Disclaimer: Janeway and Chakotay belong to Paramount. Their sex lives in this story belong to me.
Rated NC-17
J/C, and set anytime in Season Two before Resolutions. Thanks to my Wonder-Betas, Brianna and Mary S.. Happy Christmas, everyone! Yeah, I know it's October, but this lets me off the hook in December. :)
The invitation, when it came, was unexpected and couched in the subtle language known to 'Fleeters everywhere.
"I'm spending my shore leave on the eastern continent," Janeway said, meeting his eyes for a moment longer than necessary.
"It's very quiet there," Chakotay replied in neutral tones. "Not too much in the way of entertainment."
"The ambassador has given me the use of a cabin—more of a luxury house really. I plan on relaxing... completely." She activated a PADD and input something. "Here, you should have the coordinates." Turning away from him to stare out of the viewport, she added, "And if you get bored during your own leave, why don't you join me? I'm sure we could come up with some way to entertain ourselves."
For a moment, he thought he had imagined her words. But before he could answer, or betray his surprise, she was dismissing him back to the bridge.
He took his chair and after confirming the course with Paris, he activated the PADD she had given him. Sure enough, there was a single set of coordinates that matched a remote area on Clonhasten's eastern continent. He kept up the pretence of studying the PADD to allow his thoughts to roam.
If he were not mistaken, Janeway had propositioned him.
He'd been the recipient of enough similar invitations in the past to recognize the script when he saw it. The shore leave dalliance between people who worked together was common enough that most 'Fleeters gave it a name—"Friendly Fire". Sometimes it marked the start of a relationship between the parties, but more often it was an enjoyable interlude before uniforms and ranks were donned again. Seldom was an invitation explicitly given, but Chakotay was adept at reading the emphasis and pauses on the words that gave it away.
In the two years of their journey, he had never known Janeway to take a lover. He knew about her fiancé, of course, but on deep-space missions such a far away commitment was normally not a barricade to pleasure. He wondered why now, and why him.
There was no question that he wouldn't take her up on the offer. In the early days in the Delta Quadrant, he'd been half in love with her, wondering what she'd be like in his bed, with her hair spread over his skin. But he'd kept his feelings to himself, reading Janeway's aloofness as reticence. Even when she started to flirt with him, when they became friends, he refrained from trying to draw it deeper. Voyager would be out here for a long, long time, and the risk was too great. He'd toyed with the idea of issuing her a shore leave invitation of his own, but had thought she would reject him out of hand and he couldn't afford to compromise their working relationship.
But now, things were different. Chakotay indulged in a few brief moments of fantasy. Her body would be lean and firm underneath the cranberry and black uniform. Taut thighs would wrap around him, and she'd urge him on in that throaty voice. Would she let down her hair so that it spilled over him like a sheet of flame? Would she kiss him as if she loved him?
"...Commander?"
Paris' amused voice dragged him back to the bridge. "The Clonhastens are hailing us."
"On screen." Chakotay's voice betrayed no emotion, and he turned his mind to the matter of dealing with the aliens.
*
His leave started two days after Janeway's. He beamed down to the coordinates of the nearest town, and rented a local hovercar to get to her cabin, arriving mid afternoon. His overnight bag contained fresh clothes, two bottles of local wine, and little else. If he was misinterpreting, or if she had changed her mind, then he would simply share a glass of wine with her and spend his leave elsewhere.
The cabin was deserted. He left the hovercar in a visible spot, where she couldn't miss it when she arrived back, and entered the cabin. Inside was spacious, and bore the hallmarks of Janeway. A cold cup of coffee sat on the bench, a pile of PADDs lay on the table, and the single bedroom was disarranged, the bedclothes strewn over the room, as if she had turned restlessly in her sleep. Chakotay crossed to the bed and lifted the pillow; it bore the fresh scent of her hair.
For a moment, he thought about leaving a token on her pillow, something to let her know he was accepting her tacit invitation. But then he remembered Maccenheim, a lieutenant on his first ship, and he reconsidered. Maccenheim's tale was a classic disaster story, one of misinterpretation and crossed wires, mixed signals in the subtle dance of the friendly fire invitation. The lieutenant had been on good terms with his direct superior, the first officer on the Normandy. She had invited him to spend shore leave with her, promising him fun and something unforgettable. Cocky Maccenheim had beamed in naked to the location, only to find the Normandy's senior staff assembled for an exciting day of white water rafting.
