SHINE

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount, the order of the words belongs to me.

Rated NC-17

Practically PWP, but actually a sequel to the PG-rated "One Small Shift", which, according to Mary S., makes it a "Coda" coda coda. And it's all KJ's fault.

Everything and nothing had changed.

Kathryn sat in her command chair, mere inches from Chakotay, who was immersed in a PADD. The bridge crew was all at least pretending to be involved in their work, although in fact, there really was little to do as the region of space was a quiet one. It made Tom and Harry's banter a welcome relief

Outwardly, Kathryn appeared as calm and relaxed as any of them, but her skin felt taut, as if it couldn't contain her. Her breathing was shallow, small tidal breaths that barely stirred the deep layers of anticipation bubbling within. The fluttering inside her stomach made the thought of food impossible. She waved away Chakotay's suggestion of lunch, but met his eyes and smiled when he said, "We'll have dinner then, Kathryn. Later."

Later. Everything and nothing had changed. Everything and nothing would change.

Her skin, indeed her whole body, felt charged. She didn't have a corporeal presence anymore; she was a shining, radiant mass of pure energy and anticipation. Only her uniform held her together. If not for that, she knew she would fly apart into rays of light and heat, for surely no physical body could be this energized and aware. The knowledge made the time pass slowly; the touch of the uniform on her skin made her conscious of every inch of it, and the warm air on the bridge seemed muggy and stagnant, barely able to supply the oxygen she needed. Her face felt flushed, and her palms clammy.

When Tom offered to bring her a sandwich from the messhall, she shook her head, sure that if she answered her voice would betray her. It couldn't sound normal, not now. It would be husky, low, aroused. The voice of a woman in love, a woman who would be thoroughly loved. Later.

When Chakotay returned from lunch, she stood. "Commander, I'll be in my ready room." Her voice didn't shake, but she was aware of the undercurrent of longing in her tones. She hoped no one else had noticed.

Chakotay merely nodded; maybe he didn't trust his own words to sound normal either.

Inside the ready room, she took a deep, shaky breath. The air seemed to scorch her lungs, and she leaned against the door for a moment to compose herself. She couldn't stand this; couldn't tolerate the waiting. Now that she had finally made the decision to let Chakotay into her life in every way, each second that delayed the consummation seemed intolerable. How had she waited so long?

She sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on reports, but the words danced away out of the viewport, eluding her comprehension. After a few minutes, she gave up, and leaned her head back on the chair and closed her eyes. Fractured images swam before her - the alien in the shape of her father telling her to follow him, then Chakotay's dark eyes, his dear face moving closer, immediately before he had kissed her. It had been a soft kiss, one of promise, rather than a grasping of the moment. A gentle touching of mouths, an acknowledgement of what was to come, but no more. The words, the passion, the joining, they would all come later. Tonight.

Yes, this decision was prompted by a need to grasp her opportunities before they slipped away from her, a reinforcement of the knowledge that life was temporary, very fragile. Protocols wouldn't warm her bed for the next sixty-five years.

"You're dead a very long time, Kathryn," her father had been fond of saying to her. "Don't waste a single opportunity. You have one life, so live it, don't wait for the empty promise of another one."

Her father, ever the pragmatic scientist, hadn't believed in an afterlife. And, Kathryn was sure that he had been ornery enough, that if there really were a life beyond the physical, he would have denied it, just to be proved correct. It had been one of the major factors that had told her that the image of her father wasn't all it seemed. The words--of promise and enticement--hadn't been those of her dogmatic and practical father.

Her musing was interrupted by the chime, and Tuvok walked into the room.

"What is it, Tuvok?" she asked. "Have a seat."

"Captain, I am concerned about your health." Tuvok cut straight to the point. "Do you need to go to sickbay? You are flushed, and your respiration is shallow and fast. Are you unwell?"

For a moment she stared at him, then stifled a smile. "I'm fine, Tuvok. But thank you for your concern."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Then, Captain, I will leave."

