Disclaimer: All Paramounts. Not mine. Pity.
An immediately post 'Shattered' story. Because that was their last chance in canon, and I don't want them to blow it. For Mary S. and the Wolverhampton train that always runs on time... ;-)
Rated NC-17
Janeway knew that something was different, but it took her a few days to put her finger on it. Chakotay was acting like he was keeping a secret. He had admitted as much to her over dinner in her quarters. A friendly dinner that had been interrupted for yet another ship's crisis. As the energy surge approached them, Chakotay had reprogrammed the deflector dish to absorb the bolt, a seemingly illogical decision. The deflector had burned out, much to B'Elanna's annoyance, and Chakotay had returned to the bridge with an unfathomable expression on his face and suggested they resume their interrupted dinner. She had probed, pried and tried to tease out of him what had happened, but he was as immutable as stone.
"Temporal prime directive," was all he would say, and eventually she let the matter drop.
But now she knew there was more to it than he was saying. Something or someone in his past or future had changed her perfect first officer. The professional, friendly demeanor he had worn like a cloak over the last few years was stripped away, and in its place was the Chakotay she had known at the start of their journey. The concerned and caring asexual friend was gone, replaced by a compelling man whose every calculated touch screamed of bedroom secrets to be uncovered. Seduction and sex, sweet and deep. And whose darkly secretive eyes held the knowledge of a time when they would be lovers. Or had been lovers, maybe.
When she thought back, trying to sift through the blur of duty shifts, off duty dinners and holodeck time, trying to pinpoint that moment in time when the first officer had disappeared and the man whose eyes promised pleasure appeared, it came down to that dinner. The deflector dish. When she couldn't wheedle the story behind his actions out of him, she started to watch him, surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye. And the inevitable happened. In watching him, cataloging his actions and his touches, she started to notice once again the small things about him that had so attracted her to him at the start. The play of his long bronze fingers as he punched buttons on his console. The soft looking skin on the back of his neck. The way his smile washed over his face like a sunrise, and the way he totally focussed on her when they talked. His lithe, quiet way of walking, so graceful for such a big man. The hand he placed on the small of her back as he escorted her into the turbolift, fingers spread over her uniform. And in relearning the man, the one she had pushed aside to replace with the first officer, she fell in love all over again.
And she wasn't alone in that
Chakotay kept his secret, but she knew that it involved her, as well as him. And the two of them together. She resumed the gentle flirting that had always characterized their relationship in the early years, allowing her simmering attraction to show in brief flashes that he couldn't help but be aware of. Her affectionate 'captain's touches' took on a new, lingering quality, and she let herself touch his leg, let gentle fingers drift down his spine or brush his cheek. More than the casual pats of arm and shoulder, more than reassurance or friendship.
He noticed. He couldn't not. The heat of promise grew in his eyes and he responded in kind, sitting too close to her on the couch after their dinners together. Pressing himself up against her in the guise of assistance when they went rock climbing on the holodeck, so close that she could feel his breath on her neck, his muscled thigh pushed against hers, as he worked to free their harnesses that he had so artfully, and so deliberately, tangled together.
The flirting, the unspoken acknowledgement of want and need was there, but neither of them did anything about it. She was tempted to reach up and kiss him as he pressed his thigh against hers on the couch after dinner. Fantasized about overriding the lock on his quarters and stealing in late at night, to cross like a wraith to his bed, pull the covers down and wake him from sleep by taking him in her mouth. But she waited, feeling that he would make a move and curious as to what he would do.
Kathryn wanted to be seduced. In her infrequent sexual encounters in the Delta Quadrant, she had been the agressor; persuading a morally straitlaced hologram, seducing Kashyk into her bed, and initiating the elaborate courtship rituals on Klamath, a planet they spent shore leave on, so that she could take some sexual satisfaction with one of their males for a few glorious days. So, she waited, increasing the flirting, making sure that Chakotay couldn't mistake the willingness in her eyes.
But still he kept the secret of what had caused his surety to himself. And he didn't make a move. Just as it got to the point where she was ready, once again, to be the aggressor, they came to Tyee. A friendly, civilized planet, with warp technology and an open door policy with regard to meeting new races. Their cities were modern marvels, with a cultural diversity equal to the Federation's. Chakotay, of course, was in charge of drawing up the rosters for shore leave.
Kathryn was in her ready room, studying the plan of the largest city, trying to decide where to spend her four days leave, when the chime rang. She called for entry, and Chakotay entered, a padd in his hand.
"Shore leave rosters, Captain." He saw the terminal display. "Thinking of spending yours in Colestine?"
