The Irish Sex Fairy by Mandy
Summary: The Irish Sex Fairy found its way into my inbox. It promises bad things if the email is not forwarded. Not wanting to risk bad things happening to my sex life, and also not wanting to fill up my friends' inboxes with spam, I passed it onto Voyager instead and this is the result. There are lots of different pairings, not all of them involving Tom, but at least one is C/P, hence I'm putting them in this category. All are individual stories and do not need to be read in any particular order unless otherwise stated.
Categories: Chakotay/Paris Fanfiction Characters: None
Genres: Humor
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 10 Completed: No Word count: 18170 Read: 40181 Published: 20/05/08 Updated: 15/11/10

1. A Matter for Negotiation by Mandy

2. Keeping Up Appearances by Mandy

3. A Lesson in Skin Care by Mandy

4. Another Lesson in Skin Care by Mandy

5. Epidemic! by Mandy

6. A Sporting Solution by Mandy

7. Crazy for You by Mandy

8. 8. The Best Cure by Mandy

9. Bless You by Mandy

10. Be Safe With Me by Mandy

A Matter for Negotiation by Mandy
The Irish Sex Fairy says:
1. Sex is a beauty treatment. Scientific tests find that when women make love, they produce amounts of the hormone estrogen, which makes hair shine and skin smooth.


"A Matter for Negotiation"

“I don’t get it. She always looks good. No matter how many Kazon ships try to blow us up, no matter how many double shifts she puts in, she still looks great, while we look like something left out in the sun for a week.” Mariah Henley pushed back an errant lock of lank, dull hair and stared enviously at the chief engineer as she leaned over the pool table.

“Speak for yourself!” protested Sue Nicoletti. The two women were sharing a small table near the fireplace in Sandrine’s. “Although I’m not convinced the sonics do such a fantastic job on a person’s hair.” She patted the regulation-style bun she retained even though she’d been off-duty for several hours. It was easier to hide the frizzies that way.

“Do you think they use extra water, being senior staff? I mean, think about it. Torres and Janeway always look…you know, well, gorgeous. You’ve got to admit Torres’s hair is much nicer than your average Klingon’s.”

“There’s your answer to that; she’s not your average Klingon. It's probably why some days her skin has that real translucent appearance. Something in the genes.”

“Janeway must be part Klingon then too. Her skin can look pretty translucent to me.” Mariah sighed and pushed her hair behind her ear again.

Sue snorted and shook her head. “It’s got to be the water. Think about it. The Delaneys have complained about their hair virtually non-stopsince we got stuck out here. Wildman’s is so dry the ends are breaking off. Jurot has taken to screwing hers up into such a tight bun it’s a wonder her eyes haven’t shifted to the side of her head. As for Brookes, she looks like she stuck her head in the core; it’s fifty times frizzier than mine. Actually, if you think about it, it seems to be the women who have a problem, probably because we’ve all got long hair.”

“What about Neelix?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe he’s meant to look like that. Besides, isn’t he supposed to have regular bubblebaths or something that Tuvok organized for him?”

“Maybe we should ask Lieutenant Tuvok for bubblebaths as well. On compassionate grounds!”

“Couldn’t you just see that?” Both giggled over their drinks.

“Do you think we could petition Commander Chakotay for extra water rations? Perhaps we could apply for them on medical grounds. ‘Please, Sir, may we have some extra water rations?’” Henley fluttered her eyelashes as she begged in a higher-pitched imitation of herself. “‘And why would you need extra water rations, Crewman Henley?’” she asked in a deeper voice. “‘For purely medical reasons, Sir. To prevent an outbreak of insanity, Sir.’ God knows the Delaneys will drive me insane if they whine the whole way back home,” she said in her own voice and both women laughed again.

“It’s not the water.”

Mariah’s high-pitched gurgle became a choking sound whilst Sue, always having more control over herself, simply stopped laughing immediately. She looked up over her shoulder. “What?” The sharp demand left her lips before she realized who spoke.

“I said, it’s not the water that’s responsible for Captain Janeway and Lieutenant Torres’ shining hair and glowing complexions. I beg your pardon, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” The EMH loomed over the small table. “You would only be making fools of yourselves, not to mention wasting his time if you petitioned Commander Chakotay for increased water rations on medical grounds when water is not the solution for your problem.”

Mariah spluttered and drew breath in preparation for telling the Doctor in no uncertain terms to stay out of their conversation, when she felt Sue place a warning hand on her arm. She closed her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Obviously you must know what is responsible,” challenged Nicoletti, showing some of the reason she was already a lieutenant.

“As a matter of fact -,” The Doctor was interrupted by Sandrine, who came closer and joined in the conversation.

“But, of course! It is something that all Frenchwomen know. Ze beautiful hair, ze perfect skin, ze bright eyes…It is because they ’ave ze regular orgasme, oui?” She turned to the Doctor for confirmation.

“I was simply going to explain that higher amounts of estrogen will improve the appearance and texture of a woman's hair and skin, but you are correct. Experiencing orgasm is a natural way for a female to raise her levels of estrogen. Starfleet regulations actually endorse this method for all female senior staff in preference to artificial estrogen supplementation. First impressions are important and while one should not judge another being on looks alone, it behoves all negotiators to look - and feel - their best.”

As the Doctor's explanation had continued, Mariah's arms had gradually relaxed, her jaw had dropped and her eyes had widened. An amused grin now covered her features. “We can start a book on this – who's responsible for raising the estrogen levels of Janeway and Torres. Maybe we can win enough credits to get some extra water so we can see about raising our own estrogen levels. After all, it's a Starfleet regulation. Let's see, Janeway and Chakotay will most likely be the favourite; two to one odds, wouldn't you think? We'll need to calculate odds for Janeway and Paris, Janeway and Tuvok, Janeway and Kim, long odds there. What about Janeway and Neelix? Do you think anyone would bet on them as a couple?”

“I did not provide you with this information so you could -,” protested the Doctor.

Mariah interrupted, “How about Janeway and the Emergency Medical Hologram? Look, Doctor, it's bad enough we're going to be out here for years, but we are not prepared to spend it alone, getting more and more hag-like, and I can't see you being permitted to administer estrogen treatments to all of the unattached women on a regular basis as a beauty treatment. So, we need the extra credits to replicate more water to get a start on attracting someone to help us increase our estrogen levels naturally.”

A trill of laughter escaped Sandrine's lips. “Zere is always...” and she waggled her fingers. “You do not need ze water for that.”

Mariah pouted. “But it's more fun with someone else.” She looked at the Doctor and narrowed her eyes. “You're a hologram; you wouldn't be fazed by split ends and dry skin.”

The EMH drew himself up. “I'm a doctor, not a beauty treatment.” His nostrils flared and he stalked off.

Sandrine laughed again and took herself back to the bar.

“Would you like to come back to my quarters and get the book started?” offered Sue. She cleared her throat. “I'm... not fazed by dry skin. I have some pretty good moisturiser that might help.” She spoke quickly. “We could perhaps work on our estrogen levels together as well, if you'd like.”

“Sure, okay, I'd like that. I think we've got something here; you've got the 'fleet perspective on the likelihood of various pairings and I can provide the Maquis take – what would the odds be for Paris raising the estrogen levels of both Janeway and Torres?” Mariah giggled again. “And I think we will be able to raise each other's estrogen levels just fine.” She raised her glass that held just enough syhthale for one more mouthful. “Here's to having the shiniest hair on Voyager.”



END
Keeping Up Appearances by Mandy
Chakotay spoke to Lieutenants Tuvok and Paris in his office. “You are aware of Starfleet Regulation 404, subsection three?”

“About the appearance of senior female negotiators, estrogen levels and orgasms? Yes, Sir,” responded Tom.

Tuvok merely nodded.

“When she has not nominated a particular person she is offered a choice.” Chakotay was proud he managed to get that sentence out in a neutral tone. “Negotiations begin in two hours. Are you ready?”


She answered the door, wrapped in a dressing gown.

“We're here for your estrogen elevation.”

“I'm sorry, gentlemen. I've already chosen.”

B'Elanna appeared at her shoulder and smiled.

END
A Lesson in Skin Care by Mandy
The Irish Sex Fairy says: 2. Gentle relaxed lovemaking reduces your chances of suffering dermatitis, skin rashes and blemishes. The sweat produced cleanses the pores and makes your skin glow.


Disclaimer: this is the Irish Sex Fairy's advice – not medical advice. Take it for what it's worth. If you suffer from dermatitis, you should probably follow the recommendations of your medical or natural health care practitioner rather than the Irish Sex Fairy. Actually, given that this recommendation has no nasty side effects if practised in a safe manner and is almost certainly nicer than taking medication, it probably wouldn't hurt to try if your dermatitis is stress induced.


"A Lesson in Skin Care"


Chakotay scratched at his knee. He frowned over the crew evaluations that still remained to be done and picked up the next PADD. Ensign Megan Delaney. A sigh that emanated practically from the soles of his boots echoed around his office. He knew it was way past the end of his shift, but as usual things that needed to be dealt with more urgently than crew evaluations had cropped up at a speed to rival the spread of scuttlebutt and he'd fallen behind again.

A query to the computer informed him there was less than ten minutes until Sandrine’s opened. With the support of Neelix in his capacity as Morale Officer and Tuvok as Head of Security, he’d put a proposal to the captain. Rather than take the holodecks completely offline for an extended period of time while resources were limited, they would divert a small amount of energy so that the crew could still have some off-duty outlet. For ninety minutes, three times every twenty-four hours one of the public holoprograms would run. Fortunately, even that scant hour and a half seemed to be enough as there had been no outbreaks of any kind that resulted in the filling of Sickbay or the brig to deplete the work teams. Even with Tom away he didn’t want to miss out on any downtime of his own. Thankfully, he dropped Ensign Delaney’s PADD back onto his desk and closed up his office.



Chakotay picked up a drink from the bar and scanned the room. His gaze lit on the table usually staked out by the Maquis who worked the alpha shift. Ayala and Dalby must have been waiting at the doors to already be settled with drinks and engrossed in an earnest discussion that had Dalby vigorously jabbing the air with an extended index finger. Tabor joined them. Chakotay decided to head over that way too.

“Doubles, Chakotay? Tabor?” offered Ayala. Remarkably, the pool table was still free.

The four men soon attracted a group of onlookers and if a few rations happened to be wagered on the outcome, it was only to be expected. Chakotay and Tabor were victorious and returned to the table to enjoy the drinks provided by the losers.

A noisy crowd entered the room. B’Elanna and several of her engineering team descended on the bar. Snippets of their conversation reached Chakotay’s ears. They were postulating the chances of Joe Carey's success at trading for the vital ores they needed. It wouldn't hurt to join them, even if the discussion was work-related. He thanked Ayala & Dalby for the game and the drink one more time as he pushed back his chair.

“Commander Chakotay, a word with you, if I may?”

“Doctor. Is something wrong?” Chakotay turned to the EMH who had come up behind him.

“You tell me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I couldn’t help noticing your wrists while you were playing pool.”

Chakotay reflexively tugged down his sleeves. “Ah…”

“You have a rash. Why haven’t you come to Sickbay?”

“It’s nothing. Probably just a touch of dermatitis. It hasn’t even been there a week. It’ll be fine.” Chakotay scratched at his wrist and flushed as he quickly clasped his hands behind his back. “Everyone is busy with the repairs, and it's not as though it's killing me.”

