Bad Maquis
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Summary: If she's going to play the game, she's playing to win.

 

Characters: Janeway, Chakotay

Codes:  Janeway/Chakotay

 

Disclaimer: Paramount should be held responsible for this in every way. Kidding.

Notes: Part of the Bad Ensign Stories collection, and a direct sequel to Curator’s Bad Ensign, sara_sedai’s Bad, Bad Crewman Janeway and Caladenia’s Not So Bad Tuvok, You'll need to read them first to understand the setup.

Rated M

The only thing more restrictive – and bosomy – than this outfit, Kathryn mused as she stared at her reflection, was her holodeck governess costume.

Still, at least she didn’t have to leave her quarters wearing this getup, and thank goodness for small mercies. Because she was on the verge of backing down from this challenge as it was, and Kathryn Janeway did not chicken out. Ever.

She thought about Tuvok, standing in her ready room coolly informing her that the Bad Ensign game was making a resurgence on Voyager, and – when she staidly agreed to chasten those playing it – that he knew full well she was one of the culprits. Embarrassment curdled her stomach. Maybe she should just call tonight off.

But then she’d never find out just how long she could hold out against Chakotay if he was trying – really, really trying – to seduce her.

Besides, if she reneged on the challenge, how would she be able to look him in the eye and claim her winning streak remained unbroken?

No. Her pride would not allow her to back out now.

And in any case, while she played the Starfleet captain every day, she’d rarely taken on the role of the captain in the game. And never had she played a Maquis before.

She thought about her padd-to-padd exchange with Chakotay earlier tonight.

“What would a female Maquis captain wear?”

“Lots of leather.”


Kathryn tilted her head to one side, once again contemplating her outfit. Well, it was leather, but she wouldn’t have said there was lots of it. Come to think of it, most of it was probably in the thigh-high boots.

Still, it wouldn’t be right to give him too much of an advantage, would it? She’d be forced to stand there, stoic and unmoved, while he had free rein to do who-knew-what to her. If she started to respond, he’d win. But if she could hold out just long enough for him to throw in the towel, she’d retain her untarnished record.

Well, untarnished aside from a Harry Kim-induced red alert, that was. And a first round with Chakotay that, thanks to Tuvok, had finished … prematurely.

But those didn’t count. And Kathryn had every confidence in her ability to resist Chakotay’s charms. She’d been doing it for four years, after all.

Smirking at her reflection, Kathryn tousled her hair, inched the zipper on her leather jacket down a few notches and sashayed out into the living room to dim the lights.

 

***


When the door chimed, she arranged herself in the centre of the room and called “Enter,” making sure her voice sounded harsh and authoritative.

Chakotay stepped inside wearing his Starfleet uniform and carrying a bottle of wine. His eyes widened when he saw her: arms crossed, legs planted, eyes hot and chin firm.

“Captain?” he asked, with a note of wonder, his gaze taking in the tight jacket and short skirt, lingering on the high-heeled boots.

“Well?” she demanded, hands moving to her hips. “Don’t just stand there, Crewman. You’re in enough trouble already.”

She had to give him credit: he was a quick study.

Stripping off his uniform jacket, he shoved the wine bottle onto the small table by the door and stepped up close to her. Very close.

“Have I done something wrong, Captain?” Chakotay asked her in a roughened tone. “Because I know sometimes I can be bad … a bad, bad … very bad crewman …”

Kathryn tipped her head back, refusing to allow her eyes to drift from his.

“And,” Chakotay went on, lifting one hand to toy with the zipper on her jacket, “although I don’t know what I’ve done wrong this time, Captain …”

His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, and she realised that her tongue had darted out to moisten them. She pressed them together, hoping he wouldn’t call her on it.

“… I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he all but purred as his other hand alighted on her shoulder.

Hell and damnation, she thought with a hard swallow as she stared up at him. His thumb was resting lightly against the thundering pulse in her throat, and from the way he was looking at her lips, she knew the slightest hint of a movement in his direction would end with his mouth on hers – or, she reminded herself, with him declaring victory with that unbearably smug, dimpled grin.

It was that thought that gave her the strength she needed.

“You don’t know what you’ve done wrong, Chakotay?” she growled, her voice like a bucket of iced water. “Think carefully.”

Doubt flickered in his eyes and she felt him draw back. “Captain, I –” he stammered, but then he stopped. Stepped away. Assessed her, eyes narrowed.

Kathryn didn’t move a muscle, didn’t blink. If he was truly uncertain whether she was playing the game, he’d call red alert and this would end here and now. But if he pressed on … maybe she’d get to feel his lips on hers, his hands on her body. Maybe more. She’d take as much as she could handle, even if it meant losing the game.

