DANGEROUS MEN

Rated NC-17 for graphic sex; J/C…absolutely no J/Kash
Disclaimer: No money, just good, sweaty fun…
Summary: Chakotay figures out what Kathryn liked about Kashyk.
Thank you for the beta, Shayenne. And thank you, Ky, for all the incredible additions to the steamy bits. Here it was supposed to be your gift and then you end up doing a bunch of work on it…

For Ky, who wanted Alpha Chak smut

He's gone and, even though I knew all along that he would betray us, I thought… no… I hoped that he wouldn't. I'm ashamed of myself for feeling the attraction I did for him. I knew what he was made of. From the beginning of his suppose defection, I knew he was feeding me a line. The logic of the situation was never far from my mind; Tuvok would be proud.

What I can't understand is my disappointment that all I assumed would happen has happened. He betrayed us, I played my cards correctly, the telepaths escaped, Voyager is free. I should be happy that I outsmarted him. But I'm not. I'm here in my quarters, moping for my loss.

Of what?

I didn't feel any true emotion for him. I could see through his remorse. But I wanted him, nonetheless. Something about him was… compelling. I haven't felt so much a woman in a very long time. Kashyk was an attractive man, if nothing else. He also challenged me. I enjoyed our little game. It allowed me to dust off a certain side of myself that's been asleep for a long time. It required me to be alluring… interesting… sexual. Something that I've missed all of these years in the Delta Quadrant.

Kashyk's interest in me, and the subsequent 'dusting off' of my feminine wiles, was so different from anything else I've had over the last few years. That part of me has been dormant, save for a few fleeting examples; Gath of Sikarus, those Mokra soldiers. Perhaps one could include Tom Paris in that category. I know how he used to look at me. I guess a certain Maquis Captain fits in there, too.

Certainly not enough to sustain anyone, despite current evidence to the contrary.

When my door chimes, I'm certain that it is Chakotay. He's avoided me since Kashyk came aboard. No. That's not right. I've avoided him. The idea of Chakotay watching me use myself to draw out the man… It disturbed me. It would have disturbed me more if I'd been of a mind to consider why.

I've half a mind to ignore the chime, but I know that this confrontation will eventually take place. My emotions are still a bit raw, but I'd rather get the unpleasantness out of the way in order to allow the healing to begin.

"Come."

He's wearing black and, for a moment, I wonder if this is accidental or on purpose. His expression is closed and guarded and I can't see us solving the issue tonight.

"Captain."

"Yes, Chakotay. What is it? I'm heading to bed. It's been a long day."

Only his eyes register the deeper meaning of that. He walks farther into my quarters, closer to where I'm standing by the view port. Even though my robe covers me completely, I feel more vulnerable than if I were wearing my Starfleet red and the pips on my collar.

"I want to know something, Kathryn."

Oh God, here it comes.

"Did you give yourself to him?"

"Pardon me?" No preamble, no 'Gee, you really planned for everything, Captain.'

"Did you sleep with him? Did you let him fuck you?"

I've never heard Chakotay use such coarse words. His eyes are flashing with thinly veiled fury and I feel a stab of fear at his tone. Nevertheless, I will not let someone - a subordinate, no less - scrutinize my actions. "I'm trying to decide why you feel it's any of your business."

"It's my business all right." He moves until he is standing directly in front of me.

It's all I can do not to take a step back in intimidation, but I force myself to hold my position and my eye contact. The concentration of the two keeps me from coming up with a quick enough response and he takes my silence for something it isn't.

"Face it, Kathryn. You're attracted to dangerous men."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I deny his accusation - or is it acceptance? - easily and automatically.

Chakotay raises an eyebrow. "I'm not blind, Kathryn. Nor is the crew."

"Your point?" I keep my expression as neutral as possible.

"They all saw you with him."

The way he says 'him' makes me shiver. From what, I choose not to analyze. "It was a game." I argue, "I had to act as if I believed him."

"But you were attracted to him. Sexually attracted. And don't deny it."

I wave my hand at him in disgust and turn around so that I can swallow the thick lump in my throat. "That's ridiculous."

"You're attracted to dangerous men," He repeats as he grabs my shoulder and turns me back around to face him. I can smell his breath and feel the heat coming from his body. "I know, because I was once the angry warrior that attracted you."

I have to tilt my head up to look into his face.