“It will interfere with your peace of mind and therefore your efficiency. There is no need for you to suffer when there are several effective treatments available already in Sickbay, so you see, there is no need to expend precious energy replicating something. We will however need to determine the etiology. Dermatitis may be caused by many things: allergens, irritants, genetic predisposition, stress -,” the Doctor broke off as he became aware that Chakotay’s expression had frozen and hurriedly changed tack. “I’ll expect you in Sickbay -.”

The comm. system crackled and Lieutenant Rollin’s voice interrupted to announce the shuttle Cochrane was hailing them. A relieved smile spread over Chakotay’s face as he acknowledged the message. “Excuse me, Doctor. We’ll discuss this later. Much later,” he muttered under his breath as he left Sandrine’s and made his way to the shuttlebay. Eight days was a fair time for an away mission, but the lack of alerts indicated everyone was most likely back in one piece. He hoped the captain, Carey, Neelix and Tom would be able to report the trade negotiations had been successful.

Captain Janeway disembarked first and immediately ordered the team standing by to begin unloading procedures. Neelix went to assist with the processing of the foodstuffs whilst Carey left with B’Elanna, who had left Sandrine’s practically on Chakotay’s heels.

“It all went extremely well.” Kathryn started to fill in the details, but stopped when she realized Chakotay’s attention was elsewhere. “We can debrief in an hour. Or maybe you'd prefer two?”

“Yes,” murmured Chakotay, and absently scratched at his wrist as he stared at the Cochrane. “I mean, thank you. Two hours would be great. If you're sure?” He smiled down at the woman who was his friend as well as his captain.

She patted his arm and left him to wait for Tom who was finishing the post-flight checks.



“Hey, Chakotay!” Tom's brief greeting conveyed a wealth of emotion.

“Tom! You’re back!”

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Walking close enough that their shoulders touched occasionally, they lost no more time heading to their quarters. The sound of Tom's bag falling to the floor and the swoosh of the closing door barely registered with either man as they briefly touched lips and then simply stood with their arms wrapped around one another for a long moment.

Chakotay sighed deeply and hugged Tom to him even more firmly. “Missed you,” he murmured, and then pulled back to stare into the blue eyes that shone brightly back.

“Me too.”

“It went well?”

“Yeah. Do you want the details now?”

“No. In a couple of hours will be fine.”

“A couple of hours? It’s less than an hour until the debriefing.”

“We've got two. Kathryn said so,” explained Chakotay and there was an almost embarrassed twist to his lips. He rubbed his wrist against the synthetic material of Tom's uniform collar, unerringly finding the seam. He flinched when his arm was pulled back and examined.

“Look at this. You've scratched your wrist raw. Have you seen the Doctor?”

Chakotay looked away and refrained from answering until he felt a not so gentle pinch to his butt. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I haven't had time. And anyway, it's not urgent. The repairs...”

“But -.”

“It's nothing. I can live with it. Anyway, the Doctor knows about it. He said it's probably dermatitis.”

“So you did see the Doc. He should have given you something for it.”

“He couldn't. We weren't exactly in Sickbay at the time.”

“Huh. You can just let me look at it properly then. Come on.” Tom dragged Chakotay into their bedroom and picked up his medical tricorder.

“You could always look at it later, you know. Or I could stop by Sickbay after the debreifing if you're so worried. We're wasting the time Kathryn gave us. I'm sure she doesn't want to find out we spent it arguing over a little rash on my wrists.”

“You wouldn't tell her...”

“Of course not, but she's not stupid. Why do you think she gave us an extra hour? It wan't so you could play doctor.”

“It is dermatitis.” Tom frowned over the readings on the display for a moment and then smiled. “It appears to be stress-induced – surprise, surprise. Fortunately for you, I know just the thing.” He put the tricorder aside.

“What?” Chakotay raised his eyebrows when Tom kissed him on his fingertips one at a time and then started to undo the fastenings on Chakotay's uniform.

“Ssh,” admonished Tom gently. “This is what you wanted, isn't it? Well, guess what?” He ran his tongue around Chakotay's closest ear.

Chakotay only shuddered in reply when Tom blew softly onto the wet trail. He shrugged out of his uniform top.

“Did I tell you the Doc has been making me study up on stress? He's concerned about the higher than average stress levels in almost all of the crew. No regular shore leave in familiar places...being so far from family and friends...the strain of the unkonwn...not being able to transfer off Voyager...perpetual problems with delta quadrant races...leola root...being fired upon every other week...it all adds up.” Tom's hands and mouth found familiar, sensitive places to caress in between the low-toned phrases as they removed their clothes. “You're under stress and stress can cause dermatitis. You know that having sex is a great way to reduce stress, but I'll bet you didn't know one of the things that is reputed to help dermatitis is slow, gentle lovemaking.” Together they stripped the covers from the bed, then Chakotay let Tom settle him on his side and spoon up behind him as he kept up his soothing, monotoned explanation. “Of course, I'm sure the Doc didn't mean me to have sex with everyone on board to cure their stress...”

Chakotay snorted and jerked his pelvis back in mock disapproval. Tom's wicked chuckle only added to their growing desire, as did his long stokes up and down Chakotay's chest and sides.

“And anyway, I don't know exactly how many of the crew have developed dermatitits. After all, I've been gone for over a week. It could be practically all of them by now.”

Chakotay hummed with pleasure as Tom stopped talking and nuzzled into his neck and shoulders. He caught Tom's questing fingers and placed them at his groin, then twisted his upper body back in an effort to capture Tom's mouth with his own. “Slow and gentle, Chak, slow and gentle,” came the murmur in his ear before warm lips settled on his own. His eyes closed and he drifted with the rhythm of their unhurried humping until they were no longer in their quarters on Voyager, but on the bed in their holocabin with the afternoon sunlight slanting through the window. If he looked down he would see the hairs on the back of Tom's hand glinting in the light as it stoked and squeezed him.The heat built slowly and it was good; the curl of his toes, the twist in his gut, the increased need for air that forced his mouth from Tom's so that he could draw the shallow, rapid breaths – all that he was capable of just now. And then he felt Tom panting and stiffen against his upper back before groaning out his release, then his hand sped up and Chakotay covered it with his own while they both forgot all about slow and gentle.


“It's going to need more than one treatment,” remarked Tom casually as he took the time to examine Chakotay's wrists while he cleaned them up.

“Oh, I concur. In fact, it will probably take quite a few,” Chakotay agreed solemnly. “You did say 'slow and gentle' after all, and I don't think we got that part exactly right. Another treatment session tonight then?” He gave an exaggerated grimace when Tom punched his arm, and they changed into clean uniforms for the debriefing.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ten days later, the repairs were complete and Voyager was again flying homeward at a healthy speed of warp six. The Resort stayed open for twenty-four hours. Off-duty crew enjoyed some extra downtime, and Neelix organized a sumptuous barbecue to celebrate their fully-functional status.

Chakotay leaned gainst the bar, sipping a brightly colored drink in a glass that sported a cherry, a slice of lime, a pineapple wedge and a paper umbrella. He was content to simply observe the strenuous game of volleyball that Tom had unsuccessfully tried to convince him to join. He didn't notice he had a companion until his free hand was raised and inspected.

“Your dermatitis seems to be almost gone, Commander Chakotay, despite the fact I have yet to see you in Sickbay.”

Chakotay looked down at the offending limb. “Well, yes it has. Tom's medical training is oviously progressing well as he noticed it almost as soon as he got back from that last trading mission. He mentioned how you had been teaching him about stress and its effects on the body, and sure enough, with the success of the mission, my stress levels decreased, and...” He turned his palm over and back, and shrugged. “I didn't see any point bothering you. If you'll excuse me, Doctor, it looks like the game has finished.” Chakotay put his half-finished drink back on the bar and with a nod in the doctor's direction, hurried over to Tom.

The doctor shook his head and muttered to himself, “Harrumph. And he thinks I believe his blemish-free complexion is solely due to lack of stress? The whole crew would be glowing enough get Voyager back to the apha quadrant if that were the case.”

END
Another Lesson in Skin Care by Mandy
The Iris Sex Fairy says: Item 2. Gentle relaxed lovemaking reduces your chances of suffering dermatitis, skin rashes and blemishes. The sweat produced cleanses the pores and makes your skin glow.



The Delaney twins and Sue Nicoletti stretched out on ‘their’ sun-lounges at the Resort and settled in for some people-watching.

“I’ll tell you who’s looking good,” remarked Jenny, “young Gerron.”

“You’re right. He must have finally got some treatment from the Doctor for his acne.”

Sue shook her head. “No. It’s not the EMH who’s responsible. It’s Golwat.”

“Did she recommend a Bolian remedy?”

“No. She’s sleeping with him.” At the twins’ raised eyebrows Sue continued, “They’re in a relationship. Surely you know regular gentle sex is simply great for the skin.” She stroked her own blemish-free face and smiled.

END
Epidemic! by Mandy
Disclaimer: Just a little fanfic. Also, this is the Irish Sex Fairy's advice – not professional weight loss advice. Take it for what it's worth. The calories quoted come from a variety of sources found by googling ‘calories burned during sex’ or something similar, so you can imagine the type of websites that appear, meaning I wouldn’t trust them as truthful or accurate, but as a way to burn up calories it’s more fun than a lot of other alternatives.



Summary: This time it wasn’t aliens that made them do it.




“Sickbay to Captain Janeway.”

“Yes, Doctor?” Janeway refrained from sighing. She supposed it was fortunate the EMH’s page came almost at the end of the rather trying briefing.

“Please activate your Emergency Medical Hologram channel.”

The senior staff turned as one to face the screen. “What is it?”

“I wish to advise that the crew of Voyager is in the grip of an epidemic.”

If the Doctor wanted to create a sensation, he had. A babble of comments broke out from practically everyone in the room. Tuvok naturally contented himself with simply raising his eyebrow.

Janeway rapped firmly on the desk. “Explain,” she ordered when the room became quiet.

“Fortunately, the epidemic is in its early days, but if left unchecked, there is the risk of developing health problems, the nature of which the Terran medical profession has not had to deal with to such a widespread extent for centuries.”

“So it is only affecting the human members of the crew?” Harry and Tom exchanged sardonic glances at the superiority practically dripping from ‘I feel no emotions’ Tuvok’s comment.

“No, all members of the crew are susceptible in varying degrees, but not everyone has started to develop symptoms.”

“Nobody has reported in sick,” said Chakotay. He frowned. The rosters were a constant source of worry, particularly in periods where the ship was at high alert, involved in some sort of altercation or undergoing repairs. Double shifts were all too common and it was difficult with the limited number of people available to make sure all sections were adequately staffed.

“There is nobody in Sickbay at this time,” confirmed the doctor.

“Then what is this epidemic?” demanded Janeway.

“Obesity.”

“Obesity?” Janeway sat up straighter and automatically clenched her buttocks. Her uniforms had been feeling a little tight around the hips, but she wasn't *fat*.

Tuvok was already sitting up straight, but he straightened a little more and his non-expression may have been interpreted as smug by anyone else in the room. The possessor of a typical Vulcan ectomorphic body type, he carried not an ounce of extra fat.