She found herself holding her breath, waiting to see which way he’d leap.

“Captain,” Chakotay said finally, that silken tone back in his voice, “I know I’ve been a very, very bad crewman … and I’m prepared to redeem myself however you see fit …”

He slid forward a step, and Kathryn’s teeth dug into her lower lip.

“I’m warning you, Crewman …” she husked.

Chakotay was pressed up against her now, moving her backward using the motion of his body. She stumbled a little on her stiletto heels and he caught her elbows, steadying her.

“You’re warning me, Captain?” he prompted.

“Uh, yes,” Kathryn had already lost her train of thought as he propelled her slowly backward, “if you don’t stop this right now, I’ll –”

Her back hit the wall, his hands spread over her waist, and his lips grazed the side of her neck. If she hadn't been gritting her teeth, Kathryn was sure she’d have moaned aloud. Staying silent and motionless while his full lips nuzzled her throat and his warm hands slid oh-so-slowly up under the edge of her jacket was next to impossible, and when he nudged his leg gently between hers, she was glad of the bulkhead behind her, providing much-needed support.

“If I don’t stop,” Chakotay murmured, lips trailing from her ear to the corner of her mouth, “you’ll what? Strip me of my rank and commission?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Maybe …”

Chakotay’s thumbs swept upward over the silky underside of her bra, and Kathryn’s stomach twisted with need.

“Throw me in the brig?” His lips hovered over hers now and the pads of his thumbs brushed the hard knots of her nipples.

If she lifted her chin a fraction, they’d be kissing … “Probably,” she forced out, trembling with the effort of remaining still.

But, oh God, she wanted to press against him. Especially when she felt the hard length of him against her hip. How would he feel if she spread her legs around him? How would he feel, pushing inside her?

He was talking again. “Would you toss me off the ship, all alone and behind enemy lines?”

Without waiting for her reply, Chakotay sank to his knees and spread his hands on her bare thighs, and Kathryn lost her breath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Stay in character, Kathryn reminded herself sharply. A Maquis captain wouldn’t yelp like that.

“I’ve been so bad,” he murmured. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and she couldn’t tell how much of that was down to the dim, candlelit room and how much was arousal. “I’ve caused you nothing but trouble since the day we met.”

His fingertips caressed her thighs just beneath the hem of her short leather skirt. It took all her willpower not to shift her stance.

Though she wasn’t sure whether she’d have moved away from those stroking fingers, or opened her legs to encourage them.

“That’s right,” she managed. “You’re my most difficult crewman.”

Chakotay’s thumbs were circling now, softly, higher and higher. He was looking up at her like a man starved, like she was his wildest dream come to life.

She felt her legs start to shake and knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. Any moment now, his fingers would brush the edge of her panties and he’d feel how wet she was. She wondered if he’d consider that a victory, and almost laughed at herself. How much evidence did she think he needed to claim his win?

“I deserve to be punished,” Chakotay rumbled, “but I swear I’ll make up for it.”

“How,” she licked her lips, “exactly, do you propose to do that, Crewman?”

“By making you feel …” a dimple appeared in one cheek, “so, so good ...”

Kathryn stared down at him.

His smile widened, and he ducked his head slightly.

“And believe me, Captain,” there was a choked, strained sound to his voice, as though he was barely holding himself in check, “I’m so very, very good at – at being bad…”

His words trailed off in barely repressed snicker.

She couldn’t help it. A giggle trickled out of her like water escaping a badly dammed river.  She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Chakotay huffed out a chuckle, Kathryn snorted, and in moments the pair of them had collapsed to the floor, helpless with laughter.

Kathryn wasn’t sure at what point she realised her legs had tangled with Chakotay’s, or that her face was pressed into the crook of his neck, or that she was half-sitting, half-lying over him. Gradually, though, she became aware that he wasn’t laughing anymore.

Nor was he touching her – at least, not on purpose. Not like he had been.

She braced herself with one hand on the floor, pushing the hair from her face with the other. Her movement made him draw a sharp breath and she looked at him curiously. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I guess we can agree to call this one a draw,” he muttered.

“A draw?” Kathryn cocked her head, trying to read his mood. “Oh, I don’t think so, Crewman. As I recall, you cracked first. That means you forfeit.”

Chakotay passed a hand over his eyes, smiling faintly. “You’re the captain.”

“Yes, I am.” She shifted again, and again he shuddered. This time she realised why: she was sprawled half-over him with her thigh wedged firmly between his, and each time she wriggled, her hip bumped up against the erection he was attempting to hide.

