Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount, the order of the words belongs to me.
Rated NC-17
The away team beamed back on board at 1900 after a two-day mission. Chakotay was there to meet Janeway and Tuvok in the transporter room. The Arlade were a friendly race, a bodiless species, who were able to take a simple shape for communication with other races. They professed to want to learn about alien cultures, and their price for Voyager's safe passage through their space was simply some small items of cultural significance, and a chance to talk to representatives of the alien crew and learn a little about their lives.
Chakotay smiled at Kathryn, pleased to see that she looked rested and relaxed. Maybe for once this away mission had been more of an enjoyment than a strain.
She stepped off the transporter pad, flashing him a quick smile. "Good to see you, Commander." She turned to Tuvok. "You're off duty until tomorrow. Get some rest."
"Thank you, Captain." Tuvok nodded. Unlike the captain, he appeared uncharacteristically weary. He left for his quarters, leaving them alone in the transporter room.
"Are you hungry?" he asked. "If you are, you can fill me in on the mission over dinner."
She seemed to consider. "Yes, I am. Has Neelix got anything good to offer, or should we go to my quarters?"
"Using your rations?" he teased gently.
"Certainly. It's only the beginning of the month. I can spare them."
"Actually, I've heard that Neelix has benefited from the cultural exchange on Arlade too - in return for sharing some of his recipes, he had access to their database. Some of his recent dishes have been very good. I suggest the mess hall."
"Fine by me." Kathryn linked her arm through his. "I assume you've got nothing terrible to tell me? The ship is still flying?"
"She is. And unless you count Naomi and Mezoti deciding that they didn't want to go to Seven's lecture on how best to scan gaseous anomalies, nothing remotely terrible has happened."
"What did they do instead?" Kathryn grinned up at him. Her hand was still on his arm, but her fingers had slipped down and they absently rubbed the soft skin of his inner wrist.
"They hid out in one of the Jeffries tubes, with a kadis kot game and a replicated stash of chocolate, lemonade, and cookies. Seven was not amused, but I think Sam was."
"Like a midnight feast." Her thumb still caressed his wrist. To and fro, with soothing motion.
"They were a little sick when we found them. Instead of a lecture on gaseous anomalies, they had a lecture on the effects of rich and sweet food on the stomach from the Doctor." He stood back so that she could precede him into the mess hall.
When they were settled into their usual table in the corner with a tray of food in front of them, Chakotay began. "So, tell me about the mission. Did they approve of the items you brought?"
"They did. They also enjoyed the crew's stories that accompanied them. In particular, they were fascinated by Naomi's Flotter doll, and her explanation of why it was special to her. The young of their race don't have 'toys' as such. They also were most appreciative of Tuvok's Vulcan meditation candle and his abbreviated explanation of Vulcan meditation."
"They didn't know it was the short version did they?" Chakotay picked up a forkful of his food. "This is safe to eat, Kathryn," he teased.
She picked up her own fork. "No, of course not. Tuvok compromised with an explanation that satisfied their own curiosity, without feeling that he was revealing too many of his private beliefs. He wove a compelling tale." Her eyes widened slightly as she tasted the food. "This is good. It tastes salty, the texture is smooth but with enough contrasts that it is pleasing on the palate." She chewed with gusto and reached for another forkful.
Chakotay watched her in bemusement. "The food can't have been good down there," he commented. "Not the way you're devouring Neelix's creation. It's not that great."
Kathryn looked up at him briefly, then back down at her plate. She chewed some more, slower this time, then shrugged. "Tastes very good to me. I wonder what's for dessert?"
"I'll get you some in a moment. You'll get indigestion eating so fast."
She reached out a hand to him across the mess hall table, touching his lightly. Her fingers curled around to entwine with his. "Dear Chakotay." He smiled at the affection in her voice. She must be relaxed if she would touch him like this, here in the mess hall. Her rare bursts of expression were normally saved for the privacy of his or her quarters after dinner. "You're always so good at looking after me."
He looked down at his hand, resting on the table. Hers rested on top, fingers still tangled with his. Her thumb stroked the ball of his thumb. He wouldn't break the clasp for anything so he picked up his fork in his other hand, and continued to eat slowly. Kathryn's open affection was rare, but it gave him the hope to continue loving her from afar, unacknowledged and, he was sure, unreciprocated. The feel of this touch was one he would recreate in his mind later and pretend that it had been a lover's touch, not simply that of a close friend who cared.
