VARIATIONS ON A THEME

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Rated NC-17

PART 8: ENDGAME - COMPLETION

The ready room was silent after the exaltation of the bridge. The door closed behind Chakotay, abruptly cutting off the celebratory noises. Kathryn was sitting on the couch underneath the viewport, and she turned at his approach. Standing, she walked into his arms.

"We're home, Chakotay," she whispered, and her voice trembled with an emotion seldom seen. "We're finally home."

He found he had no words to answer her, so he simply rocked her in his arms, pressing his face into the cloud of hair. When he could speak, he said, "You did it, love, the crew came home to Earth."

"We did it, " she corrected him, her voice muffled in his uniform front. "Voyager came home." She raised her face and he was surprised to see the tears streaking her cheeks. "And, against all odds, we came home together."

He understood the meaning in her words. It hadn't been easy keeping their relationship alive, keeping the love flowing. So many things had threatened to tear them apart: the Equinox, the void, the Borg, Seven of Nine, Jaffen, Teero...He shuddered; that was a painful memory, still raw and fresh, the knife edge of its hurt not yet fully healed.

But they were still together, and each crisis, each disagreement had brought them closer. The things that were beyond their control had festered the longest, but they had finally been able to put them aside and rebuild their closeness. And now, they were home and could chart the course of their future to their own desires.

Kathryn raised her face to him, and the shining hope in her eyes made him catch his breath. "There will be formalities," she said, "but you and the Maquis will go free. We'll have to account for many of our actions, but they won't keep us around the clock. Indiana this weekend, Dorvan the next?"

He nodded; no surprise in her words since the decision about the Maquis had been long known. Indeed, the only unknown factor was what would happen to Voyager herself. He would miss this little ship. Miss her stoutheartedness, her gameness, miss her battered bulkheads and idiosyncrasies. And he would miss their quarters, and their wide bed lit by starlight. He gave in to the impulse and bent his head to kiss her.

Kathryn kissed him back, straining up to meet him, urgency in her response, her mouth opening to admit his tongue. He wound his hands in her hair, binding her to him, and kissed her as if it were the first time, as if they hadn't been lovers for years. His passion, always quick to rouse, flared like a Vidalian sunset, and he deepened the kiss, falling into her, losing himself in her arms.

Her hand crept down his spine to cup his buttock, pull him closer so that his erection pushed into her belly. She moaned into his mouth, the breathy sound of passion he loved so much, and shifted, so that she straddled his thigh.

He knew what she wanted, but the ready room had always been out of bounds for anything more than an occasional kiss. Except for the time when Teero had controlled his actions.

"Here?" he queried.

"Here," she said, and drew his hand to her breast.

For a moment he rubbed her nipples through the uniform fabric, feeling them stiffen into rigid points, then he pulled open her jacket and tugged at the turtleneck. She took the hint, removing it and the tank in one smooth movement.

Flicking open her bra, he cupped her breasts, moving his thumbs gently over her nipples, enjoying their hard candy stiffness. Small fingers worked at his pants fastening, then pushed them down, working his underpants carefully over his erection. He tried to push them out of the way, but she stopped him.

"Naked, Chakotay," she said. "I want to feel your skin."

So he moved away, and started to strip, seeing her do the same. Her breasts fell forward as she bent to remove her boots, giving them an illusion of fullness, of fecundity, that was normally absent. Chakotay's breath caught. They were home and anything now was possible, even children, something they had never allowed themselves to consider on Voyager. Hastily he shed the rest of his clothes, toeing off his boots and kicking them aside. He approached Kathryn, just as she moved toward him, and they met in the middle of the room, a slow contact of skin on skin.

"Computer, engage privacy lock and dim lights," he belatedly remembered, just as his mouth touched hers and reason spiraled out of the viewport.

The kiss grew from a sweet, soft tender melding of mouths, to a fierce white-hot intensity in seconds. There was a world outside of the ready room, he knew, but right now it seemed a reality away. They couldn't make this last, it would be a fast coupling, but a loving one none the less. A reaffirmation of love and commitment before they returned to their duty posts to complete the voyage.

Without breaking the kiss, they sank down onto the carpet, and his mouth traveled down the side of her neck, lapping at her skin, then pausing to suck hard enough to leave a mark. He needed that proof of ownership, wanted her branded from his loving as she stood in front of admirals and boards of inquiry.

She gasped, and moved her head, allowing him further access, so that he could leave his cloudy raspberry marks down to her breast. When he reached her nipple, he gentled, soothing the hard peak with his tongue, suckling lightly, so that she moaned low in her throat. He wanted to move on, trace a meandering path along her belly, to lie between her thighs and part her flushed and swollen cleft with his tongue, taste her salty thick taste, and bury his nose in her coarse hair until her scent made his head spin. But that would have to wait, until after the protocol dance, after the pandering and posturing.

Kathryn's hand slid over his hip, seeking his cock, and then stroked his stiffened shaft in a rhythmic motion. He swelled against her fingers, so hard that he thought he'd blow there and then, spilling himself stickily over her fingers. And then, she bent her head and took him in her mouth, sucking hard on his cock head, so that he was positive he wouldn't last. But it seemed she had other ideas.

Raising her head, she parted her thighs, pulled him between. "Now, love, now." Her head tossed back, arching her breasts up into his chest and her eyes glittered with arousal.

Moving into position, he thrust home, following the path he knew so well, pushing into her clasping heat, feeling the slickness, the wetness as she accepted him deep within her body. Her sigh reverberated through him, and he caught her breath in his mouth, kissing her deeply to complete the circle of their joining. He started to move, rhythmic, hard thrusts, his cock feeling like it was clamped in a vice of warm honey. Small sighs turned to moans, a gasp with each particularly deep thrust, and she raised her knees, locking her ankles over his back to allow him to push in deeper.

The urgency dissipated; instead of needing the release of orgasm, Chakotay found he wanted to remain inside her, moving gently, for as long as possible. He slowed his movements, until he was slowly, shallowly stroking in and out. She didn't mind, indeed her hips rose to meet him, and her labia quivered around his cock, the shallow stroking stimulating her clit. Maybe he could stay like this forever, he thought, buried inside Kathryn, frissons of feeling caressing him, admirals and Starfleet and the crew blown away out of sight, out of mind. But Kathryn had other ideas, and her hips began to move more urgently, a small hand creeping around to his buttock to pull him deeper inside her.

And he knew he couldn't stay like this forever, as he felt the orgasm slowly rise up from his belly, tightening his balls, and then, the rush of semen up his shaft, as he came with a roar that they surely must have heard on the bridge. Seconds later, Kathryn was clenching around him, a flutter of her internal muscles and a sharp gasp of orgasm.

They lay joined for long moments until he softened and disconnected, then he rolled away and studied her. Her eyes glowed, a mixture of the earlier exaltation of homecoming, and the softness of a well-loved woman. His chain of possession marched in raspberry marks from her neck to her breast, and her thighs still lay akimbo, her pubic hair damp with his spend and her juices.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "With my body, I thee worship..."

(((FIN)))

Feedback? Yes please. Shayenne