Rated: NC-17
By: Tessa
Disclaimer:
Paramount owns ‘em. Darn.
Summary: Kathryn gets the flu
and is out of commission. Having nothing better to do with her time, she starts
creating some hot daydreams starring herself and you-know-who. This is intended
to be a trilogy; it remains to be seen whether I actually write parts 2 &
3.
Comments: Mea culpa, mea
culpa, mea maxima culpa. (Translation: I’m guilty as hell.) I have great respect
for Native American cultures, but in this story I succumb to the stereotyped,
romanticized view that is the province of romance writers and Hollywood. My
in-depth knowledge of the Lakhota Sioux would fill, oh, a 3 x 5 index card
(maybe). There are details here and there that are accurate, but mostly I made
it up. I apologize…but alas, I don’t repent.
Oh yeah – I know Chakotay is
supposedly descended from Central American Indians (though he also had
ancestors from Arizona), but this is Kathryn’s fantasy. She can make him any
kind of Indian she wants.
Note that in the
conversations where both English and Lakhota are being spoken, I have used
italics to indicate what is supposed to be in Lakhota.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The
padd made a satisfying clatter against the bulkhead where Captain Kathryn
Janeway had flung it in exasperation, but she found it provided only momentary
relief to her frustration. “Damn,” she thought to herself, “damn this
Kradin flu. It’s not bad enough that the Vori screwed up Chakotay’s mind; I had
to go and catch this wretched disease from the Kradin ambassador.”
She
stretched out on her bed, every muscle in her body protesting, her head feeling
as if it were in a vise. It was impossible to think or perform any useful work.
No cure, the doctor had said. She would just have to tough it out until it ran
its course. He could somewhat alleviate her discomfort, but not without making
her dopey with medication. He had ordered her off-duty for a minimum of 48
hours. Even worse, he had quarantined her to prevent further spread of the
pesky bug. She had been released to her quarters, but without work to do or
visitors to pass the time with, she envisioned an agonizingly slow recovery
period. “Damn,” she thought again as she let another padd fly.
Conceding
defeat, she reached for the hypospray he had given her, and self-administered
it. “Hmmm…” she pondered. “Maybe I can salvage something useful from
this debacle. For once I have the time to create some really elaborate
daydreams instead of the quick fantasies I usually concoct…that could be fun.”
The analgesic took effect, the vise around her head loosened, and a pleasant
buzz took its place. She smiled, sighed, and began to write a bodice ripper in
her head…
******
Kathryn
O’Connor was certain that she would never become accustomed to the bone-jarring
ride of a western stagecoach. It seemed like forever since she had left the
comparatively smooth roads of Boston, experiencing nearly every means of
conveyance in her long journey west. Since Chicago, there had been nothing but
these dreadful stagecoaches, and Casper was still at least two weeks away as
they made their way through Sioux Indian country.
So
far it wasn’t exactly the adventure she had envisioned when she decided to make
a new life in the rough and ready West. There was nothing left for her back
East; her parents had died, few relatives remained, and a spinster nearing the
ancient age of 30 could look forward to a long and boring life teaching school
and having tea with the other spinsters and widows. Bah! It wasn’t for her. Out
West, a single woman’s life was not so precisely defined, and there were many
more eligible males eager to marry, not so quick to pass her over as hopelessly
old. And if she didn’t find one that suited her – no matter, life would be much
more interesting than her socially circumscribed existence in Boston.
But
the trip! An ordeal to be endured. She was puzzled but grateful when the
stagecoach seemed to be slowing down in the middle of nowhere, but then there
was shouting, and her blood ran cold when shots rang out and the coach lurched
to a halt. Good lord! They must be under attack by Indians! Almost immediately
the door swung open and a loud rough voice ordered “Everybody out, and keep
your hands up!”
Kathryn
was momentarily confused. Not Indians, but three seedy looking white men seemed
to have commandeered the stagecoach. She recoiled in horror when she glanced
back and saw the driver motionless on the ground, covered in blood.
The
next few moments were too horrible to bear. In cold blood, one of the outlaws
dispatched all four of the other passengers, all men, as the other two bandits
ransacked the dying bodies for valuables. He sneered as he held his gun on
Kathryn. Stringy, dirty blond hair fell across his face. “Don’t worry, honey.
We ain’t gonna kill you. We got other uses for you.”
Kathryn
went rigid with shock. A strong wave of nausea pulsed through her as the
ghastliness of the situation struck her. They would violate her and then murder
her, too.
After
they had stripped the stagecoach and its passengers of all the goods they could
carry, the grubby blond forced Kathryn onto his horse, pistol-whipping her when
she resisted. He pulled himself up behind her, and the ragtag bunch galloped
away.
The
ride was exceeding unpleasant and uncomfortable. Saddles are not made for two,
and being squashed so intimately against this loathsome stranger was
unbearable. Kathryn could smell his squalid breath, and her skin crawled when
he circled one arm around her waist.
After
some time, they arrived at a watering hole, reined in the horses, and
dismounted. Kathryn’s relief at being disengaged from close proximity to the
disgusting bandit was short-lived when she saw the look on his face. He took a
long draft from his canteen as he eyed her thoroughly, then he smirked. “We’ll
rest here long enough to have a little fun, honey.” His companions guffawed,
paying but little attention to Kathryn and their compatriot as they watered their
horses. “Save some for us,” one of them called out.
The
blond removed his gunbelt and advanced on her. She turned and began to run from
him, hoping he would simply shoot her now and spare her further horrors, but
she tripped over a rock and went sprawling. In no time he was on her, grasping
at her clothing, tearing her dress, pulling the skirt and petticoat up. She
screamed long and loud, and vainly flailed at him. She would not be taken
without a hell of a fight.
And
then she noticed what he had forgotten – his knife was in a sheath strapped to
his leg. She grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it in his face, briefly
blinding him, and in an instant the knife was in her hand. She slashed at him,
but with her bad angle and lack of leverage, she only managed to crease the
skin of his shoulder.
“You
BITCH,” he hollered, seizing her wrist and squeezing until the knife dropped
from her hand. He picked it up and viciously hacked a nasty gash in her upper
arm. The resulting pain sapped all the strength she had remaining to resist his
assault. He loomed above her for a moment, leering at her with an angry smirk,
then all movement seemed to occur in slow motion as he began to bend toward
her.
From
nowhere, shots rang out, and then there was a resounding “thwack” as an arrow
pierced the chest of the man above her. A look of consternation appeared on his
dirty face, then he fell backwards onto her legs.
Kathryn
stared at him in disbelief, and scrambled from underneath him. Before she could
even take stock and make sense of what was happening, a horse galloped up and a
bronze-skinned man jumped off. Knife drawn, he jerked up the fallen robber by
the collar. Satisfied that the man was truly dead, he let go and the lifeless
head thumped onto the ground.
Kathryn’s
mouth dropped open and she gaped at the new arrival in shock. An Indian!
Kathryn, in her dazed state, stared at his face and tried to make sense of her
situation. Had she just been cast from the frying pan into the proverbial fire?
Saved from one group of attackers merely to be savaged by another?
She
flinched as the dark haired man reached toward her. He slowed his movements, as
if trying not to frighten her, and gently pulled her petticoat and skirt down
to where they belonged. He spoke to her in his own language, which was
gibberish to her, but the tone of his calm and soothing voice began to put her
more at ease.