Kathryn was studying their joined hands too, with an expression of slight wonderment. When she noticed him watching her, her expression cleared and she smiled. "Going to get me that promised dessert?"
"Of course." Reluctantly he broke the clasp.
"Are you going to tell me what you shared with the Arlade?" He returned with the bowls of dessert.
"It was slightly peculiar. They wanted me to describe human pleasures to them. Really, they should have asked Tom Paris rather than me." Her expression had a hint of melancholia. "I described small things. The taste of my mom's caramel brownies, the smell of a wet field after rain." She flushed slightly. "The pleasure and comfort of a friend's hug."
Chakotay was careful to keep his expression neutral, but the thought that his infrequent embraces ranked among the simple pleasures in her life made him glad. He resolved to hug her more often. "Did they understand?"
"Yes, for the most part. But when I was having trouble putting the sensation of taste into words, they asked my permission to feel the sensations more directly. It's quite safe." Hastily she reassured him, she must have seen him draw breath to protest. "Tuvok gave me his permission." A wry twist of her mouth, and again the soft touch of her hand on his wrist.
"So what did they do?" He took a spoonful of dessert to distract himself from her casual touch.
"It's like a tickle in the mind. A light touch, fairly non-intrusive. Not as intense as a mindmeld, more like when Kes was developing her intuition, when she sometimes just seemed to know what you were thinking."
He nodded; Kes' latent telepathic powers had manifested in an empathic understanding at times.
Kathryn continued, "and then Tourin, the Arlade, sat back and thanked me. He said he now fully understood the pleasure in tasting caramel brownies. Being bodiless, they don't eat as we understand it. The concept of eating, although not a new one for them, is still considered strange."
Again, he nodded. In a way, the tale reminded him of Seven and her incomprehension of the unessentials of life. Unessential to her, but to most people, the simple joy in a hug, a taste of something sweet, a joke shared with a friend, were as necessary as clean water and air. He thought Neelix's dessert was barely edible, but after the first tentative taste, Kathryn seemed to find it as delicious as the main course. She cleared her bowl, going so far as to scrape up the final creamy remains with her spoon.
"Aren't you going to eat yours?" she inquired.
Her expression was avaricious; he handed over his bowl without comment, watching as she finished that too. He had never seen her eat so much.
"That was delicious." Kathryn's smile was wide and contented. "Maybe we can continue our talk in my quarters. Share a glass of wine with me?"
He agreed of course - when could he ever refuse her anything?
In her quarters, she crossed to the replicator, returning with two glasses of wine. Instead of taking her normal chair across from him, she sat down close to him on the couch. Too close. Her knee rubbed into his thigh as she half-turned to hand him the wine. Her fingers brushed his, and the customary frisson ran through him at her light touch. On the bridge, and in work situations, he was able to subdue his reaction to her, but he had always found it hard to control the sensations that her touch evoked when they were alone. And alone in his or her quarters was always the hardest. Even after five years of knowing her, the jolt of sensation was always the same.
He watched her raise her glass and taste the wine. "Ohhhh," the word seemed involuntary.
"Kathryn? Something wrong?"
She recovered swiftly. "No. It's just an exceptionally fine wine. I haven't tried this particular one before. I'll have to mark it as worthwhile."
Chakotay sipped his own glass. He thought that the wine was only average. To his taste the red was a little rough, too young for drinking. Kathryn was back at the replicator, apparently studying the program files.
"Something for afterwards," she mused. "What do you fancy, chocolate mousse or lemon meringue pie?"
"More dessert, Kathryn? You're insatiable tonight." He smiled as she turned to glare at him. "All right, if you're determined to indulge, then the mousse," he replied. "The replicator never has figured out the meringue properly."
She called up two dishes of mousse and returned to curl up on the couch next to him. Her knees brushed his thigh, and she cradled the dish in both hands as if it was something precious. He watched her indecision as to which small pleasure to sample first; a sip of wine or a taste of mousse. Mentally he tacked on a touch of his skin, but figured that pleasure would be all his, never hers. The mousse won. He watched her eyes close briefly as she tasted, then washed it down with a sip of wine.
The evening had a languid quality to it; their interactions had the faint tinge of unreality. Kathryn was too pleasure-focused for it to be real. On an evening such as this, he could pretend they were lovers, pretend that after the dessert was finished, that she would stand, laughingly pull him to his feet, press her length along his body, and weave her hands into his hair as she kissed him. Then she would take him by the hand and lead him to their bed.
For a moment, his breath caught in his throat; the picture in his head was so real. 'If only,' he thought, as the image of what never was floated away from him once again. 'If only.'