Chakotay risked a quick look downwards. Naturally burly, he knew he had a tendency to put on weight and the duties of the first officer that kept him at his desk did not help matters. He pulled in his abdominal muscles and tried to remember the last time he'd run his boxing program, gone skiing, or even done anything more vigorous than walk the corridors between his quarters and the Bridge or the various departments on Voyager.

“Yes, obesity - the precursor to various cardiovascular problems, lymphatic disorders, endocrine diseases and other physical ailments, not to mention degenerative conditions and in addition, certain psychosocial issues.”

“But surely the food in the Mess hall is not high enough in calories as to cause the crew to gain weight to that extent?” At the captain's question all eyes turned to Neelix.

“Captain Janeway -,” began Neelix volubly.

“Mr Neelix, if I may,” interrupted the EMH. “During the past two weeks I have conducted an extensive analysis of the foods served in the Mess Hall, comparing the quantities and compositions of replicated foods, fresh delta quadrant foods obtained in trade or otherwise, and Voyager's own hydroponically grown vegetables.”

Harry leant over to Tom. “Perhaps it's the leola root,” he murmured.

“Yeah, please let the doctor say it's fattening and must be removed from Voyager's menu immediately.” Tom snickered behind his hand, but wisely refrained from getting his hopes up.

“I have to report Mr Neelix does an outstanding job with what is available at his disposal, but diet alone is not responsible for the expanding measurements of more than half of the crew. In fact, leola root is one of the healthiest items on the menu. It contains many essential nutrients and acts as a 'fat-buster' when combined with animal proteins. It stays on the menu. No, the biggest contributing factor is lack of exercise, in particular cardiovascular work. The only department that raises its collective heart rate on a regular basis is Security.”

Tom dug Harry in the ribs as they caught sight of Tuvok's chin rising fractionally. Never let it be said Vulcans did not experience pride.

“The math is simple. Calories in must equal calories used in order to maintain a stable weight. Starfleet General Medical Order twenty-seven, subsection twelve authorizes me to deal with pending epidemics in any way I see fit. I therefore propose to institute a new exercise regime, allowing sufficient calories to be burned in off-duty hours, in a way that most of the crew will find enjoyable and actually want to participate in.

“You see, the problem is twofold: the number of crew and the places available for exercising. Firstly, the number of crew. We have a finite number, and unless we take on more people such as Mr Neelix and Kes, deaths will see the numbers dwindle. Already there are barely forty-five people per shift, numbers that I'm sure contribute to Commander Chakotay's stress levels when making up the rosters. Also, it will be almost two decades before the first of any children born on board will be ready to take their place among the crew, with the pregnancies themselves creating their own considerations regarding maternal and child care. From a purely numbers point of view it behoves all of the crew to keep as healthy as possible. Obesity is therefore unacceptable.” The Doctor held up his hand. The outbreak of loud mutterings, even Captain Janeway's, quieted. “You may ask questions when I have finished.”

He continued, “That brings me to my second point; the places available for formal exercise are limited. The gymnasium is small. For half of every shift it is utilized by the security teams. That obviously cannot change. I considered making exercise part of everybody's holodeck time, however, with only two hours per week allocated to each person, and the necessity not dictating what type of holodeck programs must be used for recreational purposes, this was not a feasible plan. Running up and down the corridors is impractical, not to say potentially dangerous and disruptive. The cargo holds are regularly in use and unsuitable to be converted to house exercise equipment.” The EMH had an answer to every suggestion that didn’t have a chance to be voiced.

“What is this ‘compulsory’ exercise program?” Janeway finally got a word in edgewise.

“Sexual intercourse.”

No pins dropped to be heard. The Doctor managed to get several words in before the outbreak of voices. He coughed loudly, refusing to continue until he had the floor once more. “All members of the crew will be required to participate in sexual congress for three periods per week, each session to last a minimum of forty-five minutes. Crew will be paired on a rotating roster of four weeks per partnership. I have undertaken the allocation of the first six months of pairings based on physiology, that is, combinations most likely to burn calories and psychosexual profile. Along with the names of your first six partners, instructions detailing ways to burn extra calories have been forwarded to all terminals. I suggest you study them before your first sessions.”

“But – I'm the *captain *. I can't...”

“Obesity is no respecter of rank. I, however, am. Remember, your psychological profile as been taken into account, and even with a crew of this size I have been able to accommodate you with senior staff and heads of departments.” The EMH puffed up with pride. “Everyone's needs have been taken into account.”

“How have you accommodated those with cultural or religious taboos regarding sexual intercourse?” As the ship's de facto counsellor, Chakotay had quite a bit to do with several of the crew who had trouble coping with the absence of the familiar trappings of their various heritages.

“There are only nine people thus affected. They have been rostered the equivalent amount of time in the gymnasium, and where appropriate, I have provided them with information to assist with making masturbation more efficient.” After a pause long enough for a living being to draw a breath, the Doctor reiterated his orders and then concluded, “You will comply. I shouldn't need to remind anybody of the consequences for failing to obey a General Medical Order of this nature.”

~ ~ ~

Later that evening, Harry burst into Tom’s quarters. He waved a PADD in Tom’s direction. “Did you read all of this? Who have you got? I haven’t got you, but I am so fucked. I’ve got Captain Janeway. What will I do?”

Tom had been expecting Harry for the past hour. He collected the drinks he’d pre-programmed into the replicator and made Harry sit down. “Here. Start with this.” He waited until Harry had downed half his drink. “So who have you got?”

Harry read the names off the PADD. “In order: Delaney, ah, it's Jenny, Golwat, Ballard, Brooks, Henley and Captain Janeway.”

“The Doctor knows you better than you realise. You’ve always preferred Jenny to Megan and you get on well with Ballard. And Brooks plays the piano, doesn’t she? You’ll be fine?”

“But Golwat? And Janeway? I’m so fucked.”

“I think that’s the whole idea,” sniggered Tom.

“You’re no help.”

“But the Doctor’s treatise on sex is very helpful. Look, you just need to memorize the things that burn up the most calories and go for those. Doggie style burns up more calories than the missionary position. Bouncing uses an extra seven calories, and sliding around nine calories.” Tom scrolled further down Harry’s PADD. “Add in some tickling, nibbling and sucking and you can still enjoy a dessert that's worth...seventy-nine calories. Hmm, maybe you need to convince at least one of them to give an industrial-sized dildo a go. That's worth five times as many calories as a regular one.”

Harry threw a dirty look in Tom's direction, but couldn't stop a wry smile breaking out. “Who is the one burning up the calories then?” He looked down and pinched a small handful of fat at his lower belly. “Do you think I'm fat?” He stood and peered around at his backside as best he could. He pulled at his hips. “How big do love handles have to be before they're classed as 'fat'? The Doc is crazy.”

“Maybe, but as far as I'm concerned, it's a good crazy. C'mon, Harry, we have to have sex at least three times a week. What's there not to like?”

“When you put it like that.... But I've got Janeway.” Harry flung himself back onto the sofa and stared unseeing at the ceiling. “I've got to fuck Janeway. God, that even sounds...”

“You're going to have sexual congress with your captain under Starfleet regulations,” intoned Tom.

Harry groaned. “That doesn't make it sound much better. Take my mind off it. Tell me who you've got.”

“Tuvok, Ayala, Janeway, Chakotay, Torres and Tabor.”

“You've got the captain too?”

“We are the senior staff. The Doc said that's who she'd be with. I'm guessing her list will be along the lines of Chakotay, Tuvok, me, probably Torres, possibly Rollins or one of the other heads of department, then you.”

“Janeway and Torres?” asked Harry, his mind distracted for a moment.

“Sure. Why not?”

“No reason, I guess. I'd just never thought about it before. Anyway, your list? You're...happy with it?”

“Hey, Dalby isn't on it! It's a good list.”

“So, who are you going to use the industrial-sized dildo on?” Harry laughed and then looked consideringly at Tom. “Chakotay carries the most extra weight of your group.” He paused and without waiting for Tom to answer, he continued, “Hey, I've just realized something. Tuvok and Ayala are both Security – no extra fat there. Torres and Tabor are nice and slim. Even the captain and the commander aren't that fat. But I've got Golwat; she's solid. Lindsey could lose a few pounds to get her back down to Starfleet regs. Henley's got hips. And thighs. Brooks is cute – and cuddly. And as for Jenny, or Megan, it doesn't matter which twin;” Harry cupped the air in front of him, “those portions of their anatomy are contributing God knows how much to the Doctor's epidemic on their own.”

“The Doc obviously thinks you've got what it takes to help all these lovely ladies lose weight. I'm sure you'll be fine.”

~ ~ ~

In Sickbay the atmosphere wasn't so jocular.

Billy Telfer was practically in tears. “But I might catch - .”

“I can assure you nobody on Voyager is suffering from any type of sexually transmitted disease.”

“But - .”

“Your first exercise partner had a full physical examination two days ago. She's fine.”

“Allergies! I might have an allergy to another person's bodily fluids. I could develop anaphylactic shock and die. Reactions to semen happen, you know.”

The EMH produced a creditable imitation of Tuvok with a neatly raised eyebrow. “In that case, Tal Celes would have more to worry about than you. Bajoran females do not produce semen.”

Telfer flushed and looked down. “Well, what about female fluids? People are allergic to them too,” he muttered.

“Relax, Mr Telfer. I have personally screened all of your partners in anticipation of your reaction. They are all perfectly compatible with you. You are more likely to develop health problems from the consequences of obesity. You are currently fifteen percent above your ideal body weight. I suggest you make a start on your weight loss regime as soon as possible. Your other option to participating is a transfer to Security and be put on a low-calorie diet. Leola root will provide all of your nutritional requirements - without the calories of your preferred foods. I have already assisted Mr Neelix with the formulation of a suitable food plan, should anyone require it. Shall I contact him now?”

“I'll suppose I'll go and talk to Celes.”

“See that you do more than just talk to her.”

~ ~ ~

Tom contemplated the message from Tuvok one more time. He'd expected it yesterday. He'd actually expected a complete timetable for the whole four weeks, but there was only the request to present himself to Tuvok's quarters that evening. He checked the time and headed for the bathroom. He tried to work himself into a logical frame of mind, because thanks to the Doctor's invocation of Starfleet General Medical Order twenty-seven, subsection twelve, he was feeling a little unsettled. It wasn't a date; it wasn't a casual, anonymous encounter; it wasn't quite like anything he'd previously experienced. No doubt everyone would get used to the new routine.

Tuvok answered the door dressed in a long robe. Shades of chalk, grey slate and inky blue in vertical stripes made him appear slimmer and taller than the black and gold of his uniform. He indicated the seat by the window. “I thought it best we set some parameters in advance.”

Tom nodded cautiously. “What did you have in mind?”

“Based on the Starfleet Body Mass Index guidelines for twenty-nine year old human males, you need to lose seven pounds. I, on the other hand, fall in the lower end of the acceptable range for Vulcan males of my age. According to the Doctor, a suitable weight loss rate is one pound per week, taking into consideration regular dietary choices and exercise habits. I have therefore taken the liberty of calculating the number of calories you need to burn over the coming four week period to achieve a four pound weight loss.”

“Err...”