And
his eyes! His deep brown eyes conveyed concern and compassion. Kathryn’s
breathing slowed and she visibly relaxed. She glanced around just long enough
to ascertain that several other Indians were standing around the fallen bodies
of the other two outlaws.
As
she turned back around, her rescuer gently grasped her injured arm and
inspected it. It was bleeding profusely. Letting go of it carefully, he turned
and began to rip the flannel shirt off Kathryn’s attacker, then wrapped the
strips of cloth around her arm to bandage the wound.
She
watched him intently as he worked. In her stupefied condition, she was very surprised
to find herself focusing not on her ordeal, or what would come next. Instead
she found herself thinking how unnaturally handsome this Indian was, and what
an aura of peace he had about him.
As
he finished his task, he looked up into her face and smiled his reassurance.
Then a strange expression came over him – of wonder, perhaps, or realization –
and he seemed to be gazing intently at her hair. He murmured something as he
tenderly caressed a lock of it, and the increasingly woozy Kathryn was mesmerized
by his reverie.
Then
the calls of his companions snatched his attention from her. He turned abruptly
to the outlaw he had speared, and with a determined jerk retrieved his arrow
from the dead man’s chest. Seeing that was all it took to finish off the dizzy
Kathryn, and her world went black.
/\/\/\/\/\
When
Kathryn came back to the edge of consciousness, she struggled to comprehend the
sensations she was feeling. She seemed to be jolting up and down rhythmically,
and with every downstroke the front of her body was pushed into a firm but soft
surface. Some thing, or things, seemed to be wrapped around her. She fought to
regain consciousness, to lift her head, to see where she was. Finally, though
delirious, she did manage to open her eyes.
She
was looking at…black threads? With difficulty she pulled her head up. Hair.
Black hair. She looked into…a face. The face of a copper-brown angel taking her
to heaven. She smiled at the face, and it smiled back, and began to talk in a
deep, sonorous, tranquil voice. A hand, or something, pushed gently at the back
of her head, urging her to nestle back onto the sheltering shoulder. She did
not resist, and soon she passed from her dream-like state back into oblivion.
/\/\/\/\/\
When
Kathryn next became aware, she was flat on her back. She stared up at what
seemed to be a circle of crossed sticks, framing a patch of sky. She blinked,
and strained to come to full consciousness. Looking around, she began to feel
that she was in a circular tent. An Indian tipi! Of course. Her rescuer had
brought her back to his home.
Glancing
at her injured arm, she noticed that the flannel wrappings were gone, replaced
by fresh bandages. She tried to lift herself up, but the pain brought a groan
from her lips. Almost immediately, the door flap of the tipi opened, and a
figure entered and came to kneel at her side.
It
was him. Her savior. He regarded her with obvious concern, and began to speak
in words she could only guess the meaning of. He must be asking how she was.
“I’m fine,” she replied, “much better. Thank you for saving my life.” She
smiled at him, hoping that somehow her meaning was clear.
She
coughed slightly, and licked dry lips, and right away he reached for a cup of
liquid. Water, she hoped. He gently helped her hold her head up and tipped the
cup to her mouth so that she could drink. She drank her fill, and he put the
cup aside.
The
handsome Indian sat back. Pointing to himself, he slowly said, “Chakotay.”
That
must be his name. “Chakotay,” Kathryn repeated, smiling at him. She then
pointed to herself. “Kathryn.”
“Kataryn,”
he mimicked.
An
older gentleman then stepped into the tipi, smiling and nodding when he saw
that Kathryn was awake. “Watanahi,” Chakotay said, pointing to him, then he
gestured around the tipi as he said something else. Kathryn finally understood
that the tipi belonged to this man and his wife, and she came to learn that he
was the medicine man treating her.
After
they gave her something to eat and checked her wound, they left her alone to rest.
Kathryn lay back and started trying to piece together the dream-like memories
she had had, jolting up and down, gazing into Chakotay’s face. She pondered it
for a while. The jolting must have been the horseback ride to get to the Indian
village. But how and why would she have been facing Chakotay? And what was the
sensation of having something around her body about?
She
thought about how one would safely transport an unconscious person on a horse
without causing more damage. A travois was the obvious solution, but would be
very slow. Being secured solo on a horse would be out of the question if the
horse were going any faster than a walk, it would be terribly jarring. She
envisioned the injured person facing forward in front of another rider. But in that
position, it would be very hard to keep the person’s head from being flung
around dangerously. If she had faced Chakotay, and was secured to him with a
few lengths of rope, it would be easy for him to cradle her head on his
shoulder, and to steady it with his free hand. That made sense, and jibed with
her hazy memories.
Then
she began to contemplate the intimacy of that arrangement. She must have been
virtually sitting in his lap, with her legs around him, meaning that their most
private areas had been…oh! A heated flush traveled up her chest and into her
face as she pictured how intimately they must have been entwined. It was a
blush borne not only of embarrassment, but also of…arousal. It had been a long
time since she had had such carnal thoughts as she was having now about this
man.
Nearly
six years had passed since she had touched a man in passion. It was the night
before Patrick had marched off to war. Had she known then that he would never
come back, perhaps she would have given into his pleas to consummate their
love, but she insisted on waiting until the wedding night they would share once
the war ended. They were sure that would be soon, but the wretched war dragged
on for four more years. She waited patiently for his return. In a cruel irony,
he survived the Rebel bullets until hostilities ceased, only to die from
smallpox before he could reach home.
But
the memory of that one night still thrilled her to her core. She had permitted
him to do things she had never done before. Oh, those hands and what they could
do! She had never dreamed such feelings were inside of her, waiting to be
released. Having learned that they were, she later occasionally sought that
pleasure by her own hand, though not often because she always felt dreadfully
guilty afterward.
Now
this Indian, this Chakotay, had unleashed that hunger in her again. What would
it feel like to have his hands explore her body and all its secret places? More
to the point, what would it be like to finally experience ALL of lovemaking – with him? Just the thought of it made her
feel warm all over, and started a curious sensation in her groin.
Kathryn
shook herself, trying to dispel her wanton thoughts. Was she crazy? How could
she have these feelings toward this man she scarcely knew, with whom she could
barely communicate, and who was so clearly forbidden to her? She was a
civilized, Christian lady. She had been prepared to accept that her life in the
West would lack many of the comforts of the more refined East, but an Indian
tipi was certainly not what she had pictured as her home!
And
yet, there was something about this man and this place that intrigued her and
captivated her imagination. Marrying a striking Indian warrior and living among
his people would certainly be quite an adventure, and the desire for adventure
was what had propelled her on this journey.
Marrying!?
Where had that subversive thought come from? She must be delirious. It was out
of the question. Once she had recovered, this kind man would undoubtedly help
her return to her people. The interlude she spent at the village would be
adventure enough.
/\/\/\/\/\
And
so her recuperation began. Kathryn was very frustrated at the difficulty in
communicating with her hosts. Apparently no one in this village spoke more than
a few words of English. There was so much she wanted to know – especially about
her handsome rescuer.
They
seemed to want to know about her, too. She had frequent visitors, from the
chief on down. Nearly everyone who met her seemed very taken with her hair.