"You enjoyed the game, Kathryn. Admit it."

I shake my shoulder free. "Maybe I did. Maybe I found him attractive." I see the hurt pass briefly across his eyes and I see that I've hit a soft spot. "Can I help it if I enjoy feeling like a woman every four or five years?"

His voice is soft now, and not with tenderness. "I used to be the dangerous man. Maybe I've become too safe for you."

I try a light laugh, attempting to diffuse the tension in the air, but it comes out nervously. "You think I miss those early days when I couldn't be certain that you were trustworthy?"

"Yes. I do." He cocks his head to the side. "The logical part of you mightn't have. The Captain in you certainly didn't. But Kathryn… oh, Kathryn liked it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I saw the way you looked at me."

I shrug, confused, trying to remember all of those years ago when he wasn't my loyal best friend. "I looked at you like someone I wasn't certain was trustworthy. Hardly surprising, given the circumstances."

"You looked at me like you were waiting for me to push you against a wall and fuck you." He counters smoothly.

I'm uncomfortable at the turn this conversation is taking, so I step away toward the replicator and try to divert his attention. "That's ridiculous. Let me get you a drink. My ration points-"

Before I even know what's happening, I feel my body slamming into the chaise. He has me tightly pinned to the chair, both of us straddling the seat. His hands lock mine tightly over my head as his legs tangle with mine.

"What the hell?!"

"I'm still dangerous, Kathryn."

The sudden movement has left us both short of breath. I instinctively try to free my hands, but I know that any attempt to release myself is futile.

"Let me up!" But I can see in his expression, he has no intention of doing so. Fear shoots through me and adrenaline pounds blood in my ears. "Get off me!"

"But that's not really what you want is it, Kathryn?"

I steel my voice. "That's exactly what I want! You are on report for behavior unbecoming an officer, Commander!"

He snorts, amused by my threat. "With what I intend to do to you, I'm prepared to be court-martialed, Captain."

Now I am frightened. I consider my options… Since I'm not wearing my comm badge, my only chance is to hail security through the computer. But I can't imagine him allowing the words to escape my mouth. And I'm not entirely certain I want a security detail barging in on us this way when there may still be a chance to end this privately.

His body is heavy on mine and the tie of my robe is loose, the silk of my gown pulled tight against my thighs. His eyes are full of a mixture of danger and seduction as they wander over my body. I can't move enough to hide myself from his gaze and I ignore the spark that I feel deep in my belly, cursing my body for reacting on such a primal level in this situation.

I try to reason with him. "Chakotay. You don't want to do this." I take a breath to steady my voice again. "You're scaring me."

"You like to be scared, Kathryn. You thrive on the edge."

"Not like this!" I protest. "I have no secret, sick desire to be raped!"

He has the gall to laugh. "Rape? Who said anything about rape? Or is that a suggestion?"

"You're holding me down against my will. What the hell am I supposed to think?!"

"That's just it, my dear. You think too much. Right now, all I want you to do is to feel."

"I'm feeling afraid, Chakotay. This has gone too far."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Shifting, he grasps both of my wrists in a single hand. I attempt to free myself, but he uses his size to hold fast to my hands. His free hand moves to the hem of my gown and pulls it up until it no longer cuts into my thighs. Of course, now, I'm acutely aware that the material barely covers me. Since my thighs are spread widely, I imagine that it's easy for him to see that I'm not wearing anything other than the robe and the gown. Opening the robe completely, my breasts strain against the thin material.

With the back of his hand, he caresses me, watching intently as my nipples harden. I try to free my legs, anything to distract me from the warmth of his hand, but each of his is wrapped firmly against each of mine. All I do is succeed in raising the hem of the gown even further. I can feel the cool air of my cabin against the exposed skin of my sex and know that he must be able to see everything.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to close out the drowning humiliation. But when I do, the sensation of Chakotay's hand on my torso leaves me reeling. Circling each nipple, he touches my breasts softly at first and then begins to lightly pinch his way around until he closes in on the enflamed points of skin. He toys with me until I'm squirming, offering up an involuntary reaction that, no doubt, he can see and smell.

For as much as I don't want this, I know that, in equal parts, I'm all but ready to roll over and play dead; let him have his way with me. After all, isn't this what I've dreamt of for the last five years? The Maquis Warrior staking a claim over me? Taking what I wasn't, technically, free to give? Making the decision for me, while I get to enjoy the benefits?

