Bound

Summary: Captains have needs, just like everybody else. Even Vulcans agree. And this captain is lucky enough to have a very attentive, very capable first officer.

 

Characters: Janeway, Chakotay

Codes: Janeway/Chakotay

 

Disclaimer: Paramount/CBS own the Star Trek franchise, but what the characters do in the privacy of their own quarters, ready rooms or holodecks is their own business.

 

Notes: Set late in Season 3. This story is about sex. Lots and lots of sex. Some of the sex may not be your cup of tea, so please heed the warning.

 

Warning: Kinky stuff within. If you don’t like reading about consenting adults getting up to no good, you should probably read something else.

Rated E

Chapter Two: Discipline

 

Day 4, 1230 hours, Upper Engineering station

 

 

“Screw this fucking useless piece of shit!”

 

Regretting her outburst, B’Elanna Torres immediately sends her captain an apologetic glance. “Excuse me, Captain.”

 

Kathryn barely raises an eyebrow. “Carry on, Lieutenant. I was quite enjoying the expansion of my Klingon vocabulary until now.”

 

B’Elanna huffs out a breath. “Sometimes even Klingon doesn’t cut it. I don’t understand this, Captain. The malfunctions seem to be completely random – the armory hatch controls, the EPS relays on Deck 14, the stellar cartography imagers. I can’t pinpoint the problem and it’s occurring in systems that should be sufficiently segregated from each other.”

 

“Well, taking out your frustrations on the analysis console probably won’t help much,” Kathryn says mildly.

 

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just –” B’Elanna breaks off on a sigh, and Kathryn looks more closely at her.

 

“You’re exhausted, Lieutenant,” she notes. “How long have you been on duty?”

 

“I pulled an all-nighter,” the younger woman admits. “I couldn’t sleep knowing we’ve got system-wide failures and I’m too stupid to figure out why.”

 

“You’re hardly stupid.” Kathryn puts down her caliper. “Go get yourself some lunch, B’Elanna. You need a break, and frankly, so does that console.” She smiles to take the sting out of her words.

 

“Aye, Captain.” B’Elanna manages a half-smile in return. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

 

“Make it an hour,” Kathryn calls after her. “And knock off early tonight as well. Don’t think I won’t check your duty logs.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” floats back toward her as B’Elanna swings her way down the ladder to the main Engineering level. She hears her greet someone entering Engineering just as she leaves, but her attention is already refocused on the fiddly adjustment she’s making to the secondary plasma node.

 

It’s not until she feels someone observing her that she realises the newcomer is standing directly behind her. She backs out from under the console and swivels, crouching, finding herself facing a pair of black-clad thighs. Gazing upwards, she looks into the amused face of her first officer.

 

“Chakotay. What are you doing here?”

 

“I was enjoying the view,” he returns, holding out a hand to help her upright. His other hand comes up to her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheekbone.

 

“Not here,” she hisses.

 

“You had grease on your face.” His expression turns sly. “And if not here, where? We’re alone.”

 

Kathryn glances around the upper Engineering level and concedes that he’s right. However – “Maybe we need to refine those parameters,” she says, keeping her voice low. “This – arrangement should stay confined to private holodeck time.”

 

Chakotay shifts closer to her, backing her up against the console. “Some rules were made to be broken, Kathryn.” His hand slides down around her throat, his thumb tipping her chin up. His lips are very close to hers as he whispers, “And I told you I’d give you what you need from this arrangement. Sometimes that means you won’t be the one setting parameters.”

 

She flushes, unable to deny the thrill that runs through her at his boldness. He bends to take her lips and she brings her hands up to flatten on his chest, holding him at bay. “Not. Here.”

 

He grins, easing back. “It’s been three days since I touched you, Kathryn. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re as interested as I am in a repeat performance. I have Holodeck Two booked for two hours from 2100.” Chakotay lets his hand fall from her throat and takes a step back. “See you there.”

 

She wants to decline, just to put a dent in that smug self-assurance of his, but her body is loudly informing her that he’s exactly what it wants, right now. So she bites her lower lip and gives a short nod.

 

“Good.” He watches her speculatively for a moment, then steps forward again. “Just a taste,” he murmurs, and dips his head to nip lightly at her neck, just above her captain’s pips. Kathryn sucks in a breath, but before she can shove him away he’s moving back from her.

 

“2100 hours, Captain. Don’t be late.”

 

“I’m never late,” she retorts. “And you’d better make it worth my while.”

 

Chakotay laughs as he climbs down the ladder, and Kathryn turns back to the console, satisfied at having got in the last word.