For a moment she considered asking for his advice, telling him about the change in her relationship with Chakotay, but what would it serve? Her mind was made up and if Tuvok disapproved, well... so be it. Besides, it wasn't really his business anyway. But later, she would tell him, as his friend.

At the door, Tuvok paused. "Captain, as your officer, I advise caution with that which you are about to change. However, as your friend, I wish you both well. Your union is a sound and logical decision."

For a moment she was too taken aback to respond. When the words unfroze, she asked him, "How did you know?"

"Since the alien took over your consciousness, I have taken the precaution of monitoring your quarters more than is customary. I knew that the commander was worried, and that last night..."

Kathryn held up a hand. "I get the picture," she said wryly. "I think you can step down the security now."

"I will do so. I am sure you will be adequately protected in your quarters now."

Adequately protected? She would be safe, totally cocooned in Chakotay's warmth and love. She snapped back to the ready room when she realized that Tuvok was still speaking.

"... and I believe this is more than logic, Captain. I believe that you and the commander are bondmates. Your bond will be as enduring as any Vulcan union."

It was difficult to swallow past the lump in her throat. "Thank you, Tuvok. I'm glad I have your blessing."

"Humans need one another for comfort. It is different for Vulcans."

For a moment, she thought she saw longing in his eyes, but of course, she must be mistaken. "I'll get you back to T'Pel." She made the promise in a low voice. "I swear it."

For a brief moment, he ducked his head in acknowledgement. "I know you will, Captain. I do not doubt it."

The door closed behind his upright back, leaving Kathryn alone at her desk, thoughts whirling, blood singing.

She returned to the bridge for the last part of her shift, but her heightened senses picked up every rustle of his uniform as he shifted, every quiet sigh. The only time she met his eyes was when he handed her the PADD containing the latest duty rosters. Their hands brushed, and she froze, conscious only of the slight abrasion of his fingertips on her skin. Chakotay had stilled too, she noticed. Her hand hesitated, urgent with the need to rub over his skin, smooth over his palm, down to where his pulse beat a frantic rhythm in his wrist.

What would it be like, to feel his skin unfettered by clothing, more than the casual touches she'd allowed herself up to now? His skin was smooth, shining and golden, she'd seen him before--on New Earth, stripped to the waist chopping wood, also in sickbay, the medical sheet lowered to reveal his shoulders--she'd touched him for scant seconds, but never as she had wanted. She moved her hand away from his and studied the PADD intently.

Janeway handed the bridge over to Lieutenant Murphy at shift change, and left precipitously. In the lift, as she laid her head back against the wall, willing her butterflies to settle, she remembered she and Chakotay hadn't arranged a time for dinner, or decided whose quarters. His, she thought. He was the better cook. But then she wasn't hungry for food, and her bed was bigger...

Letting herself into her quarters, she hesitated. She wanted a bath; craved the simulacrum of relaxation it would bring. Chakotay wouldn't be ready yet, they could arrange a time later. Kicking off her boots, she shed her uniform piecemeal on the way to the bathroom.

Naked, Kathryn paused in front of the replicator, twisting her hair up on top of her head. "Computer, one glass of chilled dry white wine." Maybe the alcohol would take the edge off her nerves. She didn't want this to be a tense, awkward experience, made strange by the enormity of the decision and her previous years of abstinence. No, the transmutation of their friendship to the intimacy of lovers should be seamless; a joyous path that they would tread together.

The warm water lulled her somewhat. Idly, she soaped herself, running careful hands over her arms and torso. Would he like her body? She didn't consider herself beautiful, although her previous lovers had been vocal in their appreciation. Her fingers drifted over the lean upper arms, over the jutting collarbones. Too skinny, her breasts too small? Her body too fragile, too insubstantial? Chakotay's other lovers--the ones she knew of--had been larger women than she, bigger boned and fuller of figure. How would she compare?

But the heat she had seen in his eyes had been for her. She rested her head back against the tub and closed her eyes, willing her body to relax. The water did the trick, and she drifted lethargically, the buzz of tension dissipating into the water.