Kathryn surmised that they had rarely, if ever, seen vivid auburn hair like
hers. Even among whites it was uncommon. “Shoshala,” they kept saying in
reverent tones, whatever that meant. She felt like quite the celebrity.
Chakotay
did not stay with her constantly, but he seemed to always be there when she
needed him. After several days, when she had regained enough strength to move
around, he led her around the village, introducing her to everyone and showing
her how they lived. She was surprised to realize that their existence was not
so primitive as she had always been led to believe. Not only were the Indian
goods more sophisticated than she expected, but they also possessed a great
many items obtained in trade with the whites.
She
soon learned that while they were “Sioux” to her, they called themselves
Lakhota. Communication was still hard – she was realizing that Lakhota was a
very complex language – but she was
rapidly developing a basic vocabulary.
As her
appreciation for her Indian hosts grew, so too did her attraction to Chakotay.
When he wasn’t looking, she would drink in his magnificent bronzed body with
her eyes. The weather was warm, and he wore nothing but a breech clout,
moccasins, and a few feathers in his hair. It was not often that Kathryn had
seen men shirtless – even when she and Patrick had partaken of their night of
stolen passion in the garden behind her house, they had dared not do more than
reach beneath their unbuttoned and unhooked clothing, fearful of being
discovered. Certainly she had seen nothing that compared to this impressive
display of flesh. It was enough to make her forget her religion – Chakotay’s
sinewy muscles rippling as he moved about with an animalistic grace, the tautness
of his half-naked buttocks, the slight bulge in the front of his breech clout
that hinted at his maleness. She had lascivious thoughts of touching that bulge
and watching it grow larger, freeing it from its confinement and then feeling
it plunge into her, showing her what she had been missing all these years.
The
attraction was not merely physical. She observed his dealings with her and with
those in the Lakhota village. He was gentle, yet strong, with an aura of
authority and confidence, though as far as she could tell he held no particular
official position in the tribe. He was treated with much respect and affection,
and reciprocated in kind. Many of the other warriors seemed excessively
concerned with always appearing tough and cocky, but Chakotay was not like
that. However, like the other men, he tended not to openly display his emotions
– what a change from the Irishmen of Kathryn’s own family! All in all, he was a
very impressive package. Kathryn found herself wishing more than once that he
was white, or that she was Indian.
She
was almost sure that he had feelings for her as well. Despite their language
differences, and Chakotay’s tendency to be reserved with his feelings, they
seemed to be able to communicate a great deal, especially through their eyes.
Kathryn thought she had never seen such expressive eyes.
However,
at times those eyes appeared to reflect a great sadness when he looked at her.
Why? Because he was attracted to her as well, but knew he would have to let her
go? What Kathryn wouldn’t have given for a translator to help her understand!
/\/\/\/\/\
Shoshala
sat next to the fire ring in front of her tipi. She cradled her infant
daughter, who was suckling at her breast. Her young son danced around the fire
ring, imitating the chants he had heard the band’s warriors perform a few days
before as they prepared for a hunt.
She
looked up to see Chakotay approaching, just returned from hunting. She stood
and walked to meet him, as the boy ran to him and hugged him around the leg.
“Welcome
home, my husband,” she said as she kissed him.
“It
is good to be back, my wife. I never rest easy when we are apart,” he replied,
smiling the brilliant dimpled smile that few outside their family ever saw.
Kathryn
opened her eyes. She could see the stars through the smoke hole; it was still
dark. What a dream! So vivid, so detailed – a taste of what it would be like to
be Chakotay’s wife. It felt so right. Tears began to fall as she mourned what
she would never have, could never have.
/\/\/\/\/\
The
next morning she awoke to find Chakotay kneeling next to her, gently fingering
her hair, and looking particularly downcast. She gave him a puzzled look. He
murmured something, then rose and left the tipi.
She
quickly got up and changed out of her simple cloth sleeping shift and into the
beautiful buckskin Indian dress they had given her to wear. She was glad that
Watanahi was not in the tipi; apparently Indians had much different ideas about
modesty and thought nothing of dressing in front of others. After two weeks of
it, she was adapting, but it definitely took some getting used to. She thought
about her dream. What would it be like dressing – and undressing – in front of
Chakotay every day? The thought made her blush.
Leaving
the tipi, she found Watanahi and his wife sitting at their outdoor fire ring
enjoying a breakfast of porridge, which they shared with her. She looked
around. Usually Chakotay joined her for breakfast, but he had not returned.
Kathryn was apprehensive. Something seemed to be up, but what it was, she
couldn’t say.
As
she was finishing her meal, she looked up to see Chakotay approaching them,
leading two horses. One was his mustang, which he always rode bareback as most
Indians did. The other was one of the horses that Chakotay and the other braves
had acquired when they killed the outlaws who had kidnapped Kathryn. It was
fully outfitted with saddle and bridle. As he drew closer, his intent suddenly
struck Kathryn full force, and she sat stunned.
Chakotay
gestured at the horses, then off in the distance. “Chakotay, Kataryn, go Fort
Randall.” He continued speaking, now in Lakhota, but the only words she made
out were her name and the word she took to mean “white people.”
She
had recovered from her injuries enough to be able to travel, and he was ready
to return her to the whites at Fort Randall. She should have been ready for
this moment, she should have been looking forward to it, but now all she felt
was a sudden anguish. Her heart began to thud. I’m not ready to go, she
thought desperately. I can’t leave Chakotay! Until this moment she had
not seriously considered staying here, but now it seemed unthinkable that she
could leave. She saw herself in her dream, with Chakotay, with their children.
She belonged here!
A
near panic began to creep into her. A dream is just a dream. How could she be
sure of Chakotay’s interest? What if taking her as his wife was the furthest
thing from his mind? Staying here was pointless if she was not by his side.
She
looked up at him. In her eyes he must be seeing alarm and confusion, in his she
read bewilderment…and pain. It was causing him pain to lead her back to her
people. Surely that meant he wanted her to stay – and surely he wanted her to
stay because he was in love with her!
“No,”
she said firmly in Lakhota, shaking her head. “No, I don’t want to go,” she
continued in English. “Please let me stay here.” She slapped the ground with
her open palm as emphasis.
Chakotay
stared at her, and she watched a series of emotions flicker through his eyes –
surprise, puzzlement, love, hope – that was what she was seeing, wasn’t it? She
was so afraid of reading too much into his expression, but it seemed to her
that he was also afraid of misinterpreting her. Oh, how frustrating it was not
to be able to speak plainly with him, to tell him exactly how she felt, to find
out what he was really thinking!
Finally
he smiled tentatively at her, walked over to her and extended his hand to her.
She reached up to him, and he gripped her hand tightly. She rose and their eyes
remained intently locked, sending, receiving, and confirming messages of love –
she was sure of it! They both broke into wide smiles, Chakotay’s charming
dimples flashing as she had never seen them before. Kathryn resisted a powerful
urge to throw herself into his arms, fearful of violating Lakhota etiquette.
“Kataryn
will stay with Chakotay? Stay with the Lakhota?” he asked her in his
language, squeezing her hand.
“Yes,”
she replied simply, hoping she correctly understood his question. His smile
grew even broader, if that was possible.
Chakotay
addressed the medicine man and his wife, but he spoke too rapidly for Kathryn
to follow anything he said. They both smiled and nodded their heads, and
Chakotay grinned at their reply.