“I have researched a number of activities and positions to determine the ones that will make the most efficient use of our time. If you have any dislikes, now would be a good time to mention them so I can make some substitutions. This would also be a good time to mention if you suffer from premature ejaculation, as the opportunity to burn up calories is markedly decreased with the commensurate reduction in time involved in the act.” Tuvok frowned as Tom tried to control the snort of laughter that escaped from behind the fist he'd shoved to his mouth.

When he felt he could speak coherently, Tom took a deep breath and exclaimed, “Tu-vok!” He paused, suddenly not sure what he wanted to say. He tilted his head and stared thoughtfully into the Vulcan's eyes. “No, I don't suffer from premature ejaculation, or...ah...erectile dysfunction, or anything else that affects my...umm...performance time. Since I'm the one that has to lose weight, I'm assuming you'll be expecting me to take the positions that burn the most calories. I have no objection to that, but what about you?”

“I 'pitch' and 'catch' with equal competency. I also have no impediment that would impact on my efficiency.”

“Then I hope you factored the calorie-burning potential of foreplay into your calculations,” said Tom and promptly leaned forward to kiss Tuvok on the lips. He started with a flurry of brief, closed-mouthed pecks and segued into something slower, pressing into Tuvok’s warm, dry lips. He ran his tongue along the join and then clutched Tuvok’s shoulders a little harder when he felt a flicker of response. After a moment, he stopped and instead, kissed his way along the steady jaw until his lips reached Tuvok’s ear. “C’mon,” he breathed. “Deep, passionate kisses can double my metabolic rate.” He drew back a little, and struck with an inspiration, suddenly swiped his tongue along the elegant curve to the pointed tip. He smiled as Tuvok growled some sort of Vulcan imprecation, neatly flipped Tom over and began kissing him with every bit of energy and skill that Tom could have desired.

~ ~ ~

“This kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?” B’Elanna waved her fork over the plate of banana pancakes Chakotay had produced for dessert.

“Maybe, but I thought it wouldn’t matter this once.”

“Probably not. Remember when we had the pancakes stuffed with those purple berries? What were they called again?”

Chakotay frowned. “Can’t remember, but I know it took a week for the purple stains to fade.” He laughed as he pictured B’Elanna as she'd looked back then, with the purple juice running down her chin, dripping onto the shirt she’d worn, contrasting with the pale color and drawing attention to her breasts. His gaze flickered to her front and he watched her nipples harden. He did manage to look back up at her face as with great deliberation she slid another forkful of pancake between her lips and slowly drew it back out again, the clean tines shining faintly in the room's light. He stared at her mouth as she chewed, swallowed, licked her lips. Her fork clattered unheeded onto the table. Chairs were shoved unceremoniously out of the way and they were in each others arms.

“Beats fitness drills any day,” murmured B'Elanna, and bit Chakotay right where his neck joined his shoulder. “I think that was worth twenty-eight calories!”

“For you or for me?”

She shrugged and nipped him again. He laughed and retaliated with a pinch and a smack to her bottom, and then pulled her close and kissed her hungrily. He fumbled with the buttons at her throat.

“With your teeth,” she ordered. “I actually read the Doctor's instructions, even if you didn't.”

“We've got four weeks. No need to do everything to the maximum all the time.”

“Teeth!” she repeated firmly and pushed his hands away.

“Yes, ma'am. Teeth it is.” The last was muffled as Chakotay tackled the small buttons with vigour, strong white teeth and an agile tongue. He earned himself a sharp slap when he spat out a particularly recalcitrant one he'd resorted to biting off. He grinned and herded B'Elanna away from the table and over to the sofa, where he managed to strip off the remainder of her outfit in a short space of time. Hands, hers and his, removed his clothes and they once more closed the gap between themselves; wanting, needing skin on skin. Familiar hotspots were quickly relearned. Groans intermingled with moans and guttural directions formed a syncopated counterpoint to the soft music that continued playing in the background. He cupped one breast as he laved the other, did all the things he thought he remembered she liked and when her promises and threats turned to begging, he manoeuvred her over the arm of the sofa and entered her from behind. His last coherent thought was at least they were burning more calories like than in the missionary position.

~ ~ ~

Harry read through the EMH's physiological studies and recommendations one more time, in case there was anything he could add to his list. He'd spent several hours studying all the available data, and being the good ops officer that he was, he'd drawn some logical conclusions and worked out a plan of action. They were supposed to spend forty-five minutes in 'sexual congress', which was not just intercourse, but included foreplay and post-coital activities as necessary. (Thank goodness, he thought. Things might chafe if it was three quarters of an hour straight of actual fucking.) He didn't feel right getting straight down to it the moment she opened the door, so he'd factored in some time to talk first. Fifteen minutes of discussion would round things out to an hour for their initial encounter. He'd invited Jenny to his quarters as she shared with her sister and while he supposed voyeurism burned up some calories, he wasn't quite ready to be that helpful to Megan. He checked his list of preparations again: clean sheets and the bed actually made, clean bathroom, drinks handy if needed, hand lotion, lubricants, extra cushions, hand towels and the rest. He reviewed the program again as well. Talking – fifteen minutes, kissing – ten minutes, undressing – five minutes, foreplay including stroking, licking and more kissing – fifteen minutes, actual intercourse – ten minutes, post coital bliss – five minutes. Damn! He'd forgotten getting dressed afterwards. If he reallocated one minute from each of the above, that should take care of it. He breathed a sigh of relief, and added ten calories for talking about sex to his total. Even without any advanced positions or techniques, he should burn four hundred and forty-six calories in the hour.

His door chimed and he took one last hurried glance at his PADD before calling out ‘enter’. His eyes widened in astonishment. Lycra, legwarmers and running shoes filled his gaze. “Jenny…?”

“Harry! Here, I’ve brought some music with me. You might want to slip into something more comfortable first before we start.”

Harry looked down at his jeans. “Huh?”

“We have to warm up first. Don’t want any injuries now, do we?”

“But I thought -.”

“Yes, yes, I’m here for the Doctor’s sexercises. Stretching out is an important part of injury prevention in any sport, as you know, so I thought we could use the first part of my aerobics warm up, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure, ah, I guess. Um, I’ll just put on a pair of shorts, or something.”

“Fine. I’ll just clear a space here. Fifteen minutes should be adequate.”

“Right. You do that.” Harry scuttled into his bedroom and rummaged frantically for a pair of running shorts. He jumped when the music suddenly blared out. It had a fast, rhythmic beat and he found himself nodding his head in time as he changed.

“Just follow me, Harry,” Jenny called out when he joined her. “And one, and two, and three, and turn. Let’s bend, and stretch, and three, and four. Now left, and two, and three, and four!” and she stretched and twisted without stopping until the music came to a sudden stop and computer announced fifteen minutes had elapsed. “Okay, now we can go into your bedroom.” She slid the straps down of her leotard as she spoke, and wiggled her way out of her clothes as she made her way across the room.

‘She’s worse than Tuvok,’ thought Harry as he bent over, trying to catch his breath and relieve a stitch. He hobbled into the bedroom behind Jenny, almost barging into her when she stopped suddenly. He started to straighten up just as she turned to face him and found himself with a faceful of naked breasts. He stammered something as she exuberantly flung her arms around him and helped him up.

“Come on, Harry!”

He found himself efficiently stripped and arranged on his back in the center of the bed, with Jenny settling herself astride his chest. Her deft hands fondled him for a few moments and then he was engulfed by her warm wet mouth. He cried out when the pressures from her mouth and tongue disappeared. “C’mon, Harry!” she urged once more and got back to business. He got the message and got busy with his fingers until she hummed with pleasure. Too soon for Harry, she pulled up and disengaged with an exaggerated ‘pop’, but she wasted no time swinging her body around and lowering herself onto his cock. “C’mon, Harry,” she panted. “C’mon, Jenny,” he somewhat breathlessly mocked in return, and they grinned at each other until Harry’s face contorted and he came with a shout and she followed moments later.

Sixty minutes after she’d enter his quarters, she stood dressed and ready to leave. “See you back here in two days, Harry.”

“Sure, Jenny.” He waved her out and began to return his furniture to its accustomed places. Straightening up the last chair he caught sight of the PADD containing all of his meticulous calculations. He read the first few lines, shook his head and deleted the lot.

~ ~ ~

Kathryn Janeway made sure the privacy lock was firmly encoded before looking around the holodeck. It was a suite of rooms at a generic resort. She headed straight for the balcony and stood, taking in the blue sky, the white clouds and the calm turquoise sea, until a polite cough interrupted warned her that her partner for the month had joined her.

He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently kneading the taut muscles. For once he said nothing. He simply waited, moving his hands from her shoulders to her neck and back again, seeking out each tight spot and working it out.

“Why you? Why not Commander Chakotay first? Wouldn’t he have been the logical choice?”

“I believed it would be easier for you this way. Less personal, if you like. After a month, you’ll be used to it. Also, you aren’t exempt from Starfleet General Medical Order twenty-seven, subsection twelve. This way I can ensure you get off to a good start.” He almost patted her hips, but a little-used algorithm activated a subroutine regarding tact, and he refrained.

“But you’re a doctor, not a weight-loss program.”

“I’m glad you noticed! Now, shall we get started? My programming has been suitably upgraded.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Mr Paris and Ms Torres were most helpful.” The EMH’s uniform fuzzed out of existence and he stood unconcernedly naked before the captain. “Feel free to give me directions. Any short speech, such as ‘just a little more’ or ‘oh, yes, right there’, will burn as many as twenty-five calories. Sex related noises such as short gasps – three calories per gasp, squeals – they’re worth four, ecstatic moans – eleven each, and violent begging for twenty-two calories, are well worth incorporating, as are trembling, shaking and shuddering. If you also find it within you to control yourself for a while as you approach orgasm, you will burn a massive seventy-nine calories as opposed to a mere five-and-a-half if you simply let go. Naturally, multiple orgasms will use up more calories. Research shows some women are capable of eight orgasms in a single hour. If you wish….” The EMH’s tact algorithm fired again. He squeezed the captain’s shoulders. “Come on back inside, Captain.”

~ ~ ~

Four weeks later:

The Doctor blessed Starfleet General Medical Order twenty-seven, subsection twelve and his foresight at including himself as the crew taking part. He already had enough information for half a dozen papers on his favourite topic.

* * *

Tom surveyed his body in the mirror. He turned this way and that. He definitely did not have to suck his stomach in quite so much. “What do you think, Tuvok?”

“You have lost three point seven pound. While you did not achieve your goal, the result is acceptable. I will however recommend to Mr Ayala that he is much stricter than I have been about not allowing you to swallow, or at least make you do something that will burn off the extra fourteen calories per time.”

* * *

Harry folded up his aerobics gear and stowed it away. He somehow couldn’t see Golwat wanting to work out to music before having sex. He wondered what type of kink was normal for a Bolian with a cartilaginous tongue, and promised himself five minutes with a Bolian anatomy text to see whether there was anything else he should know. His thighs and legs could cope with anything now, he thought.

* * *

Billy Telfer spent only ten minutes in Sickbay this time. The Doctor reassured him Betazoids were equally compatible with humans and that Mia Jurot had passed her physical with flying colors less than two hours ago.

* * *

B’Elanna replicated herself a large plate of banana pancakes. The head of Security would have plenty of stamina and she needed to be ready.

* * *

In separate cabins Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay contemplated the coming month. He couldn’t stop smiling. He would finally get what he wanted, one way or another. She smiled too; she now had the perfect excuse that made it all right for the captain to have sex – Starfleet made them do it, and best of all, her uniform was a whole size smaller.