He tasted the mousse, and searched for a topic of conversation. Kathryn's bowl was empty and she was watching him through cat-slitted eyes. Her knee still brushed his thigh. The mousse could have been sawdust for all that he noticed it. He put the bowl down after a few mouthfuls.
Kathryn shifted around so that she was alongside him. She reached for his hand, and wove her fingers through his. "This evening with the Arlade," she began, "I learned that pleasure is a gift that should never be denied. The things we take for granted; good food, good wine..." She looked directly at him, and said, "Good company, should be savored and enjoyed." Her eyes searched his face, and for a long moment she hesitated. Then, in a rush, the words tumbled out, words he never thought he would hear. "Chakotay, would you share this night with me, in a celebration of love and friendship?"
Later, much later, Chakotay thought back to that moment. He must have kept on breathing and his heart must have been beating so hard as to burst out of his chest. But he didn't remember any of that. He just remembered the dizzying amalgamation of his fantasies, his wishes of a few moments before, and the here and now that he occupied, sitting on the couch, with Kathryn holding his hand, her thigh pressed against his.
All reason fled, and he didn't think of answering her with words. Instead, he was suddenly desperate to seize the moment that had appeared like a mirage from their ordinary evening. So instead of holding her hands, and declaring his love for her, as he had done so often in his imagination, Chakotay moved with sudden swiftness. He pushed her back on the couch, wrapped his hands in her hair and kissed her.
He wasn't gentle. How could he be, when his dreams were suddenly within reach? He flattened Kathryn against the couch, his tongue delving, tasting the rough red wine she had found so palatable, now turned to honey in her mouth. He gathered her to him, his arms wrapping around her back, as he took her mouth fiercely. An exultant refrain ran through his head. 'Mine, she's mine, she's finally mine. She loves me, she wants me, she needs me. Hers, I'm hers, I'm finally hers. I love her, I want her, I need her.' The words tumbled around his brain, wiping out reasoning and coherent thought. And there was no need to say them aloud, as he was sure that she must know, she was here with him after all. So the words were pushed away, he would bind her to him with words and more -- in the morning.
In the now that he occupied -- on the couch, his mouth on hers- - there was only the feeling and the swelling pleasure. His hands burrowed urgently into her clothes, pushing aside the uniform jacket, skimming her flesh under the turtleneck, cupping a breast. His fingers strummed on her nipple and he wanted to see her. He pushed up her clothes, exposing her breasts, fumbling for the catch of her bra.
Kathryn lay beneath him, her hand rising hesitantly to touch his hair, as his mouth descended to her breasts. He caught her nipple gently between his lips, a soft suckle, a swirl of his tongue, then the urgency claimed him again. He suckled her harder, moving from one nipple to the other, his hands skating over her ribs, down to her waist, to push down further, over the slight swelling of her belly to the elastic of her panties. The thick band dug into his wrist, strained at the awkward angle. He lifted his head and observed her. Her eyes were half closed, hazy with desire. He tugged at her hips until she lifted them. Clumsily he pulled down her pants and underwear, cursing when her boots blocked him.
Her passivity surprised him. In his fantasies, he had thought Kathryn would make love as enthusiastically as she did everything else. But then, he rationalized briefly, before the passion subsumed him, she was thinking that this first fast time was for him. The second time would be for her. And there was no time for thinking anymore. Kathryn lay underneath him, and he doubted he could stop now for a red alert. He freed himself from his pants, unwilling to part from her long enough to remove them. Spirits, he was already trembling and on the verge of coming. He forced himself to slow down, stroking her thighs, higher up to her center. He rested his head on her belly, and her hands were in his hair once more, lightly holding him with no attempt to guide him.
Briefly he dropped his head to lick her, and her surprised exclamation, the tightening of her thighs about his head, and her strong taste were nearly enough to bring him off, with no touching and no movement. The power of his imagination and the thought of her pleasure were sharp. He rubbed his open mouth over her sex, tasting her, using his tongue, finding her most sensitive places, pushing a finger inside to feel all that heat and moisture.
Her orgasm was unexpected. Chakotay hadn't thought she was that close, hadn't realized she was as aroused as he, but the delight he felt was sharp. Her spasms around his finger, the wave of thick liquid that he tasted made him ache even more. He raised up and shifted off the couch, so that he was on his knees in front of her. Lifting her hips, he positioned himself, and drove home with one thrust. Her surprised exclamation, a sharp grunt after the small mumbles of pleasure she had made before made him pause. She lay back, her thighs parted around his hips, her breasts flattened on her chest, half covered by her top that neither of them had removed.