Kathryn wriggled again, deliberately this time, biting her lip as she looked him straight in the eyes. His darkened, the pupils blowing out wide and black.

Then his hand shot out and encircled her wrist, yanking her off-balance, her body falling against his chest.

“Game over, Kathryn,” Chakotay drawled. “You lose.”

“How do you figure that?” she asked, breathless.

His other hand spread over her lower back, pressing her against him. “Because you just tried to turn the tables on me. You can’t tell me that move you just made wasn’t a sign of affection.”

“But you said it yourself, Chakotay.” Kathryn dragged her gaze down to his lips, watching them part in anticipation. “The game is already over. And I win. Again.”

With a gritted, incomprehensible curse, Chakotay wrapped his arms tightly about her shoulders and hips, flipped her over onto her back, and locked his mouth eagerly with hers.

She had kissed him before, just last week, in fact, when she’d played the bad crewman to his captain. But this was entirely, deliciously different, because this time he wasn’t trying to remain stoic and unaffected. This time he was kissing her back, and oh, she thought while thinking was still possible, the man could kiss

And he wasn’t stopping there.

Her thighs were spread around his, the short leather skirt bunched up around her hips as his hand slid hotly up, up and around to trace the curve of her behind. His other hand tangled gently in her hair, stroked her face as he nipped and licked and tasted her lips, and smoothed a path down to the zipper of her jacket, nestled in her cleavage. He toyed with it, gave a questioning, experimental tug, and Kathryn, impatient, batted his hand away, yanked down the zipper herself, then arched her breasts into his willing hand.

“Kathryn,” he whispered thickly, the prayer of a man who wasn’t willing to believe his luck, “if this is part of the game, you need to tell me before we go too far …”

“I’m done playing games,” she husked back at him. “Chakotay, look at me.”

Her hands loosened from where they’d been clenched into the back of his turtleneck, drifting to curl on the carpet above her head: a submissive position, one of surrender.

“Do you really think I’d wear this outfit for anybody else?” she asked him. “Hell, do you think I’d play Bad Ensign with anyone else? That game might have half the ship behaving like sex-crazed cadets, but …” she bit her lip, grinning, “maybe it provided me with the perfect pretext.”

He studied her, his full lips quirking up at the corner. “So, you think you’ve been in control of the game this whole time?”

“Of course.” Kathryn wriggled under his slowly stroking fingers, reaching up to trace the outline of his jaw and smiling as he turned his face against her palm. “But if you play nicely, there’s no reason we can’t both come out winners.”

Chakotay kissed her again, hands roaming, body pressed tight to hers, and Kathryn clutched at him, locking her ankles behind his back and returning the kiss with fervour. The next thing she knew she was weightless, airborne, the blood rushing from her head as Chakotay swung her into his arms.

“What are you doing –”

“Playing nicely,” Chakotay managed between kisses as he strode toward the bedroom.

 

***


Kathryn lay with her head on Chakotay’s chest, her arm curled around his torso and a smile on her lips as his fingers combed lazily, gently through her hair.

“Can I ask you a question?” she murmured.

“Depends,” Chakotay said. Kathryn could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you going to hold the answer against me?”

She slapped his chest lightly. “How far would you have taken the game?"

“Honestly?” He paused. “I threw the game, Kathryn.”

“You did not!” She sat up, letting the sheet fall away, one finger under his chin to return his attention to her face. “Eyes up here, mister. Explain yourself.”

“I couldn’t be sure you were really prepared to play the game to the end. I was half-expecting you to throw me out of your quarters at any moment, and I didn’t want to risk our friendship or our command relationship over a silly challenge.”

“I could have called for a red alert,” she pointed out.

Chakotay’s eyes widened. “That didn’t occur to me.”

“And that,” she said triumphantly, taking his hands and pulling them onto her body, “is why my winning streak remains unbroken.”

He laughed. “You would’ve made a fine Maquis, Kathryn.”

A wicked smile spread over her face as she straddled him, encouraging the exploratory movements of his fingers over her breasts.

“Are you sure about that, Chakotay?” she asked, lowering her voice to a sultry purr as she traced circles on his chest with her fingertip. “Because I think I’ve been bad … a very, very bad Maquis …”

An answering grin bloomed on Chakotay’s lips. He crossed his hands behind his head, sinking comfortably into the sheets as Kathryn bent to nip at his chest.

“Seems to me we never finished the game the first time around,” he growled, “so why don’t you show me just how bad you can be?”