No. Chakotay would not perform the Maccenheim Maneuver.
Instead, he wandered out to the veranda that ran around the cabin. The view drew his eye out to the west, over the undulating landscape that led to Clonhasten's major city. A cloudy haze of blue hung over the forest, the effervescence of the native vegetation at dusk. Birdsong floated in the air like a poem and the air smelled fresh and tangy. He sat down in an easy chair and propped his feet on the rail.
When Janeway returned, an hour or a day later, he was totally relaxed, enjoying the evening symphony of bird and animal noises. She must have spotted him from a distance and entered the cabin before joining him, as the first he knew of her return was when she sat next to him, bearing two glasses of the local wine he'd brought.
"Wonderful, isn't it?" Her throaty chuckle brought him abruptly back to the present.
She was looking at him, a quizzical expression on her face, as if she were wondering what he was doing here. Doubt kicked him in the guts, and Maccenheim's mortified face swam in front of his vision. Janeway wasn't dressed for visitors, certainly not for a lover. A loose cotton shirt was tied at her waist. Sturdy hiking shorts rode high on her thighs, exposing their long, lean length to his gaze, and she wore old-looking hiking boots. Her hair hung long, freed from the bun, and caught in a clasp at the back of her neck.
"There's a viewpoint further up the mountain," she explained, correctly interpreting his look. "I hiked up there on the recommendation of the ambassador. He was right—it's wonderful." She sipped her wine, and continued, "It's so peaceful—we all need times like this to unwind."
He let her talk, content to listen and sip his wine, and watched her hands, slim and expressive as they gesticulated in accompaniment to her words. A story she'd heard in the Clonhasten market place this morning, a description of the food she'd had for her lunch. Relaxed, flowing talk, that didn't require him to participate, but allowed him to study her instead.
"You don't miss Voyager?"
She lifted an eyebrow. "I know she's in good hands. Tuvok will take care of her until we return."
She'd said "we".
"Commander?"
Again, he'd wandered off into his thoughts, and he'd missed her question. "I'm sorry, Captain. I was dreaming."
She smiled, refilled his wine, and mischief danced in her eyes. "That was obvious. Engrossing dreams, I hope?"
"Of course." Her banter brought him back to what he hoped for. "So what will you do tomorrow?"
She put her glass down on the table, and rested a hand on his knee. He felt its slight weight and heat through the thin pants he wore.
"Well, that depends on you." Her head tilted to one side; there was a quizzical look on her face, and an invitation he couldn't misinterpret.
His heart sped up and warmth pooled in his groin. "I think I'm up for anything you may have in mind."
"Good," she said, and closed the gap, winding a slim hand around his neck to draw him down to her.
Her kiss was decisive and demanding, a reflection of her command, but there was still a question in it. Chakotay rested his palm on her neck, feeling her pulse racing underneath her skin, drawing her into the kiss, softening it so that it became a gentler giving. He coaxed her lips open so that the kiss deepened, before he drew away.
"Oh yes," she breathed, and he realized he'd passed some sort of final test.
Moving away slightly, her persona shifted again. "You realize this can only be for here and now?" she said. "I can't offer you more than this."
He nodded. "I know. Friendly fire."
"Yes." The softness in her eyes was at odd with her brisk tones. From her voice, she might have been discussing the status of the warp core, but her eyes burned ice blue.
Briefly, he wished there might be more. Tenderness surged in a consuming wave, and he put a gentle hand to her cheek. "It's enough, Kathryn. For now."
For a moment, in her heartbeat of hesitation, he wondered if he'd said too much, implied a giving of his heart in the open-ended promise. Then her lips twisted, and the crook-cornered smile was back, making him think he'd imagined the misty moment of faraway that had come and gone in her eyes.
She shifted in her chair, drawing his attention to the lean curve of her thighs, and his groin tightened in anticipation. But with the words spoken, and the invitation offered and accepted, Janeway seemed in no rush to proceed to the conclusion. Instead, she sipped her wine, her eyes on the distant horizon.
He reached for her free hand, entwining her fingers with his own. Her hand felt small and slightly callused against his palm. "I wouldn't have taken you for a nature lover." His words were chosen with care, bringing a neutrality to the subject. Janeway wasn't the sort to go back on a decision once made, but he didn't want her uncomfortable.