The clench of her inner muscles around him was like a fist; they fit together well, as he knew they would. She raised herself up on her elbows, looking down over her body to where they fused. Coffee and cream, her skin and his, wiry black and softer brown hair mingling together. He started to move, taking her small gasps as his cues, angling for deep penetration, so deep, so soft, ah they were perfection together. He tried to hold back and let her get to her peak a second time, but he was too close, the culmination of his hopes too overpowering. A few more thrusts and he was coming, feeling the unbearable tightness in his testicles just before his release, and then finally, he felt the wetness flood out of him.
He lay over her like a blanket for long moments. Then she shifted, pushing him to one side. She wriggled out from underneath him and he saw the wetness on her inner thighs, her disarranged hair and the softness in her eyes. She pulled him up and embraced him, slipping her arms around his waist.
"Maybe we should get out of these clothes and go to bed," she said wryly.
He hoped he was included in that invitation; then as he had always imagined, she turned to him, and took his hand entwining it firmly in hers. "Come to bed with me, Chakotay."
He hadn't realized he had seriously doubted the invitation until the wave of relief washed over him. Inside the bedroom, he slowly removed the rest of her clothes, running his hands over each new piece of skin as it was revealed. She seemed comfortable in her own body, standing before him naked, a slight smile on her face. He grasped her hands, and placed them on his chest, encouraging her wordlessly to remove his clothing. She complied, slipping the buttons on his shirt, touching his skin as soon as it was exposed, gliding her hands down over his ribs to his waist, pushing down his unbuttoned pants so that they fell to his feet. Swiftly he shed his boots and trousers, and returned to stand before her, letting her continue her explorations.
With questing fingers, she walked over his body, exploring each small area -- the web between his fingers, the ball of his thumb, the soft skin of his inner wrist, the sparse hairs on his forearms. He wriggled slightly when she reached his armpit, moaned into her hair as she feathered around his ear, and swelled greedily into her hand, when finally she cupped his sex, running heated fingers along its length. Her explorations were tentative, as if she had never done this before -- impossible of course, he knew of her Alpha Quadrant lovers, he knew too of her infrequent Delta Quadrant trysts, although he guessed that she thought she had hidden them well. He pushed himself into her hand, hardening against her fingers, and his hands recommenced their own journeys over her body.
She was as soft and lean as he had imagined; the skin smooth over long muscles, but the small imperfections that marked her made her his Kathryn. A freckle, a small mole, raised and brown, an indentation from an old wound. When they lay on the bed, he explored her with his mouth as well as fingers, crouching between her legs once more to pleasure her with his tongue, as he already knew she liked. He hoped she would take his cock in her mouth, but although she explored his groin, she avoided taking him between her lips. But it was all so new, so wonderful, that he decided that it was good they had new enjoyments to look forward to.
When he finally pushed inside her a second time -- a more gentle union than the first -- she moaned, a breathy little sound of encouragement, and started to move with him, undulating her hips, wrapping her legs tightly around him. He moved faster, harder, dampness on his skin, liquid heat around his cock, feeling the small contractions as she clenched and released around him, then the deeper rippling spasms as she came.
Her mouth mumbled words into his shoulder, what he didn't know, but in his head they were words of love and commitment and that thought was enough to send him tumbling over the edge. A few deep, jagged thrusts and he came in a heated gush, pushing himself inside her, feeling the wetness within, the dampness without.
He slept with her in his arms, her head on her shoulder, one of her arms lying over his belly. It twitched slightly as she relaxed, her breathing slowing. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard her mumble into his chest. "So much pleasure, so much joy."
***
He awoke with the disorientation that being in a strange bed brings, before he remembered. He raised his head, looking for Kathryn, and found her sitting up in bed next to him, watching the stars out of the viewport. He raised himself up to kiss her, fitting his sticky sleep mouth to hers.
"Good morning, my lover," he murmured against her lips, and shifted to pull her down, aligning her body with his. His morning erection was strong against her belly.
"Chakotay," she said. Her voice was roughened. He grinned inwardly, so this was what she sounded like in the morning, sleep in her voice, the bloom on loving on her skin. The first morning of many, he swore to himself.
"Chakotay," she repeated, more urgently.
"Yes, love?" He kissed her again, just because he could.