Still
holding Kathryn’s hand, Chakotay walked back over to the horses and retrieved
their leads. Together they returned them to the corral, but Chakotay did not
stop to remove their packs. Instead, he led Kathryn to the most elaborately
painted tipi in the encampment, the one she knew belonged to the chief.
The
chief was finishing up his breakfast outside his tipi. After exchanging the
proper greetings, Chakotay began speaking to the chief. Kathryn heard her name
and his, and could make out a few other words. She could tell that he was
explaining that Kathryn wanted to stay with the Lakhota.
The
chief nodded and smiled with satisfaction. In his reply she caught the word
“Shoshala” that she had heard so often – in her dream, she had felt it was her
name. Chakotay solemnly nodded his head, saying “Yes.” The chief
motioned for them both to enter his tipi, along with him and his wife and their
teenaged daughter, the only one of their children that still shared their tipi.
They
all sat, and an animated discussion followed, of which Kathryn understood
virtually none. Chakotay and the chief did most of the talking, but the chief’s
wife and daughter joined in at times. At one point, the wife began to look at
Kathryn and nod thoughtfully, while the daughter looked surprised, then
pleased.
Finally
the chief addressed Kathryn. “Kataryn not go?”
“No,”
she replied. “I want to stay here. Kathryn wants to become Lakhota.” She patted
the ground again, not knowing any better way to show her meaning. She was strung
as tight as a fiddle. It was maddening to be in the middle of this conversation
about her future and be unable to contribute, or even to understand what was
going on. She gained strength by exchanging glances with Chakotay, who smiled
at her.
The
chief stood up and held his hand out to Kathryn, who got to her feet. “Kataryn
– you will become Lakhota. You will be my daughter,” he said. Kathryn –
Lakhota – daughter, Kathryn translated. What was he saying? Wakinah, the
chief’s daughter, stood and grasped Kathryn’s arm, smiling broadly. “Sister,”
she said in Lakhota. Kathryn was beginning to understand – she was being
adopted by the Lakhota, and into the chief’s family!
Her
excitement was tempered by anxiousness – if Chakotay were planning to take her as
his wife, why would she be adopted into the chief’s family? Perhaps Sioux
customs dictated that she become a member of the tribe before Chakotay could
marry her? It was so stressful to keep guessing about everything!
The
chief’s wife gave Kathryn a blanket and led her to an unoccupied area of the
tipi. Kathryn nodded – that would be where she would sleep. “Thank you,”
she said to her new family. A few more words were exchanged, and then Chakotay
took her hand and pulled her out of the tipi.
They
walked back over to the horse corral. As they approached his horse, Chakotay
turned to Kathryn and gazed intently at her, his eyes full of emotion.
“Chakotay go,” he said. Kathryn gasped. “Why? Where are you going?” Why would
he be leaving, now that she had made clear she wanted to stay – to be with him?
Through
words, pantomime, and signs, Chakotay conveyed that he was going to another
Lakhota encampment, and that he would come back in about three days. Kathryn
still could not figure out the purpose for his trip, but was quite relieved
that he planned to return soon.
He
removed the saddle, bridle, and packs from the horse he had intended for
Kathryn to ride to Fort Randall, and stored them in their proper places. Then
they walked hand in hand to Chakotay’s horse. They stood together on the far
side of the horse, blocked from the view of the brave who was guarding the
horses, as well as the rest of the tribe.
Chakotay
leaned down, his face close to Kathryn’s, and murmured some words she didn’t
understand. But the look in his eyes was clear enough. Her lips parted, and he
accepted the subtle invitation; gently, his mouth began to caress hers. One
hand slid behind her neck, the other around her waist, and he pulled her
tightly against him. She responded enthusiastically, running her hands along
the strong muscles of his back. She had never felt anything so sensuous in her
life!
And
the kiss! Patrick had never kissed her like this! Chakotay’s tongue tenderly
circled her lips before slipping between them, then delicately explored her
mouth, tickling her palate and dueling affectionately with her tongue.
Kathryn’s heart began to beat faster and faster, she felt a fluttering in her
loins, and her knees were going weak. Never had she had such intense feelings
before. She held onto Chakotay as if for dear life.
He
finally broke the kiss, and pulled back slightly to lock eyes with her. What
passed between them was crystal clear. She no longer had any doubt that they
would be together. The love she saw in his eyes could fill the sky!
Slowly,
painfully, he stepped back from her, spoke a few quiet words of parting, and
swung himself up onto the mustang. She blew him a kiss, and tried to hold back
her tears as the horse and rider galloped off into the Black Hills.
/\/\/\/\/\
The
time went faster than Kathryn expected. During her recuperation, she had
started to learn how to do a few of the
household tasks so she would not be so much of a burden. Now, her
training started in earnest. Wakinah served as her primary teacher. The girl,
who must have been half Kathryn’s age, seemed very proud to be the one to
assist her and went about the job enthusiastically. Kathryn, for her part, was
a very capable and keen student. She did her best to absorb all that she was
being taught about preparing food, tanning animal hides and fashioning them
into the many products they were used for, and everything else it took to live
the Lakhota way. She knew it would take months, if not years, to learn it all.
Life
as the chief’s daughter was interesting. She had felt like a celebrity before,
but now it seemed like the others treated her with even more respect and
deference. Or did that have something to do with the fact that she had chosen
to stay with them? Most whites who lived with Indians did not have a choice;
they had been taken captive. She was just glad they did not seem to resent her.
In particular, with Chakotay’s obvious interest in her, she was surprised that
the eligible young women of the tribe did not seem to see her as a rival. He was
the pick of the tribe, as far as she was concerned – why weren’t they all after
him?
More
questions, she sighed. So many questions and so few answers!
/\/\/\/\/\
Finally,
on the afternoon of the third day Chakotay had been gone, Kathryn looked up to
see him walking toward her. He was trying to appear reserved, the typical
unemotional Indian male, but she could see the smile dancing in his dark eyes.
A young man was walking with him. Kathryn noticed right away that everything
about him seemed lighter than the other Indians – his chestnut colored hair,
his translucent amber eyes, and his tanned skin.
The
two reached Kathryn and the young man spoke to her in fluent English. “So you
are the famous Shoshala that Chakotay has told me so much about! I am
Lokahnishi.”
Kathryn’s
eyes went wide with surprise. “You speak English!”
“Yes,”
he said, glancing at Chakotay and grinning. “Your suitor here is tired of
trying to communicate with the three words of English he knows. He came to
borrow me from my band for a while so you can have a real conversation for a
change. There’s a lot he wants to know.”
“That
feeling is mutual, I assure you,” she replied, immensely relieved that she would
finally get answers to many of her questions. “Where did you learn English so
well?”
His
expression turned more serious. “My mother was white, a settler who was
captured by my band. She was adopted by the clan and married my father. She
came to love our people, but after my father was killed, she begged to be
allowed to return to the whites, with me. Our chief had a real soft spot for
her, so he let her do what she wanted. So I lived among the whites for a few
years, went to white schools. But my mother eventually realized that there was
no place in the white world for a “red man’s whore” – that’s what they called
her – and her half-breed son. When she’d had all she could take, we came back
to where we belonged.”