Exactly when she became aware she wasn't alone, she didn't know. Kathryn opened her eyes and saw him there, leaning against the doorframe. The posture was a relaxed one, but his eyes... His eyes reflected his tension, his gaze hungry as it swept over her nudity. He wore loose pants, in some softly draped material, and the fabric outlined his arousal, tenting out in front of him. The bathwater was clear, free of any foam, and Kathryn knew she must be fully exposed to his gaze. The hard-earned relaxation evaporated, and once again, the surge of arousal raced through her veins.

This is it, she thought, exultant. This is our time.

Chakotay didn't move from the door frame, but his eyes followed her every move as she lifted a leg, crooking it at the knee so that she was exposed to him. Her arms rested on the sides of the tub, and the anticipation welled anew. And she didn't want to wait any longer, couldn't wait any more. Standing, she let the water stream down from her body into the tub. She stepped out, uncaring of the pools she left on the floor, and moved over to stand in front of him.

He didn't move, just regarded her with the same heated gaze through half lidded eyes. His hands trembled slightly at his sides, but he made no move to touch her. With careful fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, easing it away from his shoulders, so that his chest was exposed to her gaze. The heat from his body warmed her, rising like the sun, and she was emboldened by his passivity. The trembling of his hands, and his half closed eyes told her all she needed to know. Bending, she touched her mouth to a flat brown nipple, and was rewarded by a shudder.

His hands came up to tangle in her hair, and when he spoke there was a radiance and a certainty in his voice. "Kathryn." He said her name as if it were new to him, rolling each of the syllables in his mouth, drawing out the sound of her name so that it reverberated in the air between them. "Kathryn."

And then he was moving, drawing her up, up against his body, his mouth brushing through her hair, to her forehead, down to her eyelids, closed in acceptance. It quested lower, along a cheekbone, his lips so soft, so assured, yet seeking.

Her breasts were crushed between them, the moisture from her bath making their skins cling damply together. Raising up on her toes, she turned her head, enough so that he could take her mouth, a fierce, demanding kiss, the antithesis of his gentle probing exploration in the ready room. There were words she should say, she realized dimly as she surrendered to his sensual assault. Words of love, words of commitment. But in her heart she knew his involvement equaled her own - exceeded it even. Her lips opened under his, and she let him plunder her mouth, sweeping away the indecision and hesitations that had gone before.

Her hands reached for the fastening of his pants; this was not the time for slow, exploratory lovemaking, that would come later. Now was for affirmation and giving. He let her undo his pants, and push them off his hips, then he was shuffling backwards, stepping out of his pants as he went, letting the soft shirt fall to the ground at his feet. Then they were sinking, down together onto the sturdy carpeting in the living area, and his mouth was pressed to her throat as he rolled her over. Her thighs parted around his body, he moved between, over on top of her. His lips moved against her throat, her name maybe, words that might have been ones of love, but she felt them simply as a gentle susurration against her skin.

The probing shaft moved higher, pressing into her inner thigh. "Kathryn," he murmured into her throat. "I can't wait any longer."

"Then don't," she answered, shifting slightly so that his weight pressed more fully into her, so that he was aligned, hard to soft. "Come into me now." And she arched against him as he pressed home, sliding fully into her with one sure thrust.

There was no friction; the spinning, shining glorious day had made her liquid for him. For a minute, neither of them moved. She absorbed his fullness, curling a leg around his thighs, the calmness that of the storm's eye. And then that eye shifted, and they were back out into the maelstrom of passion. They were moving, pushing hard against one another, thrust and counter thrust, the arch of her hips, the downward push of his, and the waves were rising, the storm in her blood sinking inexorably lower, centering in her core, whipped to a frenzy by his movements. His hands were on her body, their sexes melded together. And then the storm crested and broke, and the wave of orgasm rolled over her, building, growing and breaking in a smooth arc of feeling, a dark golden red wash that swept her away. Spiraling down, she was aware of his big body still moving in hers, and then his thrusts spilled into the surge of his own orgasm, and she felt the wetness of his release inside her.