"I wish to thank you for your participation in our cultural exchange. The Arlade will grant Voyager safe passage through their space in return. Your captain is unharmed although she will need to sleep for several hours. The process of sharing pleasure is a draining one for the host." Kathryn's body next to him slumped down, a deadweight against his chest.
Alarmed, he rolled her over. She appeared to be in a deep slumber, a small smile on her lips. "Wait," he said hoarsely. "What do you mean? If you're not Kathryn, who are you?"
A small glowing spherical shape materialized, coalescing slowly in the air. A voice seemed to resonate in his head, although no words were spoken. "I am Tourin, of the Arlade. We have all the information we need on human pleasures. We release you from further obligation." The sphere started to fade.
"Wait, please wait." A fine tremor was running through his muscles and he was chilled with the implications of what had happened. And very angry. "Who gave you permission to do this? In my culture, you've committed one of the worst sort of violations there is, taking over someone's body without their consent." And the thought of what he had done, inadvertently to Kathryn, was already a thick knot of misery in his stomach. He forced that thought down, he knew it would return to haunt him, but now he had to know more.
"Your captain gave her consent. She agreed to the mindtouch."
"She agreed for you to experience the taste of caramel brownies!" Chakotay exploded, "Not for you to experience human lovemaking.
The sphere lost a little of its definition. "The Arlade do not force anyone to do anything they would not do if they were in full control. We recognize the boundaries, limitations and repressions of a species. What your captain did under the mindtouch was nothing that she did not want to do."
"But you don't understand." Chakotay's anger faded briefly in the face of his own self-loathing. "She and I, we've never made love before. She wouldn't allow it, and you've forced her. In our culture, it's called rape, and it's a serious crime. You've made me rape the woman I love." He closed his eyes in shame as another wave of self-hatred swept over him.
"No, Chakotay. We understand the definition of what you define as 'rape', and the pleasure of last night does not fit that criteria. Your captain wanted to 'make love' with you. A quaint expression, but very fitting. Our own laws expressly prohibit forcing anyone to do anything they do not enjoy during the mindtouch. You may be sure that anything you did together was with her consent."
"Then if she wanted it, why didn't she make love with me before now? Explain that." The anger was back.
The alien voice was gentle, sympathetic. "Sometimes the mindtouch releases inhibitions, allows that which was wanted but suppressed. This maybe the case with your captain. Tell me, does she normally eat so freely of your wonderful food?"
Chakotay thought back to Kathryn eating ravenously the night before. His gaze moved the woman curled up in the bed, amid the tangled sheets where he'd loved her so thoroughly. "No," he whispered. "She doesn't." He should have realized that something was wrong then. He should have noticed Kathryn's behavior and taken her off to the doctor, he should never have slept with her. He could no longer think of it as making love.
"She will sleep now. And she will remember her experiences." The alien light faded and was gone, leaving Chakotay alone with a sleeping Kathryn, and his own thoughts.
In spite of the alien's reassurances that he hadn't forced her to do anything she wouldn't have wanted, the knot of guilt still clenched his stomach. But the curl of anger, directed at the Alarde, grew insidiously. He may not have violated Kathryn, but she -- they -- had indeed been violated, and in the worst possible way. He had been as used as she. Even if Kathryn was able to see what happened in that light, even if she was able to look at him without feeling that he, not the Alarde, had taken advantage of her, he seriously doubted that she would take what the fates had dealt them and move on, with him. She would shut him out, he thought, close herself off from him, never let him near to her again. Their friendly hugs would be a thing of the past. Dinners together, time on the holodeck - all gone. The Arlade had succeeded where the Borg had failed, and managed to drive an irrevocable wedge between them.
"Oh, Kathryn." A fresh wave of grief washed through him as he realized he hadn't told her he loved her. Any such declaration now, coming as it did when she was recovered, would be interpreted as a way of justifying his actions after the event. "I love you," he whispered. She wouldn't hear him, she was sound asleep, but he had to say it.
He dressed and left. With Kathryn sleeping, he had to take the bridge. At least he could still do that for her.
***
Kathryn didn't appear on the bridge all day, and for that he was grateful. He had no idea what he would say to her or how to behave when next he saw her. He notified the doctor about the mindtouch - neglecting to say exactly what pleasure the Arlade had experienced with Kathryn, although he thought that the doctor would be able to detect recent sexual activity when he monitored her condition. And if the doctor knew that it had happened, the 'who' it had happened with was only a few tricorder readings away.