"Yes. They have some good art galleries, fine dining..." His finger over her lips stopped what she was saying. He was leaning over the desk, his eyes on her face. "Kathryn, our leave coincides, and I've already made the arrangements." His thumb stroked down over the side of her cheek. "All the arrangements," he added quietly, his words leaving her in no doubt as to his meaning. The end of the waiting. They would become lovers on Tyee.
Her pulse jumped, then steadied, her breath suddenly dragging in her lungs with the implications. She didn't pretend to miss his meaning, the time for games was past. "It can't come soon enough for me," she said, and it was his turn to catch his breath. He moved forward and she thought he was going to kiss her. She found she was leaning forward, anticipating that first touch. The butterflies in her stomach leaped and spiraled at the thought.
He was so close. If she moved forward a little, if he angled his head just so, if she raised up enough... He moved back, leaving the bulk of the desk between them. "Me neither, Kathryn," he said. "I've waited a long time."
"So have I." She spoke softly, but he heard, and turned on his heel to leave, swiftly as if he didn't trust himself.
She saw the tenting of his uniform and hoped nobody on the bridge was paying close attention.
Two days to wait. Kathryn wondered if she would survive the time. Ironic, really. She had lived with him by her side for seven years, through friendship, animosity, and rare sweet moments of almost something more. But two days stretched for an eternity. She fantasized about what he would be like. There was no doubt in her mind it would be good. His everyday sensuality hinted of an imaginative and considerate lover. She envisaged his head between her legs, those golden hands on her breasts, imagined the shape and curve of his genitalia, wondered what he would taste like, his salt, his sweat.
"Captain."
She returned from her reverie to find Chakotay staring at her across the center console. His amused and heated expression said that he knew exactly what she was thinking about.
"Captain," he repeated. "Mr. Paris is requesting to be excused. The Doctor requires him in sickbay."
She hoped her expression was more composed than she was. "Certainly, Tom." Sickbay. Her train of thought ran away with her -- contraceptive boosters, she couldn't remember about hers; she hoped Chakotay's were up to date.
He was watching her over the console still. "A month ago," he said quietly.
"What?"
"My booster. I visited the doctor one month and two days ago."
She swallowed hard. The day after the incident with the deflector dish. Whatever he had learned in his past... or future... had made him very confident.
He was watching her closely, a small smile twisting the corners of his mouth. "Surely you're not surprised, Kathryn?"
She shook her head mutely, no, she wasn't, and somehow the knowledge that whatever he had learned had made him firm in his pursuit reaffirmed her belief that what they were about to do was right.
"Dinner tonight?"
She found her voice. "Not tonight, Chakotay. I'm playing velocity with Seven." She was hoping the physical exertion would take her mind off the other physical activities that she wanted so badly.
"Tomorrow? The night before our shore leave."
"Definitely. You can cook."
"It will be my pleasure." His wide smile was for her alone.
Kathryn was at fever-pitch when she joined Chakotay for dinner. Velocity hadn't subdued the arousal in her blood, instead it had fueled it, and sleep hadn't come easily for her that night. He seated her with a flourish, serving her a baked tofu dish, subtly flavored with spices. He fielded her questions about their leave with laughing evasions, refusing to be drawn into her traps.
"You'll find out tomorrow," he said. "Relax, Kathryn. Savor the anticipation. We're going to remember this for a very long time. Maybe forever."
She tried, she really tried, but when she went back to her quarters, after promising to meet Chakotay in the transporter room at 1000 hours, she found sleep didn't come easily. She tossed and turned in bed, the slide of the silk nightgown over her sensitized skin an unbearable friction. She sat up and pulled it off, let the warm air of her quarters caress her heated skin, but it wasn't enough. She wanted... in moments of incoherence between sleep and waking the lines were blurred, but she knew exactly what she wanted. Chakotay. She wanted to make love to him, take him into her body, accept him fully into her life.
She hadn't felt this amount of wanting and unbearable need since Justin. Mark was the last true lover with whom she had made love- her Delta Quadrant lovers had been purely expedient-- and with Mark they had simply drifted together one night, talked about it, and decided in a purely rational fashion that they would make love. No, she hadn't felt this keening sense of urgency with Mark, this need for completion. And with Justin, although she had loved him deeply, it was the raw edge of newness and sexual experimentation that had made their lovemaking so intense.
But Chakotay. Ah, the wanting ran deep. It permeated her entire body, saturated her being. And, shot through the unbearable sexual desire, was a deep, true, heartfelt love for him.
In one of her cloudy sleep-fuzzed blurrings of consciousness, her overwrought nerves convinced her that Voyager was under attack. That they were in mortal danger. She was going to die, that Chakotay was too, and they would both die their love unacknowledged, their bodies forever separate. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding as awareness returned. She was in no immediate danger, Chakotay was safe in his bed next door. But it was too much, she wouldn't wait any longer.