"When I was young, I wasn't," she agreed readily. "Tennis was my sport, hiking for pleasure never occurred to me. But since I've actually lived in space, I've come to appreciate it more. Now you seem different." Her piercing gaze switched to his face. "I can imagine you living peacefully with nature, running naked through the forest..."
"Not naked, Kathryn." Relishing the use of her name." Too many brambles, bisa thorns, and stinging trees on my world."
Her gaze skittered away from his face, down his body to linger on his groin. Her mouth twitched. "I can imagine that could be a problem."
For a few minutes more they sipped the wine, and watched the sun lower itself behind the mountains.
"I should think about dinner," Janeway murmured.
She moved to stand beside him, reaching for his empty glass. Chakotay had a fleeting glimpse of taut rear as she leaned, then a gentle touch on the back of his neck, a pause as if she were waiting for him to say—or do—something. He could smell her; salt and woman, mixed in with the fresh air. Then she was gone, and he watched her straight back and curved bottom disappearing into the cabin.
For a few moments, he rested back in delicious anticipation and not a little smugness. She was his senior officer—and she had chosen him. He was not without vanity; he knew he was good in bed, although he doubted that particular piece of knowledge would have reached the captain's ears. Seska had been his only short-lived partner in recent times, and he had drawn back from that relationship, fearing to upset the delicate balance between command and crew. And, if he was honest, because of his growing attraction to Janeway herself.
Janeway would make her move when she was ready, he decided. After all, she had initiated this encounter, and she would choreograph it. When she was ready.
"Dinner." Her husky voice intruded on his reverie, and he rose and followed her inside.
The table was pulled over in front of the window, and set for two. Nothing overtly romantic. There were no candles or flowers, although the lighting was dimmed.
"I've replicated something from my personal files," she said. "I hope you enjoy it."
She bustled around, finding condiments and cutlery, and he had to smile at the incongruous picture she made. Somewhere along the way, she'd shed her boots and socks, and the graceful curve of bare legs and small arched feet underneath the old shorts were a long way from the officious captain's uniform and boots.
The conversation meandered freely throughout dinner, an easy sharing of opinions, tinged with a subtle edge of flirtation. Janeway was an adept flirt, and Chakotay found himself intrigued by the sideways slide of her eyes from his, the way her fingers caressed the rim of the wineglass, around and around in a seductive rhythm. And the slight smile that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.
By unspoken agreement, they left the dishes on the table and moved back to the veranda. The night was warm, moist and soft, and the air sat heavily on his skin. Leaning side by side on the rail, Chakotay nearly forgot the reason he was here, so caught up was he in the conversation and the night. But then Janeway moved again, and her hip brushed his, and once more that shaft of magnetism, of current, of knowing, arrowed down his nerve endings.
He caught her closer to him, aligning their hips, and one hand brushed up her back to cup her nape. In the gloaming her eyes shone brightly, and she stretched up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Walk with me?" she invited, and pulled away before he could reply.
He caught up with her at the bottom of the steps where the deepening twilight merged into shadows under the veranda. She slipped on her shoes, and side by side, they walked through the night, hands occasionally brushing.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is." But he was looking at the curve of her cheek and the swoop of russet hair, which fell like a bird's wing down her back.
Their circuit had brought them back to the steps. Leading the way back into the house, Janeway halted. In the darkness, he heard her shuddering indrawn breath, and then her mouth was on his, sweet and urgent, her body pressing his to the wall, her hands rising to hold his head.
As if he could pull away, he thought, and his blood sang with her aggression. He met her measure for measure, enclosing her within his arms, pulling her tightly against his body. Tongues met and mated, and spiraled them higher. Their jagged breathing broke the peaceful night, louder, harsher in the absence of other sounds.
Pulling aside the neck of her shirt, he let his mouth move down her jaw, along her neck into the vee of her shirt.
"Impatient," she said, and the thread of laughter in her voice emboldened him further.
The shirt's closures came abruptly apart as he tugged, and his seeking lips closed over a bare breast. Her nipple peaked instantly in his mouth, and he softened his caress, swirling over the rigid nub with his tongue. The shirt hung loose as he dropped to his knees, moving from one breast to the other, using her mumbles of pleasure as his guide. Janeway's hands gripped his head, painfully tight over his ears.