He spent alpha shift in the captain's chair, growling at anyone who tried to make conversation. He stared unseeingly out of the front viewscreen as Tom navigated Voyager through Arlade space. The refrain from last night ran through his head in a mocking rhythm. 'Mine, she's not mine, she never was mine. She doesn't love me, she doesn't want me, she doesn't need me. Hers, I'm hers, I'm always hers. I'll always love her, I'll always want her, I'll always need her.'
His emotions were turbulent. Guilt gave way to anger, which mutated to sorrow. What should have been beautiful -- their first time together, the acceptance of love, maybe the beginning of a relationship, was sullied. In a hopeless black moment, he wondered if Kathryn had known this would happen, and had used the Arlade to give her a single night with him, something that she could never take by herself. But he knew she wouldn't do that. She was not one to shrink from the truth; and if the truth happened to be that she loved her first officer, then she would surely accept that, and work him -- them -- into her life.
At the end of the shift he turned the chair over to Tuvok with great relief. Tuvok seemed recovered, his weariness of the previous evening was gone. Briefly, he wondered about confiding in the Vulcan -- Tuvok had undergone the mindtouch as well -- but the rawness of the betrayal and the Arlade's deception was still too fresh. Instead, he returned to his quarters.
He was expecting Kathryn's call; of course she would call, and would want to discuss what had happened. If he was lucky, he hoped that she would simply reset their friendship back onto its previous even keel. Otherwise, he thought she would freeze him out. Put him on formal report even. If she did that, he would not resist. Deep in his gut he was horrified at his own actions. His heart had overruled his head last night -- if he had been thinking coherently, he would surely have recognized her abnormal behavior.
He lay on his bunk, his eyes closed, and let the memories of their joining wash over him. It hadn't been perfect - he had come too soon, hadn't lasted long enough -- but oh, how sweet it had been. He remembered the languid look of pleasure in her eyes. He had pleased her, that he knew, but it wasn't enough.
"Janeway to Chakotay." The call roused him from his reverie.
"Yes, Captain." Her voice was calm and smooth, no hint of her state of mind in its tones.
"Chakotay, I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner?" Now a warm lilt to her voice, and the use of his name, rather than his rank meant that the summons wasn't for official business. Her cheerfulness surprised him, he had expected the captain's cool to permeate her voice. For a heartbeat he thought about refusing -- his thoughts were still chaotic, and he wanted time to compose himself before he saw her. He fumbled for an excuse, his mind momentarily blank.
"Please don't avoid me, Chakotay." The link closed.
He closed his eyes in mortification, she had sensed his hesitation. Briefly, he wondered at her upbeat tones. Surely she had to be as uncomfortable about this as he? Still, he didn't have to face her tonight. He went into his sleeping quarters and changed into an old pair of sweat pants and a baggy tee-shirt. Comfort clothes, ones he wore when no one would see him. Tonight he would be alone with his thoughts and his memories of their lovemaking, which would dance their undulating patterns behind his closed eyelids, as they had last night, and as he thought they would for every night that he lived.
The door chime startled him. He wasn't expecting anyone, and had engaged the privacy lock earlier. There was only one person who would dare to disturb him. He considered ignoring the chime, then he took two steps towards the door. Might as well get this over with, let her break his heart again as she explained away their night, and then moved on in her life without him. As he vacillated, the door slid open.
Kathryn walked into the room. She was in casual clothes, a soft tunic and some clinging leggings. Her feet were bare. At least that was a good sign. If she intended reprimanding him, she would surely have been in uniform. She stopped inside the door and regarded him.
He found he could barely meet her gaze. The bile was thick in the back of the throat as he thought about all he now stood to lose.
She smiled at him. Not the captain's official smile, but Kathryn's warm, wide one, one that reached her eyes. "How are you?" she said. "I missed you today."
So her agenda was to pretend it had never happened. The easiest option for both of them, but he didn't think he could live with the guilt and uncertainty of not knowing how much he had hurt her.
"You don't have to pretend, Captain." He opted for the formal. "I have no defense for my actions. At the time, I thought you had come to me of your own free will, but I should have recognized the signs. You don't behave like that under normal circumstances." His mouth twisted. "I accept full responsibility, and whatever reprimand or punishment you see fit."
He turned away from her, unable to face her anymore. To think that it had come down to this, one night of loving and a formal reprimand.
She was next to him, taking his arm. He stared at her fingers curling tightly over his bare forearm. Even now the touch provoked his memories of their skins together. "Chakotay, listen to me. You did nothing wrong. The blame, if there is to be any between us, is mine. Although," and her mouth twisted self-depreciatingly, "I like to think of it as a gift. The Arlade mindtouch brought down my barriers and allowed us to be together. I know you wanted that too, you showed me very clearly the other night."