He
paused for a moment, his eyes boring into hers. “Be very sure that staying with
the Lakhota is what you want. You will never be able to return to your old
life.”
Kathryn
looked straight at Chakotay. “Everything I want is here,” she said quietly.
Lokahnishi
was obviously no stranger to the Indians here; very quickly a small crowd
gathered to welcome him. He greeted them briefly, then with Kathryn and
Chakotay following, he made his way to the chief’s tipi to pay his respects.
Kathryn
took the opportunity to confirm her status. “Lokahnishi, as far as I can tell,
I have been adopted into the chief’s family. Is that the case?”
“Yes,
that’s what Chakotay told me,” he nodded.
“Please
tell my new family that I am very grateful to them, and I will try to be a good
daughter to them,” she requested. The young man related her words, then
everyone chuckled when the chief made his reply.
“He
says he thinks it will turn out that he got the better end of the bargain,”
Lokahnishi grinned.
“What
does he mean by that – and why did it make everyone laugh?” Kathryn asked,
dubious.
He
chuckled. “We’ll get to that later. You and Chakotay have much to discuss. Come
on.”
They
all bid goodbye to the chief, and walked to Chakotay’s tipi. Chakotay lifted the
door flap and they entered. Kathryn had never been inside. She was impressed by
the array of furs and other things she saw. Clearly he was a good provider! She
had wondered why he lived alone, when very few in the encampment did. Perhaps
she would now find out.
They
all sat down, Kathryn facing Chakotay, and Lokahnishi alongside them. “You and
Chakotay must talk freely to one another, as if I am not here. I will be the
voice for both of you, but I will not tell anyone else what you say here.”
Kathryn nodded, and he repeated the same thing to Chakotay.
Kathryn
smiled at Chakotay. “The first thing I want to do is thank you for saving my
life. I know I would be dead now if you had not come along when you did.”
Chakotay
looked at her with concern. “I am glad the spirits put us where we could
help you. How did you come to be with those savages? What happened to your
husband and children?”
She
swallowed hard and told him how the stagecoach had been attacked, and everyone
murdered but her. She shuddered at the memory of the disgusting outlaw touching
her, and Chakotay reached out to take her hand to calm her. Then she told him
all about Patrick, and explained that she had never married or borne children.
He and Lokahnishi looked quite surprised at that. Judging from what she’d seen,
the Sioux married quite young.
“What
about you?” she asked, looking at him shyly, a little afraid to pry. “Why do
you live in this beautiful tipi alone?”
He
looked a bit chagrined, and began to answer. “I am the only one left. I was
married. I married into Lokahnishi’s band,” he said, gesturing toward his
friend. “It is our usual custom for a man to leave his own band and join his
wife’s band. We do not normally marry within our own band because inbreeding is
not healthy.” So that explained why the young ladies did not see her as a
rival! He was off limits to them!
He
continued. “I married later than most do, and my beautiful wife…” he
trailed off for a moment, and Kathryn could see the wistfulness in his eyes. “My
beautiful wife died in childbirth two winters after we married. My son did not
survive. I returned to my own band
because my mother needed me. My wife’s family had plenty of men to help. But my
parents had no daughters, and my brothers had married into other bands. I provided
for my mother until she left to join my father in the spirit world.” He
paused for a moment, and Kathryn squeezed his hand in sympathy. They had both
lost so much…and now had found each other.
Chakotay
stared at the floor for a minute, his face very solemn. Then he looked intently
into Kathryn’s steel-blue eyes. “I need to know…” He hesitated. “I
need to know why you chose to stay with the Lakhota, instead of going back to
your people.”
Kathryn
regarded him with mild surprise. Didn’t he know? Wasn’t it clear to both
of them that they had fallen in love? Suddenly she felt too shy to blurt it out
in such direct terms. After all, she had not even acknowledged it to herself
until the moment of truth had arrived, when he was waiting to lead her away.
She
answered hesitantly. “I…I didn’t really know why, at first. I wasn’t planning
to stay. But…when I thought about leaving you…I couldn’t. I had seen us
together in a dream, the night before, and it just made me feel…like I was
supposed to be here. Like we…belonged together.” She nervously twisted her
hair, wondering if she had said too much.
Chakotay
and Lokahnishi looked at each other, astonished, as Lokahnishi translated her
words.
“A
dream?” Chakotay inquired with passionate interest. “You had a vision?
Tell me what you saw. All of it.”
Kathryn
was suddenly embarrassed, and a little confused. “But why? It was just a
dream,” she said dismissively.
Lokahnishi
spoke for himself. “Kathryn, the Lakhota take dreams and visions very seriously.
What you dreamed may have great significance. Please tell us.”
“Alright,”
she said, shrugging her shoulders. She described everything she could remember:
she and Chakotay as husband and wife, a son and a daughter, even the little one
dancing and chanting around the fire. “And although no one said it to me, I
felt that my name was Shoshala – that word I keep hearing. What does it mean?”
After she heard Lokahnishi translate the last of her words, she looked up to
see them both staring at her in amazement. A range of deep emotions were
reflected in Chakotay’s expressive face – love, hope, desire, reverence.
“What?” she said, almost a little afraid at the reaction her story had
provoked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Chakotay
and Lokahnishi looked at each other for a moment, then Chakotay began to speak.
“I
need to tell you a story,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “When I
was a young brave, only about 12 winters, a very powerful Lakhota shaman
visited our band. He was well respected throughout the Sioux Nations because he
had a gift of sight greater than any other living Sioux. He did not have
visions as frequently as other shamans, but his visions usually foretold
important events, and they usually came to pass.”
Chakotay
took a deep breath and continued. “He was with us for about two months. In
all that time, he had only one vision – and it was about me.” Kathryn
cocked her eyebrow in attention. “He told me that I would marry a woman with
hair like fire. That is what Shoshala means – Hair Like Fire. He said our son
would be a great chief, who will guide our band through a time of terrible
troubles.”
“I
thought‘ Shoshala’ was symbolic – I had
seen a few yellow hairs among the whites, but no one in my band knew that
anyone could have hair the color of yours. That’s one of the reasons I waited
so long to marry. I kept trying to find a sign that a woman who had caught my
interest was Shoshala. Maybe her hair would be so shiny that the sunset or
firelight would be reflected in it – I don’t know exactly what I was looking
for, but until you, I never found it.”
He
sighed. “Then I met Kaniwasha, and I stopped looking. I never saw a sign
that she was Shoshala, but I fell in love with her and didn’t care about the
prophecy anymore.” He looked profoundly sad for a few moments, and Kathryn
caressed his hand, trying to give him strength. “I wonder what I would do
now if she were still alive. Lakhota are permitted to take more than one wife,
but as a practical matter, few do. I think you would have liked each other, but
perhaps not enough to share me!” His smile broke through his melancholy.
Kathryn
sat transfixed by his story. Goosebumps rose all over her body. Tentatively she
spoke. “So…you think I am the Shoshala your shaman saw in his vision? That we
are fated…to marry?” Her heart beat faster whenever she thought of Chakotay as
her husband.
“Yes.
