in mind?"

The sultry question was matched by the heat in the brown eyes.
Methos's  cock swelled even more. He smiled. "What I have in
mind isn't possible  in this venue. But let's get naked anyway."

Chakotay smiled back. "It's a good start."

They stood as one to toe off their shoes and shuck their
trousers and  underclothes. When they were done they paused a
moment, just looking at  each other.

Chakotay's eyes roamed Peter's body, his lips parting a little
as he  measured the large hands and feet against the equally
impressive cock. He  continued up the long torso and slender
neck to the handsome face. He  smiled and raised his brows. "So
what would you like me to let you do?"

Methos gazed at the sleek form. He wanted to taste every single
inch of  the smooth tawny skin, to learn the muscles beneath
them. He stepped  forward and laid his hands against the
powerful chest, palming the small  dusky nipples. He teased them
to hardness, then brushed his straining  cock against its darker
mate. "For now, this," Methos said as he slid to  his knees and
took Chakotay's penis in his mouth.

Chakotay breathed a startled moan as his flesh was encased in
wet heat.  His hands automatically reached to brace themselves
on broad shoulders.  He felt a talented tongue sweep around the
crown and slide down his  shaft. One long-fingered hand played
with his balls while the other  slipped around to probe
delicately at his anus. Chakotay shuddered under his  lover's
ministrations and ground out, "Peter, it's time."

Methos hummed his assent and pressed closer, his nose buried in
the  soft black hairs of Chakotay's groin. The musky scent was
soon joined by a  sweet, salty flavor as Chakotay groaned and
climaxed. Methos swallowed  it all, savoring the moment. He
released the softening cock and blinked  as Chakotay sank down
to his knees to seize his mouth in a fierce kiss.

Chakotay tasted himself on Peter's tongue, salt mixed with the 
sweetness of the mouth joined with his. His hands slid from
throat to chest to  ribs, then curled around his lover's
gracefully curving erection. He  leaned back a little to look
into dilated hazel eyes, then gently pushed  the long body down
to the grass.

Methos looked up into appreciative dark eyes and relaxed. He
moaned  softly as Chakotay lapped at the hollow of his throat.
The soft lips then  moved down the center of his chest and
sternum, pausing to let teeth  sample the skin of his navel. He
felt a quick kiss to the head of his  cock, then long licks up
and down its length. He thrust and groaned.  Chakotay responded
by running his lips slowly down Methos's shaft. It was a 
torturous, delicious preview until finally his sex was fully
enclosed.  Then he felt strong hands on his hips as Chakotay
began to bob slowly  up and down, his tongue and teeth offering
extra stimulation.

The heat and wetness and suction increased as the pace sped up.
Methos  tried to lift himself higher but implacable hands held
him down. He  felt fingers leave his hips and wander between his
legs to caress his sac,  encouraging his balls to draw up even
tighter. Then a knuckle pressed  the sweet spot just behind them
and Methos shouted in pleasure.

Chakotay felt the slim body beneath him heave and relaxed his
hold,  letting the long shaft slide a little farther into his
throat as its  liquid pulses slid down to warm his belly. He
sucked his way up the shaft,  tasting his lover's seed. A last
lick at the tip and he drew away,  collapsing beside Peter.

Methos turned his head and was shocked that Chakotay's mouth
could look  even more sexy, swollen and rosy and glistening with
a faint sheen. He  grabbed the darker man's dimpled chin and
pulled him forward so he  could lick his way across the lush
curves. Then he leaned back with a  satisfied sigh.

They lay a few moments in silence, staring up at the canopy of
leaves.

"I don't usually do this," Chakotay said.

Methos smiled. "What? Have sex with a virtual stranger? Have sex
with a  man? Have sex outdoors?"

Chakotay glanced over with a sheepish shrug. "All of the above."

Methos shifted so he could see Chakotay's face. His own fell
into lines  of concern. "Are you sorry?"

"No, but I am a little confused," Chakotay answered honestly.
"I've  never been so drawn to someone. I guess I'm trying to
decide if it makes  me a slut if I ask, 'Your place or mine' so
soon. And if I can handle a  one-night-stand, even though I
really do want you."

Methos reached over and traced Chakotay's tattoo. He knew he
shouldn't  be doing this, but he was as helpless as Chakotay to
fight the  attraction between them. "I would say your place to
get your things, my place  to stay the night." He ran his finger
down a high-boned cheek and hoped  the truth of his next words
showed in his eyes. "And you're not a  one-night stand. At least
I very much hope not. But this *is* sudden. So  let's just take
things as they come until we're back from Marseilles."

Chakotay smiled at the softness in the hazel eyes, then grinned
as he  considered his lover's words. "Were those double
entendres deliberate?"

"Of course. I wanted you to keep the main event in mind. You did
say  'Anything'," Methos replied and leaned in for another kiss.

TBC