"No," he choked. "You had no control over your actions -- if you had we would never have done that -- you were effectively forced. And we were played for fools, both of us, by the Arlade."
She was silent, and he wrenched his arm away, unable to stand even her light touch.
"Tourin didn't lie," she said eventually. "He told you the next morning, that the Arlade only allow the mindtouch to experience things that the subjects want themselves. If I didn't want to make love with you," and she stressed her choice of words, "then Tourin would never have forced me. But the decision was taken away from both of us. We should have had the right to consciously choose, Chakotay."
"Did you know what would happen in advance?" he asked.
"No," she admitted, "and if I did, then I probably wouldn't have allowed it at this time. No, Chakotay,listen to me," she grabbed his arm again as he turned away from her, eyes closing in pain at hearing that she wouldn't have chosen him otherwise.
They stood frozen for long moments, then she spoke. Her words were slow, and seemed to be dragged up. "I love you. I've loved you for a very long time, but I could never tell you. But now the Arlade have rather forced the issue. It's out in the open, and nothing or nobody can undo these words or those events. Last night was... wonderful. And I want to go forward together from this point in time, with you as my lover, in my bed, and in my heart."
He choked, hearing her words, but it still wasn't right. "Our first night together and it wasn't by our choosing. I find it difficult to move beyond that right now."
"I love you," she said again, and the simple pleasure ripped through him when he heard her say the words again. But the doubts remained.
"If not for the Arlade, we may never have been lovers at all," he said harshly, "we would have made it all the way back to the Alpha Quadrant, each taking transient lovers. I know about Kashyk, about those others you took to your bed..."
"And I know about Riley, even about Kellin -- you weren't the only one to write yourself a letter then -- and yes, I know about those on the crew you've slept with. But it doesn't matter. Don't you see, Chakotay? However it's happened, we're lovers now. And I'm sure you know the reason that you and I could never let it happen before."
"Protocol," he spat the word out. "Dammed protocol."
"No. Not that. Because you and I..." she hesitated, then plunged ahead. "We could never be just lovers. We could never have 'just sex' without involving our hearts. And that's the difference. But that's changed now. I'm ready to commit to you, however you want, no matter how binding." She stepped close to him again. "Don't blame yourself over this. Think about what I've said. And when you're ready, I'll be waiting for you."
She raised up on her toes, kissed him swiftly and hotly on the lips, then withdrew. "You've waited five years. I think I can wait a little longer."
And she was gone.
Chakotay touched careful fingers to his lips. She had kissed him. He didn't let himself think about that too hard. It wasn't the way he envisaged their relationship beginning, but, however it had happened, they were lovers now. And, miraculously, Kathryn seemed able to embrace that, and move on -- with him. He bowed his head for a moment, letting the fact that she loved him seep into his soul. He would be ready, he would go to her -- and soon. But not with anger in his heart. He rose, and moving to the drawer of his bureau he pulled out his medicine bundle. Maybe his spirit guide would be able to help him find peace within himself and forgiveness for the Alarde.
***
Kathryn invited him for dinner the following night. She served him wine and replicated mushroom risotto. After dinner, she crossed back to the replicator.
"I've programmed chocolate mousse," she said. "It brings back memories for me." She gave him a long look from under lowered lashes, making sure he couldn't miss her meaning. Chocolate mousse, one of the vicarious pleasures of the Arlade. The last pleasure before she seduced him. The memory of that night welled up in him, jolting him into instant arousal. It had been so good, finally so right. And then so wrong.
"It can be so right again, Chakotay." She seemed to read his mind. She curled up on the floor in front of him, where he sat on the couch, and rested her head on his lap. One hand came up to his thigh. "It's your choice."
He stroked her hair softly, absorbing her words. For a few minutes they sat like that. The only sound in the room was the soft tide of her breath, the low lights gave a peaceful serene atmosphere to her otherwise sterile quarters. Chakotay sat, letting the quiet pleasure of her company seep into him and surround him. Kathryn sighed, a soft sound, muted by the material of his pants.
"I love you." She said the words quietly, and with utter conviction. "I hope one day soon you can tell me the same thing."
Her words settled slowly into his heart. It was so right, this was what he had wanted for so long. The knowledge spread out through his mind, as a flower unfurls to the sun. For a long minute he was silent, savoring his acceptance that this was what would be.