Nevertheless, I'm determined to get through this without giving him the satisfaction of knowing that I enjoy any of it. I try to focus on the point in time when I'll be free to rip his rank bar off and shove him into the brig to stew for a few months. I concentrate on how his face will look when I tell him his assault has permanently removed my trust. I even toy with the idea of slapping the shit out of him while he stands, humiliated in front of the crew. I try to block out the tingling in my thighs as he studies my flesh. But I find myself opening my eyes to watch him as he paws at me.

His brow is furrowed in concentration as he moves his hand under my gown, cupping first one breast and then the other, pinching, none too gently either. When his eyes dart up to mine, I shroud my own expression a fraction of a second too late.

I know that he can see my own dilated pupils and it's all I can do not to suck in a breath at the look on his face. The expression I've seen so many times in my dreams is now right in front of me, real and solid, and desire pulses through me.

He leers at me and pushes my gown under my chin and exhales at what he sees. "God, Kathryn…"

Those simple words cause of gush of fluid between my legs. I don't want him to know that I'm responding, so I try again to pull my wrists from his hand, but all it does is move my breasts in a wanton jiggle, which he misses none of.

I see him sniffing the air. "I smell you. You want this."

"No. I don't." It sounds weak.

"You're wet for me."

"No."

I don't know what I'm thinking. All it takes it one simple movement of his free hand and he'll know I'm lying, not that his nose hasn't confirmed it already, anyway. As his fingers tickle and twist in my pubic hair, I gasp from the tingling and realize, a fraction too late, that my hips move just a little, stimulating myself on his hand.

With a finger he rubs past my entrance, wide and gaping for him. Sliding against the pooled slick, he groans and closes his eyes. Pulling the finger up to his face, he smells and tastes me. I keep my face stony as he does so, but I'm not quite sure how I manage it.

He parts the hair of my mons and circles my clit with a skilled finger. Oh God, I've never been so ready to be touched in my life! When did this turn from humiliation to stimulation? It's all I can do to keep from bucking my hips into his hand, gyrating to his rhythm. But I won't give him the satisfaction.

I try to go back to imagining myself humiliating him in front of the crew, but I can't get away from the slick heat of his fingers on my pleasure point, slowly building me to my peak. I can't give him the satisfaction. No. I won't let him make me come.

He slips a finger into me as his thumb pets my pearl, easily finding a soft rhythm. And my body welcomes him shamelessly, despite the forced celibacy I've endured. The friction of his hot hand against me almost makes me lose my mind. I have to concentrate to keep from bucking and thrusting and moaning for him. I feel my thigh muscles tensing and releasing instead, and so does he.

Chakotay's eyes dart between my face and my body as it swallows his hand. His breath comes in short pants and it's just that little bit more erotic to see his reaction, coupled with my own. His dark eyes run hotly over me as sweat begins to pimple and bead on my forehead. He watches me intently, watches my tongue dart out to moisten my dry lips and watches the clenching of my thighs which tell him more than my mouth ever could at this point. His eyes are accusing when they catch and hold mine. He knows damn well what this is doing to me and he's waiting for me to try and deny it. I don't - My eyes roll back into my head and I draw a shaky breath.

I'm close. God, I'm close. Shit, I'm almost there. And then he stops! My eyes fly open and I'm watching Chakotay unfasten the black pants and release himself from his fly. My arms now hang limply, not moving from where he placed them, even though he's released his hold on my wrists. I'm too distracted to think of escape and I watch as more of his golden skin is revealed.

He's dark and dusky, purple and veined and hard and as he pulls the foreskin back, exposing the swollen head, I look back to his face and see his lust. He's going to do it. He's going to force himself on me. I'm nearly undone with the idea. But the only fear I'm feeling now is the fear that he might not go through with it. I wonder when, exactly, my view on the situation changed, but I can't honestly bring myself to care.

"Look at me."

I look at his face. "No, look at me." He gestures to his sex, throbbing in his hand as he pushes the material out of the way, exposing his hips. It's all I can do to try and school my features as I look at the mouth-watering display before me. "Tell me you want this. Tell me want me to take you."