END
A Sporting Solution by Mandy
Two drabbles for this section

Title: A Sporting Solution
Code: P/K
Summary: The EMH agrees with the Irish Sex Fairy's advice.



“Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”

“I thought you’d stopped saying that ages ago, Doc.”

“I thought you and Mr Kim had given up trying to master that Kinbori racquet game ages ago, Mr Paris.” The EMH sighed as he surveyed Paris’ split lip and bloodied knuckles of the hand held out for his attentions. Ensign Kim’s nose was undoubtedly broken and the protective manner in which he clutched his ribcage boded poorly.

“You should find a safer sport to play together. How about tennis? or why don’t you two just stick to sexual intercourse? It’s much safer.”

END



Title: A Better Way to Sweat
Codes: J/7
Summary: Whatever made Janeway think she could best Seven of Nine at sport?



Thwang!

“Game!” called Seven as Kathryn Janeway tried to decide whether the noise meant a shoulder tendon had torn or it was just regular Parises Squares sound effect. She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes and resisted the urge to hunch forward to relieve the stitch in her side. Panting, she eyed Seven. Damnit, not even a sheen of perspiration. That settled it. If she was going to raise a sweat with the former drone, she’d rather it were in a bed than here.

“Do you wish to stop playing?”

“I have a better idea. Come with me.”

END
Crazy for You by Mandy
He was a fine figure, even if he was the only figure of his type on board. Neelix surveyed his reflection and nodded. The carefully programmed and replicated jacket sat well across his shoulders and narrowed at his hips in a way he thought was definitely pleasing to the eye. The color suited him and he had hopes that someone else would think that way too.

Dinner in the Mess had gone well. The usual mutterings over the color, taste and composition of the evening's offerings had been minimal, in contrast to some of his more innovative, less well-received recipes, and he'd made sure he'd been available to personally recommend and serve the dish he'd found in the data base to Mariah Henley. She would be joining those of the crew who were off-duty and free for the evening in Sandrine's, and so he would be there too. Tom Paris had been amenable to giving him some lessons in the game of pool in exchange for a home-made pie and an hour of holodeck time, and Neelix had plans to put his new skills to good use.

He had some other new skills he was also anxious to put to good use. He'd screwed up his courage and gone to Commander Chakotay for some advice. The commander had listened sympathetically and suggested some useful reading material. He'd gone back to Tom, who also directed him toward useful reading material, which was considerably less clinical than the commander's recommendations. Finally, he'd sounded out the Doctor, and the EMH had actually let him practice some of the Terran techniques he'd read about in exchange for some detailed information on Talaxian sexual practices. They'd tried out those too. He really shouldn't have been so surprised at how quickly the hologram learned what made him hum. He hummed now as he settled his hair into a style that had been the latest thing in high fashion before he’d left Talax. He swivelled right then left once more, flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his collar and left his quarters with light steps.

Once in Sandrine’s, Neelix claimed one of the small tables and proceeded to chatter volubly with anyone in earshot.

“Neelix, you’re looking particularly dashing tonight.” Tom raised his glass as he stopped by.

“Why, thank-you, Tom.”

“Are you up for a game when the table’s free? Show off what you’ve learned,” he added conspiratorially. “I haven’t told anyone. We could make a killing.”

Neelix’s gaze flickered around the room. His eyes gleamed when he spotted Mariah at the bar. She must have come in while he was talking. “I’d like that.”

Tom nodded, and moved over to sign up for a turn at the pool table. Some twenty minutes later, he waved Neelix over. Wagers continued being laid as Tom broke.

Neelix studied the table. “Maybe…I’m not sure…how about…?” Only he and Tom knew his indecision was faked. “I think…that one there into that pocket,” and he pointed out his choice. His lip curled at Tom’s surreptitious nod and they were the only two not surprised when the six ball rolled smoothly into the side pocket. Tom won, to everyone’s secret relief, but there were only two of Neelix’s balls left on the table.

The round of congratulations warmed Neelix’s heart and he flushed with pleasure. He wasn’t so overwhelmed that he forgot his purpose in being there and made sure he was in Mariah’s group as people went back to talking. Harry playing Tom was a common enough occurrence and only the die-hard pool fans remained clustered around to watch their game. Discretion and subtlety weren’t traits people often associated with Neelix, but this night he proved himself a master of both. He managed to casually touch Mariah enough times to make him want to hum in public. When she smiled at him and rested her hand on his, he thought his heart would stop. He stammered out an invitation to join him on the dance floor, and disgraced himself when he hummed out aloud at her acceptance. He colored at her quizzical expression and fortunately remembered it was only Talaxians who hummed like that at times like this.

He nearly hummed aloud again when he heard her humming along to the song they danced to. She smiled at him and their hands touched and they stayed there, moving to the beat until he asked her if she needed a drink. He watched her run her tongue around her lips and he beamed brightly when she breathily agreed she did. And suddenly it was easy to ask her back to his quarters where he had a bottle of something he’d traded for not so long ago.

It was blue and smooth, but half empty glasses were quickly placed aside as their lips met. Her fingers tugged at his whiskers, while his released the clip in her hair so her curls tumbled over his hands. When she hummed in his ear, Neelix almost came undone on the spot.

Later, he walked her back to her quarters. He caught the kiss she blew and enclosed it in his palm. His jaunty stride caused more than one person to smile as he hurried back to his quarters.

~ ~ ~

Ensign Sue Brooks hurried to respond to Neelix’s urgent page. She was greeted by a cloud of smoke and Neelix’s lamentations. She worked through lunch, which now consisted of cold left-overs. When the Mess Hall finally emptied, Neelix returned to assisting her with the repairs to his main oven.

“I don’t understand it,” he repeated for the tenth time in as many minutes.

“Not your fault,” she reassured him. She took the isolinear spanner he passed her before she asked for it.

“Here, sit down and I’ll get you some coffee,” he said when they finally finished up.

“That would be lovely,” she sighed and passed a hand over her face.

“Oh dear.” Neelix ran his thumb over the greasy mark that now decorated her cheek. “Oops!” he exclaimed when he realised he’d only made matters worse.

Sue nodded towards Neelix’s hands and then held up her own. “I’d love a coffee but perhaps we should clean up first?”

“Yes, yes we should. Here you go.” He waved in the direction of the tiny room that opened off the kitchen. For use by the head chef to keep track of kitchen business, it contained a handy basin as well as a desk and computer terminal.

Neelix wiped his hands on his apron before getting out mugs. Out of habit he scanned the room. Satisfied nobody was watching, he removed a jar of chocolate and a tin that held home-made cookies from their hiding place. He started the coffee machine, only to have it produce a shower of sparks. He let a Talaxian curse slip from his lips just as Sue rejoined him. He blushed and apologized and was relieved when she laughed. He grabbed the isolinear spanner and held it up, a beseeching expression on his face. “I’ve got chocolate,” he offered by way of a bribe.

“Chocolate? Real chocolate?”

“Fix my machine and I’ll make you a hot chocolate like you’ve never tasted before.”

“You’re on!” She took the spanner from him and went to work.

She had to fetch a heating coil and while she was gone, Neelix hurried into his office and quickly cleaned himself up. Eventually, everything that had broken was working again, and Sue and Neelix both sported clean hands and faces. They sat companionably at a table. He smiled as he watched an expression of bliss cross her face as she as she inhaled the fragrant steam. When she leant back and unpinned her hair, he couldn’t stop the sharp indrawn breath he took at the sight of her red hair tumbling over her shoulders.

“I’m off duty now,” she explained, and took a sip of her chocolate. “Oh, that’s heaven. Mmmm.”

“It is,” agreed Neelix, but his mug remained untouched in front of him as she hummed into her drink.

“Neelix?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just your hair…,” he trailed off. While none of the humans were as beautiful as a Talaxian, they did have qualities he found attractive. His hand reached out to touch it. He could have drawn back, but when she didn’t say or do anything, he fingered a curl that rested on her shoulder.

With her nose and mouth behind the rim of the cup and hiding her complete expression from him, he found her grey eyes held his gaze steady and he took courage from that. He slid his chair closer and stroked her hair. She said nothing, just continued to watch him over the cup until he took her hand in his and lowered it gently to the table. “Sue?”

“Neelix.”

He bent forward and smiled as she leant in to meet him halfway.

They shouldn’t do this here in the Mess Hall, but he didn’t want to stop. He drew back, pushed his chair from the table and stood, holding out his hand. “My office?” She nodded and placed her hand in his. “Don’t leave this,” he cautioned, and picked up his mug of chocolate.

“Not likely,” she responded, and they gathered up the evidence of their presence.

~ ~ ~

“Hey, Neelix, I've got an idea for a new piece of music for the Kimtones. It needs a test audience. I wonder if you'd mind?”

Neelix gladly spent time with Harry and if they happened to do more than share music, that was fine with both of them.

~ ~ ~

“Neelix, Tom leant me one of his holoprograms. I wondered if you’d like to try it out with me?” Gerron had found Neelix sitting alone, watching the stars in one of the observation lounges.

“It’s not Captain Proton?”

“No, he keeps that for himself and Harry. He said it’s a fairground. Carnival rides and things, you know.”

“Well, it sounds as though it would be fun.”

“I have some time reserved now if you’re free.”

“Let’s go then.”

It was Tom’s programming at its best. After wearing themselves out on the Heartstopper, the Anti-Gravitron, the Cyclorama and fast and furious rides as well as scaring themselves silly on a most superior ghost train, they found themselves on the Ferris wheel. The stars competed with the bright lights of the fairground, the pre-programmed nightfall signalling their time would be up in twenty minutes.

Neelix waved his arm, encompassing the scene below. “Wonderful, isn’t it?” He turned when Gerron shifted closer. Gerron’s emotions were easy to read as he examined the hopeful expression in the dark brown eyes, the nasal ridges so different to his own and the soft-looking lips that trembled a little. The little gondola swayed in the breeze as the big wheel paused to allow on some holographic patrons. A romantic soul at heart, Neelix easily succumbed to the atmosphere and kissed Gerron with pleasure until the ride came to an end when their time was up.

As they exited the holodeck, Neelix invited Gerron to his quarters to compare and contrast the anatomy of Talaxians and Bajorans, to which Gerron agreed with alacrity and Neelix spared a moment to bless the Doctor for his tutoring. Neelix fairly hummed with anticipation.

~ ~ ~

He could feel the Vulcan watching him, but every time Neelix turned in Tuvok's direction, Tuvok's head was bent over the reports he'd chosen to read in the Mess Hall. Neelix pondered on Tuvok's presence for a while, but when Chell mentioned sharing some traditional Bolian recipes he forgot the intense, dark eyes soon enough.

~ ~ ~

“Hello, Neelix.” Jenny Delaney, and it was indeed Jenny, greeted Neelix with drawn out syllables and a sultry smile.

“Jenny Delaney, a fine afternoon to you.”

“You knew it was me.”

“I know every member of the crew. You can’t fool me.” Neelix continued the never-ending chore of cleaning the tables in the Mess as he answered.

“I wasn’t trying to,” pouted Jenny. “I wanted you to know it was me.” She leant forward and smoothed her hair.

Neelix stopped wiping for a moment and then furiously cleaned the same place for a moment.