"Kathryn." He said her name quietly, but something in his tone, the intensity maybe, that had been missing before made her look up at him. Her heart was in her eyes. When he was sure she could see, watch his lips form the words, he said deliberately, "I love you. So much."
Her smile grew slowly. "Then I think we're wasting too much time," she murmured. "I've been wanting to show you that I'm not always as passive as I was before. The Arlade were accepting of pleasure rather than giving."
He had wondered. Mirroring her gesture of the first time, he stood and offered her his hand.
Kathryn made love to him that night, for the first time. "Let me," she whispered. "I want to undress you." And she did, deliberately and slowly. Piece by piece his clothing dropped to the floor, until he was needy and naked in front of her. Her fingertips crawled over his skin, feathering lightly, lingering when he shuddered in helpless pleasure, moving on slowly at other times. She dropped to her knees in front of him to take him in her mouth, grasping his buttocks, pulling him closer, nibbling delicately up his shaft before engulfing him. He gazed down at her through half closed eyes, watching her pleasuring him, and the moment was instantly too much, and he came, his knees buckling as he spurted into her mouth.
She pushed him back on the bed, and straddled him, her clothed body pressing down lightly on his groin. "Don't go to sleep on me, Chakotay." Her tones were husky, redolent with bedroom promises. "We're only just beginning."
His hands crept up to the waistband of her pants, and he undid them, pushing them down enough so that he could see practical panties and the top of her thatch of dense brown pubic hair. "I'm not going anywhere." And as he said it, the words seemed a vow, a prophetic statement that he fully intended to bring to fruition.
She smiled slowly, leaning forward to kiss him. He tasted the lingering remains of himself in her mouth, salt and bitter, and he thought of tasting his spend mixed in with hers, thought of coming hard within her, then spreading her flushed cleft wide to taste the sticky profusion of the two of them mingled together. Despite how soon it was after his climax, the image in his mind made his cock twitch in anticipation, not hard yet, but a slight swell of anticipation.
She pressed down on his groin. "Aren't you going to undress me?"
"I'll watch." And he lay and watched her through slitted eyes, as she shed her clothing with minimum fuss and maximum grace, a practical, unselfconscious readying of herself for his loving. He rose as she bent forward to remove her boots, and pushed her gently down so that she arched over the bed. Her hair fell forward hiding her face, and he stroked the curve of her back, the small prominences of spine and the indentation at the top of her buttocks, insinuating his hand lower, down and around until he could feel her, creamy hot and slick against his hand.
She moved her hips slightly, encouraging his renewed erection to drop down between her legs.
"Like this?" he asked, and pressed forward slightly so that the head of his cock slipped inside her.
"Like that," she agreed, and reached back to pull him towards her.
The penetration was so deep, the connection so intense, that in spite of his last precipitous release he had to fight not to come. Instead he concentrated on her, insinuating a finger around to find her clit, stroking with long, soft movements so that the shudders started . And when she tightened around him, he started to thrust, filling her, finding the urgency was gone yet the loving remained.
He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, feeling the soft skin of her back against his chest, the firmness of her buttocks against his groin, and the hot creaminess in his hand. And she came quickly in a soft murmur of sound, and he let go of his restraint and drove himself to a second peak, sticky white heat inside her.
Later, much later, they lay drowsily together in a tangle of damp limbs. He stroked her breast idly, rejoicing in his ability to touch her freely.
"So much pleasure," she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. "So much joy."
He kissed her hair, and the memory of the last time she had whispered those words to him flitted through his mind. He remembered his joy, and then the crashing anger and heartbreak that had followed. This time, he knew, it would be different.
And so he wove the words of love he hadn't managed to say the previous time into a tapestry of joy and pleasure, a simple enduring design, entwining their lives together. And when she accepted his gift of words, and repeated them back to him, then he knew that there was no going back.
"A pity," she mused, much later, in the middle of the night when they lay together sticky and replete once more. "Such a pity that the Alarde never experienced the full depth and breadth of lovemaking."
His lips curved quietly in the dark, and his hand slid possessively over her hip. "Hmmm?"
She rolled over so that she was draped over his chest. A finger reached out and stroked gently over his lips. "They never experienced this," she said. "The afterglow. Lying here, knowing you love me, the quiet satisfaction that comes with the certainty that we'll have this for the rest of our lives."
He clasped her to him, his heart swelling as he took in her words. "You're right," he said. "They missed the sweetest, simplest pleasure of them all."
FIN
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