The relaxation was total. She lay underneath him, boneless and floating on the ripples of her release. His mouth still moved at her throat, but now she heard the words, and they were the ones of love she had wanted to give to him.

"Too heavy," he murmured, and shifted so that he lay next to her.

She missed the fullness inside; only the echo of his body remained, and the slickness on her thighs. His hands were moving again, feathering over her body, brushing her nipples to rigid peaks, stroking her arms, her sides, her belly with gentle touches. He was learning her anew, she realized, learning the Kathryn who was now his lover.

There were differences for her to learn too; so strange to lie naked with Chakotay, her lover, subtly different from the commander, her friend. She had known his face, his expressions, his gestures for nearly three years, but the slide into lovers shifted the perspective. He was different; they were different.

His explorations took on a more urgent tone, as he slid fingers down, over her thigh, then up to her core. It was still early in the evening and they hadn't eaten, but Kathryn only wanted to lie with him and explore the newness and revel in the experience.

"We should try this in bed," she murmured, stilling his questing hand. And she let him pull her to her feet, and lead her, leaving the cooling bathwater, to the bedroom.

In bed, they lay facing each other, touching, learning. Her fingers drifted over his chest, down the gentle swell of his belly to tangle in the coarse, dark hair at his groin. His penis twitched, growing slightly, tumescent against her hand. The urge to further explore his sex was strong, but instead she moved on and learned the shape of his hard thigh muscles and the way that the hair grew sparsely on the inside, thicker on the outside of his legs.

His hands touched her too, along her sides, around the curve of her breasts, circling inwards with tortuous slowness until once again he touched her nipples. Bending forward, he suckled one into his mouth, surrounding her with his moist breath, teasing her with his tongue until she was breathless. His fingers weren't still; they moved with crawling slowness down her body, to the juncture of her legs. One thick finger teased, slipping through the wetness to curl inside her. She raised a leg slightly, letting him explore, as she gave into the urge to touch him just as intimately.

"So wet, for me," he murmured against her breast. "Just for me."

The shining was back, the rainbow wave cresting in her again as he rubbed. Just as she thought she would shatter, fly apart under his fingers, they were gone. The absence was palpable for long moments, before she saw him kneeling in front of her. There was a glimpse of his hard, golden shaft, before he settled onto his belly, moved her onto her back and parting her thighs further, touched his mouth to her sex.

She arched up to meet him--how could she not?--as he teased, lapping with quick strokes, until the world did splinter into glowing fragments, and she came hard, a fierce wave of excitement. His mouth remained there, gentling her down from her peak, soothing strokes of his tongue on awakened flesh. Then he raised up from her, his lips shining wet, and rolled onto his own back, coaxing her to straddle him.

She was limp from the pleasure he'd given her, but the urge to take him inside her again was overwhelming. Shuffling forward, she grasped his swollen penis, running her fingers around the head. He twitched in her hand, and his eyes half closed. Kathryn let him nudge his way inside her, easing herself down until he was entirely sheathed. So tight, so full, so deep. The fatness of him was a welcome fullness, she was swollen with the sensation, tender tissues engorged. She moved her own fingers down, circling around where they joined, too soon to come again, but she knew his pleasure as keenly as her own as he thrust, hard and fast into her, before she once again absorbed the spill of his release.

For long moments, she still straddled him, feeling him softening within her, the slide of his seed out of her, so that it matted in his pubic hair. Then, she shifted so that she could lie beside him. He didn't seem to need words either, simply content to tangle his hands in her hair and hold her.

In her mind she rearranged the parameters, nudged back the protocols. Sixty-five years from home, and Starfleet regulations, originally designed to build a strong, impartial command team, seemed less relevant. It wouldn't be easy; there was still much that could divide their teamship, let alone irreparably shatter their relationship. But somehow, she thought they would be stronger now, more united.

Chakotay's soft sigh made her wonder if his thoughts ran on parallel lines. But the hand that moved down to cup her breast, fingers moving gently on her nipple, made her think that really, his thoughts couldn't be more different.

(((FIN)))

Feedback? Please. Shayenne

© Shayenne, December 2002 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.