“So, did you have any plans for this evening?” she asked, using the sultry drawl that sent shivers along his spine.

“Ah, I had considered going to the Resort. Why?”

“I wondered if you -,”

“Would go to the Resort with you?” interrupted Neelix hopefully.

“Well, actually, I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me? Megan’s going to the Resort so you could come over to our quarters. We won’t be interrupted. Of course, it would be just a replicated meal, but I thought you could use a break from cooking.”

“Now that’s very thoughtful. Very thoughtful indeed. I’d love to have a meal with you.”

Several hours later, Neelix placed his fork on his now empty plate. Jenny had chosen a spicy dish loaded with a multitude of brightly colored vegetables and had even replicated enough extra spices for Neelix’s serving to satisfy his Talaxian palate. He helped her take the plates away, and then she ordered the computer to play the background music a little louder.

“Dance with me, Neelix.” She held out her hand.

“I, I don’t…”

“Shh. All you have to do is hold me and sway in time to the music.”

So he took her in his arms and they swayed. Jenny buried her face in the side of his neck and inhaled. “Mmm. You smell so good,” she murmured. Her breath tickled his ear as they turned slowly in a circle. One hand left her hip and he stroked her along spine, feeling the gentle play of her muscles. One singer after another crooned words of love into the room. Neelix’s arms tightened around her as she hummed along to the tune. He hummed too, his whole body vibrating with pleasure. “Make love with me, Neelix,” she begged after a while, and tugged him toward the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

“Mmm, you smell so good.” It wasn't the first time Neelix had heard those words, and if the voice confused him momentarily, then he thought he could be forgiven as he shared a bubble bath with Megan Delaney.

~ ~ ~

At the Resort Tom Paris dismissed the Talaxian hologram and took over Neelix's foot massage. He said he needed the practice as the Doctor had him learning physical therapy as part of his training. Tom's hands on his feet were almost enough to start him humming on the spot, so he made no demur when Tom needed to work on more than his feet. From the corner of his eye he saw Tuvok sitting at the table where the chess board was and he wondered even as Tom pulled on his arm that Tuvok sat alone.

~ ~ ~

“I would like it very much if you would spend this day of shore leave in my company.” Ensign Mia Jurot of the science department issued her invitation to Neelix. “There are a number of native markets to visit and the gardens are said to be very beautiful.”

Neelix smiled and accepted Mia’s invitation. Life of Voyager was good. He no longer missed Kes or Talax.

She slipped her hand into his as they strolled down a shady path on the latest planet. “You are happy, Neelix. I feel it. I feel you. Empathic,” she explained.

He nodded. He’d forgotten she was not human. There was little to distinguish her from them. He squeezed her hand. “I think you're happy as well.”

“Yes, I am.” They smiled at one another. “Look!” A pair of brightly colored birds fluttered above their heads and then darted amongst the trees, calling to one other or maybe others of their species. “I think they're happy too.”

“They have a beautiful place in which to be happy,” said Neelix and he thought he might have a touch of empathy himself as he felt an urgency he was sure did not all originate within himself. Together they stepped off the path and into each other's arms.

The urgency built in both of them. Neelix made to pull back, to slow things down, but she laughed softly and whispered in his ear, “There's nobody else here. I would sense them. Come, we will be out of sight behind those trees.” She ran a finger down his nose and across his lips. “Don't be embarrassed. Enjoy the extra thrill.” Her black eyes gleamed with equal measures of mischief and desire. And the normally quiet and unassuming ensign took him into herself and the birds sang as they both hummed.

~ ~ ~

It was late when Neelix put down the PADD Lieutenant Torres had loaned him. He'd borrowed several engineering modules and found a work of fiction amongst them that had obviously been accidently included. It proved more entertaining, particularly after a long day. He decided he would take his thoughts of the activities shared between an Andorian scientist and a human pilot to his room where he could adapt some of them for a Talaxian and a rather intriguing personal aide he purchased on the previous shore leave. The door chime was actually more than a little unwelcome, even though he usually loved company. “Enter,” he called and if his tone was terse, it wouldn’t be obvious to the person on the other side of the door. “Mr Tuvok!” he exclaimed. The security officer was the last person Neelix expected.

“Mr Neelix. I hope I am not calling at an inopportune time.”

“No, no. Come in. May I get you a drink?”

“No. Yes. Tea would be acceptable. Thank you.”

Neelix wondered at Tuvok’s confusion and replicated the Vulcan’s preferred blend. He ordered tea for himself as well and waved Tuvok to a seat.

“What can I do for you?” He peered curiously through the steam. Tuvok seemed…agitated. He listened as Tuvok expressed his opinions as to Neelix’s reliability, discretion, his loyalty to Voyager and her crew and his outstanding abilities as morale officer, all of which was flattering to Neelix, but didn’t provide him with the slightest clue as to Tuvok’s purpose in visiting him.

And finally, with some delicate questioning on Neelix’s part, Tuvok spilled the beans. “The Doctor has informed me that while Talaxians and Vulcans are biologically incompatible, they are able to achieve sexual satisfaction in the manner necessary to assuage the Pon Farr. As we will not be looking to reproduce, the biological constraints are irrelevant.”

“Oh.”

“I have observed you for some time. Humans, Bolians, Bajorans, Betazoids – you have satisfied them all.”

“Well, yes, naturally, but why not ask one of your friends, someone that you’ve known for longer?”

“Know this; I find myself incontrovertibly, surprisingly strongly drawn to you and while I acknowledge the role pheromones play in this attraction, I find it does not trouble me in the least, for all the reasons I have already provided. If you are agreeable, I thought we could get in some practice now, before I am unable to control myself.”

“Practice?” Neelix needed only microseconds to decide that practice was a very good thing. There were some techniques he hadn’t had a chance to try for real. He put his cup down. “My place or yours?” he enquired, and remembering that Vulcans were touch telepaths, he concentrated on the business at hand and decided to think about the truth of the adage the more sex one had, the more one would be offered at a later time.

END
8. The Best Cure by Mandy
Author's Notes:

The Irish Sex Fairy says: Sex actually relieves headaches. A love-making session can release the tension that resticts the blood vessels in the brain.

DISCLAIMER: Take the Irish Sex fairy's advice for what it's worth. If you know that your headaches are caused by stress, then safe sex will have a lot less side-effects than drugs. As always, seek the advice of a registered health care practitioner when applicable and remember this is a work of fanfic.

Summary: Voyager's First Officer gets stress-induced headaches. Tom has a solution.

 

Chakotay frowned over the waste management report. He leaned back in his chair and passed his hand over his face. The lines between his eyes felt deep enough to plant potatoes. They couldn’t recycle everything and Voyager’s power sources were pushed to the limits. The captain’s orders for ‘more power’ every time they had a less than favorable encounter with another Delta quadrant species were getting harder to fill. The pounding in his temples made it difficult to concentrate and his brain refused to supply him with a creative solution to the detritus that now filled the lower cargo bay.

 

His internal debate over whether to go to Sickbay and get something from the Doctor for his headache or simply return to his quarters for an herbal tea of the soothing variety and a nap was easily resolved. His shift ended in less than ten minutes; his destination would be his quarters. The sight of the PADDs spread untidily over his desk only aggravated his headache, so with a sigh he straightened them up. Reluctantly, he picked up the three most urgent, but his head thumped even more. He put them down again. Anything he read now would have little chance of making sense. He pressed his temples in a vain attempt to ease the pounding and wondered why he was still in his office.

 

Being in his quarters decreased some of his tension. The decor had a soothing effect he couldn't replicate in his office. His replicator was programmed with a variety of teas and he selected one based on his mother's favorite remedy; white willow bark, feverfew and peppermint with a few chrysanthemum flowers usually worked well. It certainly eased the low-grade nausea that had developed in the past hour, but his head still ached.

 

He swung his legs up onto the sofa and stretched out. His bed would be more comfortable, the sofa being several inches to short to accommodate his full length, but it was here and he simply didn't was to move. He closed his eyes and settled into the cushions. He didn't sleep; instead he lay quietly and concentrated on relaxing his muscles.

 

Cool fingers at his temples made him jump. It was testament to his weary state that he hadn't noticed the door open.

 

“Hey. Bad head, huh?” Tom pitched his voice low and kept up the gentle massage.

 

“You could tell.”

 

“The frown lines gave it away. Have you taken anything for it?”

 

“I've had a cup of tea. It helped a bit.”

 

“Do you want something from the Doc?”

 

Tom's fingers were now working at his neck muscles, pressing small circles along his hairline. “No, just keep doing that.”

 

Chakotay drifted as Tom kept working. His head still ached but his shoulder felt less tight. “Why'd you stop?” he whined petulantly when Tom took away his hands.

 

“Come on. I know something that will fix your head even better.”

 

Chakotay eyed the outstretched hand being offered and grudgingly took it. He would have been perfectly content to remain where he was. He allowed Tom to tow him to the bedroom where he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed and his boots being removed. “To-om....”

 

“Shh.”

 

It was easier to let Tom keep undressing him, and he silently acknowledged he did feel better lying on the bed. He rolled onto his side and tried not to think. The band of tight muscle around his head still pained, but the throbbing did seem less. He wasn't expecting Tom to join him and he tensed when he felt Tom settle behind him.

 

The massage resumed, now a light stroking that was firm enough not to be ticklish rather than the deeper muscle work of before. Forehead, scalp, neck, shoulder, arm. Then Tom's hand slipped around his chest, briefly palming his nipple. Chakotay's eyes slitted open, but Tom didn't linger, moving up to his collar bone and with a sigh, he closed them again. When they returned to his nipple, this time delicately circling it again and again, he felt Tom's lips at the base of his neck.

 

“Tom,” he murmured, “Not now. I've got a headache.” The message to back off was obvious in the clearly enunciated words.

 

“And I told you I can fix it.”

 

Chakotay harrumphed, but as he wasn't in the mood to argue, he shuffled until he lay in a straight line then held himself rigidly, determined to make a point. He did his best to ignore Tom's hands and mouth as they went unhurriedly about the task he'd set himself. Eventually, Chakotay gave in and rolled onto his back, making it easier for Tom to work on him, but Tom maintained his pace and Chakotay opened his eyes to see Tom's blue gaze fixed on him. He offered a crooked smile in apology. When Tom smiled sympathetically in return, he closed his eyes once more and let himself drift away again.

 

The loving was gentle. Chakotay's orgasm had rolled through him while Tom had lain next to him, his head on Chakotay's chest and one hand curled above him so his fingers could comb through Chakotay's short dark hair, his other dreamily working Chakotay's cock until he read the signals to speed things up.

 

 

 

“Better now?” inquired Tom a little later.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Your headache. Has it gone?”

 

Startled, Chakotay concentrated on his head. To his pleasure, the pain had gone. He rolled his neck and shoulders a couple of times. Even the tension there had mostly dissipated. “Yes. Thanks, Tom. Your...treatment...worked well.”

 

“And much nicer than a hypospray too, wouldn't you agree?”

 

“Yes, but there's no way I'll agree to the Doctor prescribing you for anyone's headache - except mine.”

 

Tom laughed and threw a pillow at Chakotay's head, even though he heartily agreed with him.