Her amusement evaporated as his lips moved further down her stomach, rimming her bellybutton. Chakotay blew softly, and watched the tiny hairs quiver and rise. His cock was painfully hard, and he pulled at the waist of her shorts with careless fingers. The fastening popped and the worn material gave way. He yanked it down, along with her panties, over her hips, so that he could see the patch of hair between her thighs.
She sighed, and parted her legs for him, leaning back against the wall. Briefly, he looked up along her body, which was etched in shadowy lines in the moonlight. Valleys of dark and light, a pool of inky blackness between her thighs, and hillocks of silver at her breasts. His fingertips advanced, brushed moist curls, and feeling her readiness, he parted her folds and put his mouth to her sex, holding her open, the better to taste her.
Her shriek caught him by surprise and he pulled back, afraid he'd hurt her somehow, but her guttural grunt and the hands insistently pushing on his head set him straight. Willingly he resumed, stroking her folds with flat, moist strokes, circling her clitoris which stood proud and ripe like a small fruit. Her juices flowed freely, drowning his chin.
She came hard when he pushed a thick finger deep inside her, and the spasms and her taste nearly set him off. Drawing back, he waited on his haunches to see what she wanted. For a moment there was only the sound of her rapid breathing, then she reached down and pulled him to his feet so strongly that he overbalanced and toppled against her.
Janeway drew him down to her mouth, fitting her lips to his sticky ones with every evidence of pleasure.
"That's a good start," she whispered against his mouth. "I think the main course will be even better." Small hands molded his erection, smoothing the pant's fabric over its turgid outline. Taking his hand, she led him into the bedroom.
Somewhere, since she'd returned, she'd found time to smooth the bed. She sat down, tugging him forward so that he stood between her parted thighs.
"Take your top off."
He obeyed, pulling his loose shirt over his head. Looking down, he could see her slender body, thighs gripping his legs, and the hot smell of her sex rose up through the warm room. Her fingers deftly unsnapped his pants, and she pushed them down, freeing his penis, which sprang out, hard and thick.
"I guessed you'd be a big man all over." Warm, her voice, lazy and approving.
Her fingers worked around his groin, pushing his clothing away, brushing his turgid cock, and that light touch alone nearly set him off. The sight of her burnished head, so tantalizingly close to his member, made him twitch against her fingers. Oh, if only she would take him in her mouth, wrap those lips around him, stroke his glans with her fingers, if only she would-
And she was, and the shock and the pleasure nearly made him shoot his load right then. Heat, wet and clasping, encompassed him, and the feel of her mouth sliding slowly over his shaft made his knees tremble like a cadet with his first Dabo girl.
"Stop," he managed, although the word nearly killed him.
She flicked him a glance to show she understood, and continued for a torturous few seconds more, seconds that brought him tenuously close to the edge.
Pressing a final kiss to the weeping purple head, she withdrew and crawled further up the bed, sitting back against the headboard, and drawing her knees up, so that her glistening sex was wide and raw. "Show me what else you can do," she challenged, with a command echo in her voice.
Shucking his bunched clothes, Chakotay dropped to the bed beside her. It only took a second to roll her underneath him, pinning her wrists tightly above her head with one of his hands. The other teased her sodden curls, slipping fingers slowly in and out of her while he fought for some control. He knew that once his cock plunged into her hot, wet slit, once he was buried within her, so deeply that he wouldn't know where she began and he ended, once they were joined, then he wouldn't last long. And he wanted her rocking on the edge of the same precipice he had reached.
She gasped, a feathery little sound, and thrust her hips towards his hand, moving in an ever-increasing rhythm.
"Do it." Command steel in her voice.
He ignored her, and continued to tease, his thumb rubbing slowly over her clitoris.
"Now!" An edge of anguish threaded her voice, and he couldn't resist.
Dropping to his elbows, his cock aligned between her legs, sliding over the moist skin of her inner thighs, up toward its goal. A single blunt thrust and he slid into her sodden channel. The shock was intense, and for a moment both of them lay still. Chakotay looked down into her eyes, wide and surprised as if this were unexpected, something magical. Their eyes locked, and a spark arced between them. Her eyes closed, and her head rolled, breaking the contact.
"Please..." Who said it he didn't know, but the word shattered the spun silence that penetration had brought, and he started to move.