I thought of the vision right away, as soon as I noticed your hair, at the
watering hole. When I first brought you here, I was afraid to believe it. Few
whites, especially women, willingly live as Lakhota, and I would not force you
to stay. Our clan no longer takes white captives – it brings too many Bluecoats
with too many guns. Besides, I would not want a wife who did not freely choose
to be with me. When you chose to stay, I dared to believe you were the one
truly meant for me – but I still could not be sure. I could not be
certain you wanted to be with me – perhaps, after your experience, you were
afraid of the white men, and that is why you did not want to go back.”
“But
now, I believe. Your vision confirms it. We are meant to be together,
and to have a son who will be a great Lakhota chief.” He took both of her
hands in his. “Shoshala, will you be my wife? Will you stay with me always,
and bear my children?” The intensity of his deep brown eyes drew Kathryn
into him and held her like a magnet.
“Yes,
Chakotay,” she replied, trembling from emotion, barely able to speak. “I
will be your wife. I will stay with you always. I will bear your children. I
love you.”
Chakotay
rose to his knees and pulled Kathryn up as well. He embraced her ferociously
and crushed his mouth to hers. Lost in the moment, they both forgot that
Lokahnishi was there. He took his cue and slipped quietly out of the tipi.
Kathryn’s
passion threatened to rage out of control. She had never had feelings quite
like the ones she was having now. Her hands roamed all over Chakotay’s smooth
chest and back, and with every inch she covered, her lust grew. Chakotay’s
hands trailed down to her rear and pulled her into him. Lord, she could feel
his arousal pressing into belly!
Chakotay
turned Kathryn’s body and lowered her on her back onto his bed of furs. He
arched over her, drinking in the sight of her. A flush of arousal moved up her
body and she felt as if she was taken by fever. With no conscious effort, she
began to rotate against Chakotay’s brawny thigh, pressing her womanhood into
his hard muscles. His erection was like a rock against her hip. She felt his
warm strong hand slipping under her dress, moving up her thigh. The sensation
of him moving toward her intimate area sent tingles of excitement all over her.
This was way beyond anything she had experienced with any man; she was out of
control!
Chakotay
broke the kiss and they stared at one another, panting heavily. A look of shock
crossed Chakotay’s face, and he began to pull away. “Wait! We must wait!”
he whispered hoarsely.
Kathryn
understood, but the sudden loss of the physical connection made her feel almost
bereft. “When?” she replied desperately. “I want you so badly…”
“Soon,”
he replied, clinging to her hand as he stood and pulled her up with him. “Very
soon.” He leaned and rested his forehead against Kathryn’s while they both
attempted to calm their breathing and regain control. Then he led her to the
door flap and gestured for her to leave. “Go back to your tipi, the tipi of
your mother,” he said. Kathryn understood enough of the words to grasp his
meaning.
/\/\/\/\/\
She
ambled back to the other tipi, her head spinning while she digested all that
she had been told, and all that was happening to her – especially the
revelation that she would, indeed, become Chakotay’s wife. Her body still
seemed to be vibrating from the thrill of his passionate embrace. How soon was
soon, she wondered. Even tonight wasn’t soon enough for her! She had waited
almost 30 years to be initiated into sexual intimacy, and she was more than
ready for this man to lead her!
“Kathryn?
Are you with us?” Lokahnishi prodded.
Kathryn
looked up in surprise. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t
realize she was back at her tipi, and that Lokahnishi was talking to her.
“Oh…I’m sorry…what did you ask me?” she replied, shaking off her reverie.
“You
were so lost in thought I asked you if you were having another vision,” he
said, only half joking. “I guess you have a lot to think about.”
“That’s
an understatement. What happens now? I don’t know anything about Lakhota
engagements and wedding ceremonies,” Kathryn asked, shaking her head.
“Well,”
he replied, “I don’t expect Chakotay to waste any time. He will probably be
over here as soon as possible to ask your father for permission to court you,
and he will bring an offering as a bride price, to show his intentions are
serious.”
“A
bride price?” she asked incredulously, her voice rising along with her
eyebrows.
“Yes.
The suitor offers items of value to the bride’s family. It proves he is a good
provider, and compensates her family for losing her. Although that part doesn’t
make as much sense for the Sioux as much as it does for tribes where the bride
leaves her family to join her husband’s.”
Kathryn
looked askance. “I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea of being bought!”
Lokahnishi
chuckled. “We don’t look at it that way. Lakhota women are not property; they
are equal partners to their husbands. More so than whites, as far as I can
tell. For example,” he gestured at the chief’s intricately decorated tipi,
“this tipi does not belong to the chief. It belongs to his wife. It’s the same
for the other wives. When you marry, Chakotay’s tipi will become yours. Quite a
difference from the white world. My mother told me that as a woman, she
couldn’t legally own a house in her own name. Very strange, you whites,” he
shook his head and clucked his tongue.
“Point
well made. Well, what happens after my father agrees to the courtship?” she
asked.
“You
will officially be courting. Be aware that from then on, you cannot be alone
with Chakotay until you marry. You must always have a chaperone,” he warned.
Kathryn
groaned. “No more kisses for a while, I guess.” Good thing they had had their
romantic interlude, even if it had almost gone too far.
Lokahnishi
laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. You can actually get away with more than you
think. When Chakotay comes to call, he will bring a blanket. You will stand at
the doorway, or sit at the fire ring outside, and he will put the blanket over
your heads. That gives you a little privacy even in the presence of chaperones.
Don’t worry, everyone expects you to be kissing under that blanket.”
Lokahnishi
filled her in on the rest of their customs pertaining to courtship and
marriage, assuring her that the ceremony itself would be very low key. Having
gotten to this point, Kathryn just wanted it all to be over quickly, so she
could settle into her new role as a Lakhota wife. Every time she thought about
sharing Chakotay’s bed for the first time, a little shiver of pleasure snaked
its way down her spine, ending with a jolt to her intimate area.
Before
he had finished his explanations, Kathryn heard a bit of a commotion that
seemed to be headed their way. Looking past the nearby tipis, she saw Chakotay
slowly making his way toward them, leading three horses. One was saddled, the
other two were loaded down with an ample number of furs, skins, blankets, and
other goods. Many of the other Indians, well aware of what this represented,
trailed in his wake at a respectful distance so they could watch the drama
about to take place.
Kathryn’s
jaw dropped. “My word!” she exclaimed, turning to Lokahnishi. “Now I see what
the chief meant about getting the better end of the bargain. He could open his
own trading post with that haul! I had no idea we were talking about this much
stuff!”
Lokahnishi
smiled and his eyes twinkled at Kathryn’s obvious awe. “But you are quite a
prize. To offer less would be an insult to you and your new family.”
“Are
you serious? Is this a normal quantity to offer?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“A
normal quantity for an extraordinary bride, yes. You are the chief’s daughter.
But more importantly, you are Shoshala – you were foretold in a vision, and you
appeared from nowhere, as if the spirits brought you. Do you not sense how
revered you are?” he asked indulgently.
“I…well,
I have felt like a celebrity. Do you mean to tell me that everyone knows
Chakotay’s story?”
“Indeed
they do. And virtually everyone but Chakotay accepted you as the fulfillment of
the vision from the moment you appeared. Only he was cautious – reasonably so,
since it was his heart on the line,” he replied.
By
now, Chakotay and his entourage was nearly to the chief’s tipi. He did not look
at her. “What do I do now?” Kathryn whispered to Lokahnishi.