END

 

 

 

 

 

Bless You by Mandy
Author's Notes:

 

The Irish Sex Fairy says: A lot of lovemaking can unblock a stuffy nose. Sex is a natural antihistamine. It can help combat asthma and hay fever.

As always, take the Irish Sex Fairy's advice for what it's worth and consult your health professional when appropriate.

B'Elanna gets hayfever. Tom helps her combat it.

 

B’Elanna surveyed the sorry wreck that was Voyager and tears ran down her face. It was bad enough they needed at least three weeks to repair the latest damages sustained in the most recent scrimmage, but having to actually put down on Minarra to do them was the last straw. The Minarrans were friendly enough, but they had no space dock, although that wasn't the issue. They had plenty of natural resources by way of various ores that Voyager needed and the trade agreement which had been struck between the two groups was more than fair. The short, furry natives were also extra useful as Engineering assistants thanks to a split in end of their prehensile tail that allowed it to function as a set of pincers when needed. B'Elanna's problem was with Minarra itself. She had developed an allergy to a flowering plant that grew everywhere on Minarra and was now suffering from an intense dose of hayfever.

 

Unfortunately, the EMH was offline for the foreseeable future, as were the replicators and the local remedy for hayfever had no effect on her half-Klingon physiology. She sneezed half a dozen times and rubbed futilely at her eyes. A hand pressed a clean handkerchief into hers and she spun around to see Tom looking at her sympathetically.

 

“Come on back inside,” he urged.

 

“Can't. There's too much to do out here.”

 

“Neelix has made 'jang jang'. If we're late getting to the Mess there won't be any left. You know Chell always has at least three servings.” Jang jang was a dish native to the southernmost continent of a planet Voyager had visited some months back. Neelix had traded quite a number of recipes, including those for three different Talaxian delicacies as well as Terran pizza, just for details of this single dish. The subtle combination of vegetables and spices cooked in the bite-sized pastry pieces was popular with everyone.

 

B'Elanna hesitated. Tom grinned and held out his hand; he knew the lure of jang jang was too strong to resist.

 

“Well....” She drew the syllable out. “All right. You convinced me. Jang jang it is.” She sneezed again. And again. And again.

 

“...nine. Bless you. Ten. Gesundheit. Eleven. Shahala.”

 

A bunch of curses in several languages colored the air after she finished and Tom stopped counting. “Do you have to keep doing that?”

 

“Sorry,” said Tom, not sounding at all apologetic. “I'll make it up to you. Later.”

 

“Promises, promises,” scoffed B'Elanna, but she squeezed his hand anyway and held it firmly all the way to the Mess.

 

 

 

Later, after yet another of Tom's undershirts had been rent at the seams and a plate which held several jang jang smuggled from the Mess had ended up in pieces on the floor, B'Elanna stopped wrestling with Tom. Her eyes glittered as she stared up into his, then she bared her teeth, growled, and sank her teeth into his shoulder. The thrust of his fingers into her tore a throaty 'yes, yes' from her. She flung her head back and arched up, seeking more.

 

His slickened fingers slid over her breast and along her throat. She refrained from biting them, barely, when he slipped them into her mouth at the same time his cock plunged into her. Soon she felt the familiar curl of heat in her belly and toes and she rose up, pushing her pelvis into Tom's. Balancing a knife-edge of sensation, she anticipated the moment when her orgasm would overwhelm her, but a tickle in her nose distracted her. She scraped her nails along Tom's back, urging him on. As the sensation in her nose grew, it seemed as though the rest of her body stalled out. She barely managed to wrench her head to the side before being overcome by a paroxysm of sneezing.

 

She'd learned to somehow produce a rapid-fire salvo of snot-free sneezes, where there was only a spray of the finest droplets on the 'choo' part. It was less messy, could usually be muffled into the crook of her elbow and gave her time locate a handkerchief for a final blow when she was done. She forced her eyes open between each sneeze, watching Tom flicker above her. Embarrassed and frustrated in equal measure, she reached blindly for a handkerchief from the pile on the bedside table. She paused as she took in the flush that bit by bit covered Tom’s face and chest as he came hard.

 

“Fuck. Oh, god. Bless you, for sure.” The words escaped his lips between each panted breath and B’Elanna hastened to apologize. “No, no.” He pressed his fingers to her lips. “You have no idea.” He moved off and propped himself up on one elbow at her side. He thumbed the tracks her tears had made with his other hand. “That was -.”

 

“Stupid hayfever,” she mumbled, interrupting him, not wanting to hear him laugh at her. “I want the Doctor back on line yesterday.”

 

“No. I mean, yes, I want the Doc back on line too,” he added hurriedly, “but, I...you....” Tom stammered to a halt.

 

B'Elanna glared. “Don't laugh, you,” and she prefaced his name with a few choice Klingon epithets.

 

“I wasn't laughing. It's just, when you sneezed, your muscles, they really squeezed, and well, intense, yeah.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I'm saying it was good when you sneezed.” Tom illustrated his point with a graphic hand gesture.

 

“Oh, goo-od.”

 

“Yeah.” He snuggled down beside her and was asleep within minutes. He didn't even stir when she sneezed again.

 

They woke early enough for Tom to extol the unexpected benefits of hayfever once more, and for B'Elanna to admit it wasn't that bad from her perspective either.

 

The day was practically a repeat of the one before, with the crew taking advantage of the opportunity to complete the repairs as thoroughly as possible. A lot of earlier makeshift repairs were also being properly attended to at last. With her head inside an open console for most of her shift, B'Elanna sneezed and itched her way through the intricate recalibration procedure. It took only a little persuasion on Tom's part to get her to the Mess Hall in the evening, and none at all to get her back to his quarters.

 

Later, Tom lay stretched out on his back, one arm loosely holding B'Elanna to him. His soft snores whistled the tiniest amount and gently ruffled her hair each time he blew out. She sniffed cautiously and was relieved to find her nose felt clearer. For the first time since Voyager landed, she managed an uninterrupted night's sleep and it was she who woke Tom in the morning. He soon had practical experience with one type of sex that wasn't enhanced by sneezing, when B'Elanna did so in the middle of blowing him. She told him he should be thankful she only sneezed three times instead of her usual dozen! He decided to forego further blow jobs until the EMH and the replicators were back on line and B’Elanna could get something done for her hayfever. In the mean time, there were plenty of other ways to enjoy one another, and over the next few days, they did.

 

 

 

When B’Elanna stripped off her uniform that she realized the pile of handkerchiefs that currently accompanied her was decidedly smaller. During the past weeks, she’d had to empty her pockets, sleeves and other places every night, then restock the clean cotton squares ready for the next day straight away. Her eyes no longer itched or watered, and the headache that had been her constant companion seemed to have abated.

 

Tom barely had time to shut the door before B’Elanna jumped him. She had her fingers interlaced behind his neck and his face pulled down to hers before he even greeted her. Tom being Tom just went with the flow and kissed her back enthusiastically.

 

“You’re in a good mood tonight,” said Tom when he finally managed to draw breath and get a word in.

 

“Mmm.” She was too busy nipping at the pulse in his neck to answer properly. She herded him in the direction of the sofa.

 

He managed to shuck his jacket as she tugged impatiently at his pants. She had him naked waist to knees and lying on his back in a matter of minutes. She settled herself on his thighs, wriggling her shoulders when he pushed open her robe and bared her breasts. The material irritated the skin on her arms. With a growl, she tore it off and flung it away. Making sure she caught Tom's gaze, she grinned, making sure he focussed on her mouth, then backed down and sucked his dick into her mouth.

 

“B'Elanna, I thought -.”

 

She raised her head. “I feel fine,” she insisted.

 

“Just -.”

 

She shut him up by the most expedient means possible, swinging her body around and positioning herself above his face. She didn't sneeze once as she used her hands and mouth on him. When she shifted again, turning back to face him, they exchanged easy smiles and wet kisses. Together, with his hands on her hips and hers between her legs, they got her settled and then she rode him.

 

“Wha?” Tom's finger stroking her upper lip and tickling her nose was distracting.

 

“Sneeze”, he murmured helpfully.

 

“Sneeze?” It was hard to concentrate as he thrust up into her.

 

“Want you. To sneeze.”

 

“Huh?” She swivelled her hips.

 

“Sneeze. Feels good,” he explained.

 

He wanted her to sneeze? Suddenly, she made the connection and clenched hard with her internal muscles. When he arched off the sofa, she did it again.

 

 

 

 

 

By the time the EMH was back on line, B'Elanna's hayfever seemed to be under control. It took Tom actually waving a bunch of blossoms diectly under her nose to produce a respectable sneeze. Neither of them mentioned she'd banned Tom from bringing them into either of their cabins. He'd told her the effect of the unexpectedness of a sneeze was quite different to a deliberate clenching of her muscles. She'd snatched the flowers from his hand and thwacked him over the head to his protests of 'not bad different, just different'. She'd let him make things up to her when she found her itchy, watering eyes returned after two days and nights of seperate cabins. It was some weeks after they left the planet before she found a pot of the Minarran flowers growing in Hydroponics.

 

END

 

 

 

 

 

Be Safe With Me by Mandy
Author's Notes:

 Only a brief mention of Tom. This one's Kim/Ayala all the way.

Disclaimer: <i>As always, this is the Irish Sex Fairy's advice and a work of fanfiction only. Do your own research and consult your own doctors and other practitioners in matters regarding your state of health.</i>

 

Summary: Harry's having nightmares after Akritiria. Ayala helps him out.

The Irish Sex Fairy says: (7) Sex is the safest tranquilizer in the world. It is 10 times more effective than Valium.

 

 

His shift over, Harry efficiently completed his handover and hurried into the turbolift, thankfully before Tom left the helm. Since Tom's return to duty, he'd found it increasingly difficult to keep his mind on his duties. Today, the sight of Tom's head had triggered three flashbacks in the past eight hours alone. He needed something to take his mind off his continuing thoughts of Akritiria. He supposed he should make an effort to join the others in whatever public holoprogram was running tonight, but the thought of company had an unsettling effect on his stomach. The EMH had offered him a sedative if he needed it, but Harry wasn't having trouble sleeping; it was the dreams that plagued him and he worried that he wouldn't be able to wake himself from a nightmare when drugged. He rubbed his forehead, trying to erase the frown he could feel.


“Headache?” enquired Ayala sympathetically, who was sharing the turbolift.


“No, well, yes. Maybe a bit of a one.”


“Maybe you need to eat something. All that scanning must have really taxed your brain. Some sugar might do you good.”


Harry laughed. “Yeah. Long range, short range and all the ranges in between and nothing that wasn't naturally occurring or bigger than a shuttlecraft. You're right, I'm suffering from overwork. Food'll do me good.”


“Same here. Tactical was ‘frantically’ busy. I should eat something too. Do you want to meet me in the Mess? We can compare workloads.”


“Sure. In an hour, then?” Harry felt a little of the tension leave his shoulders. He didn't want a crowd, but neither did he want to be alone. Dinner with Ayala sounded just what he needed.



Hours later, Neelix clattered the pans in the kitchen and Harry looked up to realize he and Ayala were the only ones still in the room. They'd talked the evening away, sharing their table some of the time with Torres and Dalby, who had eventually departed for Engineering, then later with Jurot and Henley, who’d gone to find some action at Sandrine’s. There had been an awkward moment when Harry had caught sight of Tom sitting with Chakotay, but the flashback to the prison had lasted only moments. Ayala had looked questioningly at his distractedness but didn’t press the matter and they’d continued with their conversation as though nothing had happened.