Holding her hips, he pounded into her, feeling her stretch and clasp around him, feeling the tight, moist channel grip his cock closer than his own fist ever could, feeling those muscular walls start to shiver, the build of her orgasm, ripples of feeling, so inherently female.
Her shout split the night, and as she contracted around him he couldn't hold back. His own climax overwhelmed him and his fast, rhythmic motion disintegrated into sharp, violent spurts, and he streamed his pleasure into her.
The urge was to slump bonelessly over her, but instead he withdrew, his shining cock lying limply on his thigh, and bending, he put his mouth to her once more. This time, as he gentled her with his lips and tongue, there was his own salty-bitter taste mixed in with her own essence. He pushed her sweetly into a final, gentle climax, resting a hand on her stomach to feel its clench. Only when she sighed, and her thighs fell limply apart, did he crawl up to lie beside her, pulling her close to him.
Her head rested on his chest, her hair tickling his chin.
"You're rather good at this." Her voice curled lazily through the room, her words slurred on the edge of sleep.
Chakotay stroked her hair back from her face, amazed at the surge of tenderness he felt. After all, this was just sex, merely the friendly fire of Starfleet tradition. But this small, strong woman lying against his chest stirred a warmth and a protectiveness long missing from his sexual encounters over the years.
"We're good at this," he corrected her. "You and me, together."
He felt her lips curve into a smile against his chest as he let sleep claim him.
*
He woke early, when the slanting sunlight through the window touched his face. Janeway was still sleeping, her fingers loosely curled against her cheek, the sheet around her waist. She looked younger and softer in this position. But then she stirred, rolling onto her back, and the sight of her breasts made his burgeoning early morning arousal twitch. He moved closer, letting his cock brush her thigh.
Turning her head, she regarded him. "I see you're awake."
He nodded and pushed his hips further, eyes closing as she reached down and grasped his penis.
The softness he saw in her vanished as she rolled over, pressing her hips and buttocks against him.
"What are you waiting for?"
He took the suggestion, and let his cock drag down between her buttocks, pressing lightly between her cheeks in case that was her intent. But she shifted again, and he slipped effortlessly into her sex, still liquid from the night before.
This time their movements were slow and lazy. He let his hand rest on her hip as he surged and retreated, slowly stroking in and out. Janeway's hand was between her thighs, and he could feel the motion of her fingers as she pressed and stroked, now where they joined, now higher, on her own pleasure center.
He came before her, his orgasm washing over him like the sunlight from the window, and her fingers pushed her into her own release shortly afterwards.
They lay together, joined in lethargy. Her breasts filled his hands, and her buttocks rested on his thighs. Their position, in repose, felt more intimate than their previous abandoned sex had done. Here, they were equal, two people enjoying an interlude out of time. In this bed, he could almost believe that they were two people who were allowed to walk along the pathway of feelings. Here, he could almost believe they could fall in love.
Almost.
"What are you thinking?" Janeway's voice drifted lazily into the room.
He hesitated before answering, aware that he couldn't speak his real thoughts. "About us," he compromised. "How good we are together. And how I finally got you to serve under me."
Her snort of amusement made her buttocks jiggle against him. "Trust a man to think of that." Rolling over, she kissed him carelessly with sleep-slack lips, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
Chakotay propped himself up on one elbow, the better to watch her. Her hair was disheveled, falling down her back in a flaming snarl, and her breasts bore the marks of his fingers. She rose and stretched, throwing her figure into a womanly curve, giving him his first complete view of her body, of her compact shape, and small breasts. Of flaring hips and the forest of hair between her legs, matted with their combined fluids.
"I'm taking a shower," she said, over her shoulder. "It's a large one."
Smiling, he took the hint, and swung himself out of bed to join her, slipping into the cubicle and taking the soap out of her hands to rub lazy circles over her body.
Janeway pressed herself against him, reaching between them to stroke his lengthening penis. "Tell me how many days leave do we have left?"
Even as the warmth of being wanted and the hum of sexual arousal throbbed in his blood, Chakotay knew that it wasn't enough. Would he ever get enough of this woman?
But, he thought, as her hand palmed his length, a finger circling the sensitive tip, what they had was good. It would have to be enough.
For now.
(((FIN)))
Feedback? Please. Shayenne
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