I hesitate. I won't beg for it, as much as I want to feel him inside me, pushing, thrusting, rubbing, I won't ask for it. My mouth opens and closes once, twice, any coherent speech I'm capable off being stalled by the erotic images I paint in my mind. "No."

"Then I'll have to take you." Angling his hips forward, he nudges against me, trying to push in, but the angle is wrong. My back is too arched. The head of his cock slips past my entrance, nudging at my clit. Oh, God.

Frustrated, with a low growl he releases one of my legs from his, lifting the knee enough to tilt me, and slides in completely, overwhelming my long-ignored tissues and I can't stop the groan that accompanies his movement.

With my knee in the air, I'm free to push away, kick at him, fight back, but I don't. I can't. Instead, I push my hips farther into his, thrusting back every so subtly, asking for more.

That unleashes the fury in him.

Grabbing my other knee, he pushes both up in the air, allowing his feet to find the ground and give him the leverage to pound into me with force. Both of us are moaning, our bodies rippling together in mutual pleasure.

I remember my hands as they go to his shoulders, pulling him down against my chest, pushing my knees to my armpits.

Now I am coming. Hard and long and squeezing him with my hands, my thighs, my inner muscles until I'm spent from the experience and still he's thrusting into me, prolonging my pleasure with a painfully wonderful rush of sensation.

He stops and shifts his weight on his feet, lifting my body further up the back of the recliner until he can pound into me with greater force, the gravity of my own body giving him resistance. My head falls back over the top of the chair and he bites at the skin of my neck and breasts and licks where he's wounded me.

I've recovered and know that much more of this and I'll be coming again, even harder. But Chakotay stops. Completely and suddenly. And he gets up.

"What?" Of all the things I thought he'd do, this isn't one of them.

He pulls me off the recliner and onto my feet in a single heave, leaving my gown to drop, covering my sweaty and flushed body. He leans against the seat, pushing his pants down until they're half way down his thighs, leaving me standing in my robe and wrinkled gown.

"This isn't rape." He's inviting me to end it all or finish him off. My fluids are shiny on his staff and the black hair at the base of it is wet with my juices.

I shake my head with the incongruity that is Chakotay and think about leaving him here, pants around his thighs, cock weeping and ready for me. The memory would keep me warm on lonely nights in the future. The memory of what else we could do would sustain me for a lot longer, though, and I only think about abandoning him for a moment.

Shrugging out of my robe and then lifting my gown over my head, I kneel to the floor and take him in my mouth, the salty sweat of us both rolling across my tongue. I push my head onto him once, twice, until his hand cups the back of my head and he groans in encouragement.

I shake him off and then stand over him, relishing the power he's given me. Lifting his legs onto the footrest, he reclines, offering himself for me. Throwing a leg over, I mount him in a single movement, my own slick guiding him into me smoothly.

I'm too short for my feet to reach the ground, so I pull them up, bracing on the seat of the armless recliner on either side of his hips. Raising and lowering myself onto him, I grind against him as his hands find my waist. His grip is fierce and tender all at the same time. The contrast of his movements have me reeling and I know I'm going to come again as I feel him pulsing and throbbing inside of me.

I feel powerful above him, moving my body over his, our slick skin rubbing against each other. I feel as though I'm in control, but at the same time, he is controlling me. He pulls at me until he's bucking and moaning and showering my insides with his own fluids as I clench around him.

I watch his face as he comes. My angry warrior takes me as I take him.

I lean into him, still savoring the feel of him inside of me, and we kiss for the first time. It's sensuous and tender, not desperate and hungry as I've always imagined our first kiss would be.

He cradles my head against his chest and strokes my hair, humming softly as he does.

"You know I should court-martial you."

He turns my head to look at him. "Why? I gave you the choice. You could have walked away."

"These are my quarters! I could hardly leave a man in your condition lounging in my living room. I'm not cruel."

"You made me wait years, and I finally have to hold you down to get you to respond to me. That's pretty cruel, Kathryn."

"No. The cruel part comes when I tie you down and take hours to pleasure you."

"So that means there will be a next time?"

"Maybe we could work the next time into the court-martial some way…"

"That sounds interesting... Is this a recurring fantasy of yours, Captain?"

"Could be…"

"I'd be willing to sacrifice a little dignity for your pleasure."

I keep my features serious, despite the twinkle I know is in my eye. "I'd be careful about making any promises of that nature. You don't know the extent of my fantasies…"

End.

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