The nightmares had plagued him again that night. The next day’s shift seemed never-ending. Tired as he was, Harry rushed away from the bridge and headed for the gym. He figured exercise would do him good and if he worked out hard enough, he’d be too tired to dream. He ran on the treadmill next to Ayala, who complained Tuvok had been on his back about his fitness levels. They sparred together and then spent some time lifting weights. They didn’t talked much, just panted and sweated companionably. The Mess Hall was almost empty when they ended back there for a meal. The talk turned to music and impulsively Harry invited Ayala back to his quarters to hear some of the pieces he’d mentioned.


Drinks in hand, they sprawled out on the sofa. The computer played through Harry’s favourites. Classical, jazz, some experimental fusions, early Bajoran religious choral works and delicate Andorian crystal flute pieces; he had eclectic tastes. Ayala recognized one tune and with a grin sang the version usually heard at a rowdy bar or over a campfire rather than the more traditional words. In deference to their neighbours, he kept his rich baritone modulated. Harry knew those words too and joined him; he could sing in tune, but his voice was nothing to write home about.


“Play something for me. Please.” Ayala looked hopefully at Harry.


“What would you like me to play?”


“Anything. You choose.”


Nothing loath, Harry got his clarinet. He frowned as he fiddled with the reed, then when he was organized, drew a breath and let the notes flow. It only took a few minutes for the pounding on the wall to begin.


“They have no taste,” pronounced Ayala, “but I should go now. Perhaps we can get together again soon. One of the empty cabins would be good. No chance of disturbing anyone.”


“Sure.” Harry walked him to the door. “See you on the Bridge.”


“Not tomorrow. We’ve got a situation drill on the holodeck.”


“Another mutiny?”


“Invasion, with toxic gases, and some surprise Tuvok has cooked up.” Ayala’s face lit up. “Should be a good one.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder.


As usual, Harry had no trouble falling asleep. This time he dreamed of music until the early hour of the morning when Ayala’s invasion took over the peaceful scene and Harry found himself fighting side by side with the former Maquis. As dreams did, it segued into something else; again it was prison and Akritiria, where he relived his nightmare of being unable to save Tom’s life.





“Palpitations, increase in blood pressure, your heart rate is up, headache, stomach pains.” The EMH listed Harry’s symptoms as he ran the scanner over him. “You are suffering from anxiety disorder, brought on by your experiences in Akritiria. A mild tranquilizer should set you right.” He pressed a hypospray to Harry’s neck. “Return in twenty-four hours.”


The nightmares that night were muted, of the type unremembered in the morning, but where one still woke in a lather of sweat, heart pounding and with the sheets twisted around one's body. Dutifully Harry reported to Sickbay in the evening and received another dose of tranquilizer.



A week later, Harry was still making nightly visits to Sickbay. The EMH frowned over the readings. “I was hoping to see some improvement in your condition by now. You may have a maximum of fourteen doses of drugs of this nature before running the risk of addiction, so we will continue with them until the time is up. However, I'm going to recommend you see Commander Chakotay for counselling and instruction in meditation.”


Harry nodded desultorily. He just wanted some uninterrupted, restful sleep. He didn't tell the Doctor he had no intention of going to the commander. Chakotay was spending a lot of his free time with Tom and Harry simply didn't feel comfortable sharing tales from Akritiria when Chakotay was most likely already hearing the details from Tom. As he wandered back to his own quarters, it occurred to him he'd slept better after playing his clarinet for Ayala. He wondered if an impromptu late-night concert would be welcomed.


He asked the computer for Ayala's location, then made his way to the small observation lounge. Ayala was alone. Harry diffidently asked whether he'd mind some company, and at his nod, joined him on the seat facing the window.


In the end, the subject of music never came up. Under Ayala's subtle questioning, Harry confessed his sleeping difficulties and eventually admitted he didn't want to talk to Chakotay.


“You won't tell him, will you?” Anxiously, Harry ran a hand through his hair.


Ayala shook his head. “The Doc would probably tell you to talk to Tuvok if you let him know how you felt. I guess the important thing is you talk to someone, and I've been in your position.”


“With the Cardassians.”


“Mmm. Took me a long time to get over the nightmares. Still have them occasionally.” He looked sideways at Harry. “Company helps.”


Harry slowly nodded. “I did sleep better the night I played for you.”


“You want some company, then? Just to sleep with,” he clarified. “Frankly, Harry, you look like shit, and someone will be sure to say something soon if you don't get some rest.”


“That bad, huh?” Harry gave a weak laugh. He'd seen his reflection and knew Ayala was right. “If you're sure.”


“Come on.”




Harry woke before his alarm sounded. An unfamiliar arm was wrapped around his waist and warm knees were tucked in behind his. Memory of large hands gentling him from at least two bad dreams surfaced. Both times, they'd drawn him from the prison, calmed him and lulled him back to sleep.


“Better?” rumbled a voice in his ear.


Harry squirmed around. “I think... yeah. Thanks.”


“Same time tonight, then.” It wasn't a question.


“Okay.”


He found himself pulled into a brief hug, then Ayala slipped from the bed and into the bathroom. He reappeared shortly, dressed in the sweats he usually wore to work out, and waved before leaving without saying another word.



It was late that evening when the chime sounded in Harry’s quarters.


“Thought you weren’t coming,” muttered Harry.


“I got held up. I should have let you know.”


Harry nodded his acceptance and headed to his bed. Ayala followed and they readied themselves in silence. When they were settled under the covers, Harry ordered the computer to dim the lights. He turned his back on Ayala and tried to clear his mind. He couldn’t help sighing some time after as he rearranged his legs for the umpteenth time. Even the coma position hadn’t proved restful enough for him to fall asleep. He had no idea how much time had passed; it could have been five minutes or fifty, although he suspected it was somewhere between the two. He sighed again, and then found himself being settled back against Ayala. He made a noise, not exactly protesting.


“Ssh. Go to sleep.”


And maybe not so surprisingly, he did, until several hours later he sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, heart pounding and achingly erect as he screamed out ‘no, no!’


“Harry. Harry, it was just a dream,” Ayala rumbled reassuringly. He talked Harry down, waiting until his breathing slowed before touching him and easing him back onto the bed. His hand brushed the front of Harry’s shorts. At Harry’s gasp, he paused briefly and then did it again.


Harry’s eyes were squeezed shut, but he felt Ayala leaning over him. Felt his hand stroke down his cheek. Felt the warm breath in his ear as Ayala asked him to open his eyes and look at him. And when he felt Ayala touch him and ask if he was sure he wanted this, he placed hand over Ayala's and pressed. He couldn't control his body's all-over shiver. “Please,” he whispered, eyes still tightly shut against the burning prickle that usually heralded tears. He lifted his hips as his shorts were eased down. Ayala's hand felt cool and confident. Eventually, the remnants of his nightmare had no course but to give way to the bright hot burst of orgasm.


He must have whited out as the next thing he knew was the touch of a damp cloth on his face and then his belly. Harry stayed silent, content to let Ayala handle everything. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips when his pillow was turned over, so the cool, smooth side touched his face. He didn't really remember falling back to sleep; he just knew that he actually felt rested when he woke to the sound of the alarm.


“You okay?” Ayala was already up and dressed.


“I'm...,” Harry thought for a moment. “Yeah, I am okay.”


“Good. See you later.”



When Tom joined him in the Mess Hall for breakfast, Harry was able to agree with equanimity to an hour of Holodeck time that evening playing Captain Proton. They left the program supporting one another, laughing heartily at the unexpected outcome to the meddling of Satan's Robot. Tom slapped Harry's back and left him to join Chakotay. Harry returned to his quarters and played his clarinet for a while.


It wasn't fair when he'd felt so good to be woken in the small hours of the morning from yet another nightmare. He was curled in a sweaty ball, with Ayala's shirt tangled in his fingers. Slowly, he straightened his legs. He kept hold of the shirt as he pressed in close to the warm body sharing his bed and gradually his breathing evened out. That Ayala would do this for him overwhelmed Harry. He'd been alternately embarrassed and relieved when Ayala had appeared at his quarters that evening. Now he was simply grateful.


Ayala's hands were comforting as they stroked his back. And then they were not exactly comforting any more. Harry's breath hitched. He flattened his hands against Ayala's shirt. The large thigh that shifted until it fitted firmly between his own felt really good. He murmured indistinctly, wanting Ayala to banish the nightmares again. “I need....”


“This?” Ayala's hand slipped down to cup Harry's cock.


“Oh, yeah.”




Harry thought he should reciprocate, but Ayala shifted them into a more comfortable position and he fell asleep before he could do anything about it. He had a vague, passing thought that there was always the morning, but as usual, Ayala rose before Harry was properly awake.


At his evening visit to Sickbay, the EMH was pleased to note Harry's high blood pressure had decreased a little and he'd reported a lessening of the stomach pain, so it was agreed Harry try to get through the night without the tranquilizer.


Ayala arrived early enough to play cards for a while. Friendly competition became rather wild; they slapped the cards down rapidly, chortling at undeserved advantages and protesting at unexpected losses.


Retiring together seemed the most natural thing to do. They lay with Ayala spooned behind Harry for a while until Harry twisted around. He slid a hand between them.


“Is this okay? I’d like to,” he offered diffidently. At Ayala’s murmured acquiescence, he tucked his face into Ayala’s neck and after a deep breath that served to focus his attention, he settled into a rhythm that obviously pleased Ayala as much as it pleased himself. Harry concentrated on the feel of the other man’s flesh as it thickened and lengthened. The words he muttered into Ayala’s throat were just strings of unconnected exhortations, encouraged by the moans that vibrated Ayala’s Adam’s apple against his lips. His respirations increased and then hitched in tandem with Ayala’s when Ayala came.


“Now,” said Ayala, a little later. “No dreams tonight, at least, not bad ones”


“I'll try,” murmured Harry sleepily.





It was a pleasure to wake naturally in the morning. Harry thought being cocooned in someone's arms was the icing on the cake. When the someone was Ayala, the icing was decorated with shaved chocolate and cherries sitting in swirls of cream. He wondered how long the cake would last. For almost a month now, Ayala had slept with him every night. Harry was happy to admit to himself he slept better on the nights they had sex first. He hadn't admitted to the Doctor what he was doing. At his last examination, he'd sidestepped a few pointed questions rather neatly. The Doctor had given him a look, a look Harry was sure had been programmed by B'Elanna, but hadn't pursued his line of questioning. He'd agreed Harry didn't need any further tranquilizers. He'd even stopped suggesting Harry learn to meditate as his readings were now pretty close to normal. He simply suggested Harry keep doing what he was doing and warned him of the dangers of straining something when exercising too vigorously. Harry was quick to agree and he was allowed to leave Sickbay.


“So, did you get good news?” Ayala was in Harry's quarters, waiting to hear what the Doctor said.


“Yeah. I don't need to see him any more. Everything is good.”


“That's great.”


“Isn't it?” Harry frowned. “I wish it wasn't.”


“Don't you want to be okay again?”


“I don't want you to go.”


Ayala laughed. “I'm not going anywhere. Unless you want me to,” he added.


“Oh, no! I want you to stay.”


And he did.


END

 

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