“Just
stand here with me. I will translate everything for you and explain what is
happening,” he said.
Chakotay
brought his horses to a halt in front of the tipi and announced in a loud clear
voice, “I wish to speak to the father of Shoshala.”
Wakinah
emerged from the tipi. “I will fetch my father for you.” She ran off,
and after a few minutes, the chief strode up with a purposeful gait. He
acknowledged Chakotay with a nod.
“I
have come to ask for your approval to marry your daughter Shoshala,”
Chakotay stated firmly. The chief’s eyebrow went up in question. After
Lokahnishi translated, he explained to Kathryn that normally, a warrior would
first ask for permission to court a woman. “All here know that she was
promised to me in the shaman’s vision. We have no need of a courtship period.”
He looked Kathryn in the eye. “We are ready to fulfill the destiny the
spirits have laid out for us.”
A
subtle smile appeared on the chief’s face and he folded his arms across his
chest. “So, skeptic, you are finally ready to believe that Kataryn is your
Shoshala?”
“My
heart has always known it. My head was afraid to believe it. But Kataryn has
left no doubt. She has had a vision of her own,” he said emphatically. A
murmur of excitement bubbled through the crowd as Chakotay outlined what
Kathryn had seen in her dream.
The
chief nodded appreciatively. He turned to his new daughter. “And what do you
say about this? Do you wish to marry this warrior?”
“Yes.
More than anything.” She smiled her most brilliant smile and looked at Chakotay.
He was trying to appear reserved, but his eyes, full of emotion, betrayed him.
“I
see,” said the chief. He turned to Chakotay. “What do you offer that is
worthy of such a prize as a bride sent by the spirits themselves?”
Chakotay
smiled shrewdly and looked at the chief’s wife. “Are not all wives sent by
the spirits themselves?” She smiled ironically and looked at her husband as
if to say “Well…?”
“True
enough, Chakotay,” he said with a chuckle.
“All
the goods our band owns would be unworthy of this rare jewel. I can only hope
you will accept my modest offering of two horses, and all the property they
carry.” He led the two packed horses toward the chief. “And this horse,”
he said, shrugging toward the saddled one, “will be a wedding gift for my bride.
I will also give to her the tipi of my mother. ”
“I
am too humble a man to interfere with what the spirits have set in motion. You
have my permission. When may we expect the happy ceremony to take place?”
said the chief with a twinkle in his eye.
Chakotay’s
gaze was riveted on Kathryn. “Tomorrow evening. It will be a full moon. An
auspicious time to begin a new life.”
Kathryn’s
heart beat faster and she blushed from head to toe. This was really happening –
and soon!
/\/\/\/\/\
The
next afternoon, Wakinah interrupted Kathryn’s chores and dragged her back to
their tipi. There, their mother and several other women – aunts, she thought –
joined them, and they gathered up supplies to prepare the bride for her
wedding.
First
they took her to the river, where they thoroughly washed her hair and body.
Kathryn went along with it and tried to hide her embarrassment. She was just
barely getting used to bathing communally with the women; being bathed by them
made her very self-conscious.
They
returned to the tipi. Her new mother pulled out the most beautiful dress
Kathryn had ever seen. It was buckskin that had somehow been bleached nearly
white, or perhaps it was from an albino deer. The yoke was completely covered
with semicircular pattern made from row upon row of beads in a multitude of
sizes and colors. Kathryn was speechless with awe. They helped her into it, and
adjusted the ties at the sides so that it molded to her body and looked as
though it had been made for her. She knew that it hadn’t; it was obviously not
new, it was probably the dress her new mother wore for ceremonial occasions.
Kathryn
gave her a heartfelt smile. “Thank you, my mother. It’s beautiful.” She
felt a twinge of sadness, thinking of her first mother. Kathryn wished her
parents had lived to see her marry, but she wondered what they would have
thought about this turn of events. Not the life they envisioned for their
proper Christian daughter, no doubt!
The
women carefully combed out her hair and plaited it in two long braids. Then
they painted a simple design on her face. They all stood back to admire their
handiwork, smiling and nodding. What Kathryn wouldn’t have given for a mirror
right then!
The
ceremony was, as Lokahnishi had promised her, fairly low key and short. Kathryn
could not take her eyes off Chakotay. He was not dressed as elaborately as she,
but he had on a beautifully beaded buckskin shirt, along with his breech clout
and leggings. His face paint gave him a wild look that resonated with something
feral within her. Later, she would remember little of the proceedings, it was
all a blur, her actions and words directed by her translator and now friend.
All she could really remember was Chakotay.
Afterward,
all wished them well, congratulating Chakotay for the exceptional woman he’d
been blessed with. A few of the more recently married women giggled as they
hugged Kathryn and conveyed their good wishes – they knew what delights awaited
a new bride on her wedding night!
/\/\/\/\/\
At
long last, Chakotay lit a small torch from the bonfire. He took Kathryn’s hand
and they walked in silence back to his tipi – their tipi – while the rest of the band continued to
celebrate in their absence. He lifted the door flap and she preceded him into
the dark space. Using the torch, he quickly started a fire in the fire ring.
The flames cast flickering shadows on the walls of the tipi, dancing in random
patterns that struck Kathryn as somehow mystical and symbolic. Unpredictable,
like her life. She was nervous, and she trembled for reasons that had nothing
to do with the temperature of the room.
Chakotay
finished building the fire and stood to face her. He slowly closed the small
distance between them, and lifted his hand to trace the pattern on her cheek.
“Kataryn,” he whispered. “My Shoshala. My wife.” He pulled off the
rawhide ties holding her braids, and combed his fingers through her hair to
loosen it. She shook it out, eliciting a smile from him. His powerful arms
enfolded her and his full, sensuous lips met hers. Her tension began to
dissipate as she melted into him. His tongue circled her mouth, then he drew
her bottom lip between his and sucked it gently. His hands explored all that
they could reach, first traveling upward along her back and spine to her
delicately sloping shoulders, then downward they followed the curves along her
sides, lingering at her waist to loosen the ties of the dress, finally firmly
grasping her derriere. He pulled her snugly to him, and his desire was clearly
in evidence, pressing rock hard against her.
Chakotay
broke their kiss only long enough for a deep breath, then resumed his
relentless passionate onslaught. His hands slid to her thighs, where they
started gathering up her dress until his fingers touched her bare skin. She
shuddered from both arousal and nerves, and Chakotay pulled his face back to
search hers. “Afraid?” he asked, concern on his handsome face.
“A
little. I have never…” she trailed off, her limited Lakhota vocabulary
failing her.
He
looked at her with understanding, his eyes full of love and caring. “First
time?”
She
nodded, feeling a little shy.
He
smiled warmly. “We will go slowly, my love.” But his next action seemed
to belie his words. With a smooth motion, he lifted Kathryn’s buckskin dress
and pulled it over her head. Like all the Lakhota women, she wore nothing
underneath.
She
gasped and tried not to look distressed. “Maybe ‘slowly’ doesn’t mean
what I thought it did,” she thought to herself with irony. She began breathing
faster. Chakotay locked eyes with her with her and took her face in his hands.
Looking into his deep obsidian eyes calmed her – she did trust this man, with
her life and with the most precious gift she could give him.
