Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything except the hot springs and they are working on that.
Rated NC-17 for fairly general sexual description. There's consensual sex, but it's not as bump and grind as some. Kids, go away now.
A couple of hours later, when all the stars lay brilliantly across the sky, they went back to the pools, this time wending their way up to the highest and hottest pool. This pool was the smallest, barely big enough for two people, and they were in constant contact with each other, heated skin sliding through the water, brushing and intertwining.
Kathryn got out of the pool to open the remaining bottle of Tom's wine and Chakotay studied her through half-closed eyes. Seeing her like this, his thoughts drifted back to the one time when the tension had nearly run away with them, only Kathryn had returned to sanity at the last moment. That day, nearly four years ago, when they had received the messages from home. She had received one from Mark, saying he was marrying some one else.
He had hugged her for comfort, but she had turned in his arms, seeking his mouth, as comfort, as reassurance, maybe just because she realized there was less holding them back now.
The kiss had escalated, mouths hot and seeking, tongues entangling, hot panting breath. He had thrust a thigh between hers until she was straddling it, rubbing herself against his leg, his groin, as he rubbed her nipples through her uniform. He was reaching for the clasp, she was clutching his buttocks when the door chime of the ready room had brought them back to reality. She had torn herself away from him, eyes bright, mouth bruised and trembling. She had smoothed her hair and bade the crewman enter, Tuvok with a PADD as he recollected. He had had to sit at her desk to hide his rampant erection, obvious through his uniform.
Later, they had both rationalized the moment, agreed it was a mistake, and to a greater or lesser extent, pushed it out of their minds, reverting surprisingly easily to the warm, huggy friendship they shared.
Back from his reverie, Chakotay realized with a start that Kathryn was staring at him quizzically, a glass of wine extended to him. His eyes refocused slowly and he accepted the wine. He was painfully aware his semi-engorged state had grown to nearly a full erection. He moved slightly away as Kathryn settled against him. She seemed not to notice his discomfort and settled more fully against him, as was her wont, buttocks pressing into his hip. She grabbed his free hand and brought it around her shoulders, where it settled very close to her breast.
Spirits, did she know what she was doing? He groaned quietly, as she wriggled her bottom against him, probably trying to find a comfortable spot on the smooth rock of the pool. He was barely listening to what she was saying, something about the night and the stars, as he desperately tried to bury his excitement.
She turned to him, her eyes glittering, was it the wine?
"Chakotay," she whispered, "is something wrong?"
He realized he had closed his eyes, to avoid seeing her so close.
"No," he said, "I'm just a little warm. Shall we go back to the lodge?"
She moved away and climbed out of the pool. They dried themselves with the fluffy towels -- he being careful to keep turned away from her so she would not see his erection -- pulled on their loose, light clothing and walked back to the lodge.
Inside the lodge, she settled on the large floor and pulled him down next to her. He had recovered his equilibrium somewhat and they sprawled, her head on his chest, listening to the night sounds through the open window. His arm was around her, hand absently stroking her arm. It was like a hundred other nights in her quarters, except for the singing in his blood, his heightened awareness of her. He wondered if she felt it too. He wanted more.
She settled her head more firmly on his chest, turning her head briefly to press her lips against the exposed skin at his throat. Her arm settled around his waist, pushing aside his shirt to stroke the soft skin of his waist.
Chakotay responded slowly, this was new territory for them, and he wanted to make sure he was not misinterpreting her message. His hand began to stroke slowly down her arm, to the wrist, where he explored the inner surface with his fingers, before tracing lightly up her arm again. He pressed a kiss on her hair, bringing his hand up to tangle his fingers in it, lightly massaging her scalp. She sighed and raised her chin to look him in the eye.
"Tell me if you don't want this," she whispered before she lowered her lips to his in a soft kiss.
The kiss clung and lingered, unlike their normal swift, chaste kisses. She traced his lips with her tongue, before slipping it shyly inside.
Neither of them spoke, as they gradually, and oh so slowly explored each other with lips, tongues, and questing fingers. There was no hurry, they were content to trace a neck, an earlobe, suckle on a finger tip, learn the bump of a collarbone. After an eternity he pushed her up, and hooking his fingers under the hem of her dress started to raise it slowly, all the while looking in her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction.
"Tell me if you don't want this," he whispered her words back to her.
She smiled, and moved so he could pull the cotton dress over her head, leaving her as naked as she had been in the spring earlier. He pulled his own shirt and pants off and they lay together, resuming their gentle explorations.
A mouth on a nipple, suckling, a tongue laving down a flat belly, fingers tangling in pubic hair. And hands everywhere, slow, feeling, smoothing, learning, learning the lessons they would need for a lifetime together. It seemed like hours before his mouth covered her sex, before his fingers slid slowly inside her, before her mouth covered his penis licking his fluid from the tip. It seemed like a lifetime before finally, he slid quietly inside her.
"Kathryn," he whispered.
"Chakotay," she answered just as quietly.
They lay together on the soft cushions, not moving, content just to savor the moment.
In his dreams, of which there had been many, when he had thought about this moment their coming together was always a cataclysm of feelings, lust, emotion, and tears. It was always uncontrolled and passionate as he imagined them finally breaking the restraints of their control. The time in her ready room when indeed, they had been close to such a happening had strengthened the feeling that they would be explosive, not tender, together. He had never imagined such a gentle, peaceful union, as if they had been lovers for years rather than just now, for the first time.
Slowly, he started to move, she continued to caress him, his face, his hair, the tears that slid from his eyes. He moved faster, his face buried in her neck, as with a small sigh, she came, clenching around him. He came too, in the joy of her release, emptying himself inside her.
They lay in each other's arms, unwilling to let go. There were no words of love, no passionate declarations, they had been said years before, they were sustained by the unspoken love they knew they had. There was no hesitation, no questions of commitment, no wondering if this would be pushed aside the next day, the next week, back on the ship. Both of them knew, without words, that finally they had come home. Home to each other's love.
Feedback? Please. Shayenne
© Shayenne, August 2000 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.