She pulled on the nightgown and called for a site to site transport from her quarters to Chakotay's. The transporter room staff would talk, but she didn't care. This wouldn't be some hole-in-the-corner affair. This would be openly and freely expressed. And anyone who didn't like it could go to hell.
She materialized in his living quarters. They were dark, illuminated only by the moving stars outside. She paused for a moment, until she could hear the even tide of his breathing through the open door to his bedroom. She padded on soundless feet over to the doorway and peered in, debating her next move.
Chakotay was lying sprawled on his stomach, his head turned to one side. The sheet was low enough on his hips that she saw he slept naked. The swell of his buttocks was partly revealed by the sheet, enough for her to see the dimple at the base of his spine and the firm curve of flesh. One arm was above his head, stretching the smooth curve of his back, the other dangled off the bed, fingertips brushing the floor.
She studied him, committing him to memory. He looked happy in sleep, the crowsfeet around his eyes softening. He was not young anymore, his body was starting to blur and lose the sleek firmness of youth, but each small imperfection graced him with the stamp of maturity. He was, quite simply, beautiful.
Still she hesitated. The fantasy of lowering his sheet and taking him in her mouth was impossible. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she pulled the nightgown over her head, and naked, crossed over to the bed. She knelt by the side of the bed, level with his head and leaning forward fitted her lips softly to his.
For a suspended moment, he didn't respond. His sleep-slack lips were unresponsive underneath hers, and then his eyes opened. He started to lever himself up, eyes wide as he took in her appearance.
"Kath..." Whatever he was about to say was cut off, as she took advantage of his parted lips to slip her tongue inside his mouth. He allowed the kiss, but reared up, twisting around so that he sat on the bed, his legs outstretched in front of him. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her to him, so close that her breasts were squashed against his chest, his skin agonizingly erotic against her nipples Their tongues dueled wetly as she devoured him. She sucked on his tongue, pushing her mouth so hard against his that she could taste blood, coppery and hot in her mouth. Hers or his, she didn't know. Their teeth grated, she slurped him with abandon, a drowning desperation, not the sweetly romantic first kiss he almost certainly had planned for her. She anchored a hand in his hair, to hold him there, dimly aware that he was fighting her, trying to push her down onto the bed, trying to roll her over. She resisted, swinging a thigh over him, anchoring him in place. The sheet was gone, slipped to the floor in the melee of their frantic movements and she could feel him, hard against her thigh. She shuffled forward to straddle him fully, aware of his hips undulating instinctively beneath her, aware mostly of the pulse of need between her own legs, and the wet slide of her sex over his thigh.
She released his mouth and his head dropped to her breast, and opened over it, sucking hard, a soft bite of teeth against her skin. He supported himself on one hand, the other hand skating down from her breast to burrow between her legs, his thumb pressing against her clitoris, one thick finger pushing up, curling around inside her. She quaked from the sensation, and shuffled forward trying to position him where she needed him most. His thumb press was pushing her up, closer to release, closer to belonging, and she wanted him inside her. She got part way, close enough that her wet sex coated him, so hard, so impossibly hard.
"No, wait," he said, his voice trembling slightly, with the impossibility of holding back maybe, she thought, then thought was gone as he reared up, tried to roll her over. She moved partway, her thighs parting around his hips, so that she was open to him, and their bodies moved closer together, she could feel the blunt head of him cleaving into her, pushing. The angle was wrong, and he pressed too hard, sweat on his face now, his eyes wide, as if he was still cataloging what was happening to him. He tried to complete their roll, holding her tightly, one arm around her shoulders, the other spread wide on her buttocks, keeping their lower bodies together, as he grunted with the frustration of failed penetration.
She didn't let him move on top of her, which would have given him the easy glide inside that he sought. Instead she anchored him to her, tilted her hips slightly, moving up his body, reaching around to hold him in position. He caught on, and the alignment was suddenly so right and he slipped inside her, a sure thrust, deeply, all the way.
The fat slide of penetration alone had her teetering on the brink. He went boneless in her grasp, the earlier desperation muted now that finally, the connection was complete. He moved once, gently, an experimental shallow advance and retreat, a second time, harder, surer and then she was coming, panting into his face, squeezing her eyes shut as she quivered and convulsed around him.
She opened her eyes, stared into his face, watching him, delighting in the feel of his steady thrusts as he built the momentum for his own climax.
"Oh, Kathryn," he said helplessly, as a final push had him spilling himself inside her. He wrapped himself further around her, using a leg to anchor her to him. She moved closer, unwilling for him to move away and arched up to cup his cheek.