He
kissed her deeply, tenderly, then moved to nuzzle her neck as his hands
unhurriedly journeyed along her shoulders, then down her arms. His mouth
followed in the wake, kissing and licking her shoulders. He slowly backed her
to his fur-covered bed, and lowered her gently down to it. He kneeled next to
her for a few moments, and for the first time let his gaze drink in her bared
body.
For
Kathryn, it was quite unnerving to be lying naked in front of a man for the
first time. She thought of the irony of the moment – for nearly three weeks,
she had indulged her eyes with a veritable feast of Chakotay’s nearly nude
body. Now, he was fully covered and she was the one revealed.
He
leaned over and cupped a breast, his thumb dawdling across its surface,
stopping to tease the nipple, already firmly erect from the chill of her
nakedness. Kathryn closed her eyes and smiled. Strangely, she felt less nervous
to have Chakotay’s warm hands on her than to have his heated gaze scrutinizing
her. It felt good, and she let out a little moan. He responded by leaning
further, to kiss her. The fringes of his buckskin shirt dragged across her
sensitive skin and tickled her, and she opened her eyes with a start and
giggled. He pulled back, a question in his eyes. She grasped some fringe in
each hand. “It tickles,” she said.
He
looked at her quizzically for a brief time, then nodded his understanding. He
sat back on his haunches and pulled the shirt over his head. Kathryn smiled
lustfully. Ahhh, this was much better. The sight of his smooth bronze skin
warmed her and her nerves began to abate once again. He leaned back over her
and returned his hand to the breast it had explored earlier, but he did not
move his lips to hers. Instead, she suddenly felt his mouth on her other
breast, and she pulled in a sharp breath. Ohhh, what a wonderful sensation.
Patrick had never put his mouth on her in this way. Without even realizing she
was doing it, she arched her back and pressed herself harder against his
sensuous touch. His tongue drew lazy circles around her, then flicked at the
hard nub. Then he engulfed her and began suckling as a baby would. Oh my! The
breathtaking feeling sent waves of pleasure rippling down her body, converging
on her intimate area and causing it to throb. She wrapped her hands around the
back of his head, keeping him at her breast, and unconsciously started to
undulate her hips against his leg. Her nerves were rapidly evaporating, flooded
out by the erotic feelings he was giving her.
Chakotay
shrugged off her hands and moved up to bestow another deep passionate kiss on
her mouth. He whispered words of love she couldn’t understand, then resumed
exploring her body with his hands and mouth. He licked a trail down through the
valley between her breasts, then kissed all around her belly, swirling his
tongue around her navel, tickling the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen.
And
then he kept going. Kathryn’s eyes grew wide and her nerves returned
full-force. Where was he headed? He was pushing her thighs apart, and settling
down between her legs. His strong hands were parting her coarse auburn curls,
and – oh god! His mouth was on her, his tongue dipping into her folds, creating
exquisite sensations that her mortification threatened to drown out. Not only
had Patrick never done anything like this, Kathryn had never even imagined it!
It was unthinkable! It was clearly a mortal sin! It was…it was…oh gods, it was
divine… He had moved to her hidden pearl, and was laving it steadily, and the
blissful feelings it engendered in her were far beyond what she or Patrick had
wrought with manual stimulation. Kathryn didn’t know whether it was the work of
heaven or the devil, but she no longer cared, as long as he just kept
doing…that.
She
began panting, heavier and harder, and writhing as if to escape the onslaught,
though that was the last thing she wanted right now. An intense sensation was
building in her, and just as she thought she could take no more, her body began
to vibrate and something exploded inside. It was as if fireworks were going off
within her, and she shook from head to toe, releasing a load moan as she did.
When
her body finally stilled, she looked down to see Chakotay looking back at her,
flashing his irresistible dimples in the most dazzling smile she had ever seen.
“You liked it?” he asked.
What
else could she say? He had seen the answer for himself, and it obviously meant
a lot to him to give her such pleasure. She didn’t care anymore if it was a
sin. “Yes, I liked it a lot.” She smiled back at him.
He
looked at her with intense desire, his playful smile turning into something
more…seductive. “There is more,” he said provocatively.
Oh
yes, thought Kathryn. There is much more. Then Chakotay stood and removed his
leggings, then his breech clout, and that which had been hidden was now
displayed in all its splendor. Her breath caught as she wondered how in the
world he could possibly fit inside her. She had heard that laying with a man
could be painful, especially the first time, and Chakotay seemed…big. Very big.
She
looked into his eyes and could see his tenderness and concern. He knew what she
was thinking. “Slowly, Shoshala. Slowly. Relax.” He lay back down beside
her, and leaned over to nuzzle her breast. His warm hand slid down to her curly
mound, and his fingers dipped into the abundant wetness there. Carefully, he worked
one large finger into her opening, gently stretching her. He began sucking on
her breast to distract her as he found her barrier and cautiously pushed
through it. Kathryn felt a pinching sensation, but it was quickly overcome by
Chakotay’s attentions to her swelling breast. He stilled his hand for a moment,
then resumed opening her, with two fingers, now three. There was no more pain,
and Kathryn began to push into his hand, wanting more, needing more. She spread
her legs as wide as she could.
He
pulled out his fingers and rubbed the moisture from them onto his throbbing
cock, then repeated the motion, thoroughly lubricating himself for her. He
positioned himself between her welcoming legs, and locked eyes with her as he
began to carefully push into her. Slowly, little by little, in and out, he
worked his hard length into her hot tight sheath, until finally he was fully
buried within her. He stilled for a moment. Kathryn looked at him expectantly,
overcome by the wonder of it all. Seeing no signs of discomfort, Chakotay began
to thrust more forcefully, taking long strokes as he penetrated her to her
depths. Her head fell back, her eyes closed, and her lips parted as she panted
with arousal. Chakotay could hold back no longer, and he slammed into her over
and over, pouring himself into her as she passionately clawed at his back and
wrapped her legs around his waist. Finally he felt her inner muscles tightening
around him, and with a few more thrusts he took them together over the brink.
/\/\/\/\/\
Shoshala
sat next to the fire ring in front of her tipi. She cradled her infant
daughter, who was suckling at her breast. Her young son danced around the fire
ring, imitating the chants he had heard the band’s warriors perform a few days
before as they prepared for a hunt.
She
looked up to see Chakotay approaching, just returned from hunting. She stood
and walked to meet him, as the boy ran to him and hugged him around the leg.
“Welcome
home, my husband,” she said as she kissed him.
“It
is good to be back, my wife. I never rest easy when we are apart,” he replied,
smiling a brilliant dimpled smile that few outside their family ever saw.
Life
was good.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Kathryn
Janeway yawned and stretched. Her fantasy, aided by the pain medicine that made
her addlepated, not to mention somewhat horny, had managed to occupy several
hours of her enforced seclusion – especially the wedding night scene, which she
played over and over in her mind. It was fortunate indeed that she was
quarantined. If she weren’t, Chakotay in the flesh would undoubtedly drop by to
check on her, and in her present state of mind…gods, Kathryn, don’t go there.
She replicated some soup and sat down to eat.
But
there was something missing from her daydream. It was…hmmm…too sappy; Chakotay
too noble – like he was in real life. Why not recast him with a little more
edge? Finishing her meal, she took another dose of her medication and commenced
creating another story of forbidden love…
The
End