"I'm sorry," she said, "did I spoil your plans?"
He gathered her close, so that her head rested on his chest. "You did rather," he said. "I'd planned to woo you slowly by candlelight, remove your clothing, piece by piece and make love to you gently, with all the reverence you inspire."
She shifted, and he slid out of her, and she turned pushing him onto his back, so that she could rest her cheek on his shoulder. "I couldn't wait any longer," she admitted quietly. "I wanted you so much, and I thought, what if something happens and tomorrow never comes."
"Tomorrow will come," he said, "and my plans will still stand. We can take our shore leave and there will be time to love each other slowly."
"There's time now," she said, and slid down his body, to engulf him swiftly in her mouth. She tilted her head so that she could watch him, see his startled delight as she moved her mouth over him, teasing with great deliberateness. He swelled quickly, his hips starting to move with unconscious rhythm, his eyes mere slits in his face as he watched her pleasuring him.
She settled herself between his legs, one finger teasing, seeking the ridge behind his scrotum, tickling, then pressing more firmly at his groan. His hands came down to tangle in her hair, to hold her there, although his vocal delight was more than enough reason to remain. And then, too soon, his hands were pushing her away, trying to stop her.
"Stop," he gasped, "I'm going to..."
And she redoubled her efforts, moving her fingers to stroke his shaft, so that he spurted, hot and acrid in her mouth. He hissed as she deliberately licked him clean, moving her tongue carefully over his sensitized flesh, then sat up, pulling her up with him.
His expression was one of pure delight. "You're incredible," he breathed. "Thank you."
She kissed him stickily, then moved away so that he could see her face and not doubt the sincerity of her words. "I love you. I don't think I told you earlier."
"I know you do," he said. "but that doesn't mean you can stop telling me."
So she told him again, repeatedly, punctuating each declaration with soft kisses, just to see the happiness in his eyes. His eyes were closing, the better to absorb her words. But just when she thought he had slid into sleep, he moved swiftly, flipping her onto her back, crouching between her legs, spreading her thighs, so wide that the inner muscles ached slightly. She raised up on her elbows to watch him, sure of his intent.
His mouth came down and vibrated on her belly. "I love you too," he said. The words tickled her skin. "So much." His mouth moved lower, so that his chin brushed through her sodden curls, lower again so that he was open mouthed against her sex.
As he had done earlier, she held his head, directing his mouth and tongue to where she most wanted them, crying out a little as he lapped and sucked, finding the place she wanted, and then flickering with steady intent, harder sucklings until she came with an incoherent shout. He lay between her legs, resting his head on her belly, and she reached down to stroke his neck and shoulders. He let her float down from the pleasure he had given her, before levering himself up to crouch over her. He was turgid and thickened, semi-erect. She reached down to stroke him, watching the dark-skinned shaft swell in her hands.
"You've drained me," he whispered, but let her position him between her legs, the engorged tip teasing her folds. They moved together one more time, slow movements, the gentle exploratory coupling she had always envisaged with him. A sweet fusion of sexes, sticky mouths and whispered incantations of love. They came together, a clench and turnover of feeling, not the wild explosions of before, more a gentle synchronicity of love.
"I wonder if we could spend our shore leave here in your quarters," she mused, tangled up with him on the twisted sheets.
He wrapped a solid thigh over hers. "And waste all my planning? No, Kathryn. Tomorrow is for love and seduction."
"Like tonight." She turned her head to kiss his chest. "Can you tell me now? What was it about that night with the deflector dish that made you change? You became confident again, sure that we would be lovers."
"I was. I wondered if you would connect it back to that night."
"You were out of temporal sync, weren't you? I guessed that you must have gone forward to a time when we were lovers, or back to an alternate time line. Which was it?" She stroked a loving hand over his hard chest, delighting in the freedom to touch him.
"Neither." He smiled at her questioning expression. "I have no proof for you, Kathryn. But you are right. I traveled back, met you seven years ago, just as Voyager was getting ready to chase me into the badlands. And the chemistry between us, was enough to rekindle what we had both let slip. The awareness between us. Be honest with me -- did you always think that someday we would come to this?"
"I hoped it." She made the admission quietly. "I've loved you for a long time, but you're right. The wanting and the knowledge of that became buried in our friendship. I don't want to lose that closeness we forged as friends, now that we are so much more."
"We won't," he said. "How could we? Tomorrow we'll work the two parts together, the friends and the lovers, and we'll build a stronger whole."
"And you'll seduce me." She smiled at him, delighting in the love showing clearly in his eyes.
"And then, you can seduce me."
FIN
Feedback? Please. Shayenne
© Shayenne, November 2000 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.