 

=/\=

 

2100 hours, Holodeck Two

 

 

She’d expected to step into an outdoorsy scene, something with wide-open grassy spaces or perhaps a forest glade with a stream winding through it. When she thinks of Chakotay – and she thinks of him more often than she should - it’s often in a setting like that.

 

Instead, the holodeck doors open into a shadowy chamber. French doors stand ajar on the far side of the room; translucent drapes prevent her from seeing what’s on the other side of them, but her attention is drawn instead to the tall candelabra flanking the doors, candle flames guttering slightly in the breeze. There’s a bureau along one wall, a closed door set into the other. From where she stands, squinting into the near-darkness, it appears that the only other furniture is a single hard-backed chair, placed in the centre of the room.

 

“Chakotay?” she calls warily as she steps inside. The holodeck doors close behind her with an echoing clang that feels like finality.

 

She wonders why she’s suddenly nervous.

 

Chakotay steps through the French doors – perhaps a balcony on the other side? she wonders – and rests his hands on the back of the chair. He’s dressed in black from neck to toe. He looks … dangerous, she decides.

 

“Hello, Kathryn.”

 

Kathryn ratchets her chin up a notch. “Interesting program, Chakotay. What are we supposed to do now?”

 

“That’s for me to know,” he replies. He lets his gaze travel over her from head to foot, taking in the loose hip-length tunic, leggings and slip-on shoes she’s wearing. “Nice outfit. Not quite what I had in mind, though.”

 

“Oh?” She gives him a low-intensity glare. “What did you have in mind?”

 

Chakotay jerks his head toward the closed door she’d noticed earlier. “You’ll find everything you need in there. You have five minutes.”

 

Her jaw drops and she draws in a breath, but his voice cracks out before she can speak.

 

“Do as I say.”

 

“Or what?” she challenges, hands coming up to her hips.

 

Chakotay moves so fast she barely sees him coming. She feels it, though. That iron grip, holding her wrists in front of her as he stares down at her, his body close.

 

“Do you want to find out what happens when you disobey me, Kathryn?”

 

She finds her breath is coming faster, her body leaning toward him, but she’s not ready to give in so easily.

 

“Disobey you?” She injects derision into her tone. “Have we forgotten who’s in charge around here, Commander?”

 

He leans in and speaks directly into her ear, his low voice making her shiver. “Not for a moment, Kathryn.”

 

And before she can so much as breathe, he steps backward, jerking her with him. He sits on the chair, pulls her face-down over his spread knees, yanks down her leggings and underwear and cracks his hand down, hard, on her naked behind.

 

She yells out in shock, her body jolting with pain and surprise. His palm comes down a second time and she can’t stop herself yelping again. But by the third smack she’s expecting it, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out. A fourth blow, a fifth, and her ass is burning, tears of shame and anger prickling her eyes, but she makes no more sound than a hiss. If his hand wasn’t holding her wrists in such a punishing grip, if her soft-soled shoes could only find purchase on the floor, she’d be able to escape –

 

His hand comes down again, but this time his touch is gentle, fingertip-light, soothing her scalded flesh.

 

“I’ve always loved your ass, Kathryn,” he says almost conversationally. “But you know that, don’t you? You know I watch you when you walk in front of me or bend over Paris’ shoulder at the conn. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined just walking over, pushing you face down and pulling down your pants so I can put my hands on you?”

 

He traces small patterns on her buttocks and she finds herself pushing slightly against his hand, her thighs relaxing outward. Her skin is so sensitised that even his light, indirect touch is making her pulse pick up and her body grow warm.

 

“Your skin is so white,” he goes on. “Of course, it’s quite rosy at the moment. I like seeing the imprint of my hand standing out on that pale skin. Like a brand, showing the world that you’re mine.”

 

“Fuck. You,” she manages from between gritted teeth.

 

“All in good time.” His fingers wander between her cheeks, spreading her open, and she gasps. She knows he’s noticed when he continues, “I wonder if you’ve ever been taken here?” His fingertip dips and presses and she can’t suppress a moan. “Have you, Kathryn?”

 

She clamps her mouth shut. And then his palm comes down again, crack, and she groans. This time, though, as her body shakes with the quickly-flaring pain, she realises to her own shame and horror that she’s pressing upward into his spread fingers. Her legs have opened further of their own volition, and the moisture that’s been gathering between them since before she entered the holodeck has virtually become a flood.

 

This cannot be turning me on, she thinks in disbelief. But he spanks her again and this time the sound that comes out of her mouth is a whimper.

 

Chakotay hears it, and his fingers stroke down between her buttocks again, and lower, testing her wetness. “Like a little rough treatment, do you, Kathryn?” She can hear the grin in his voice. “That’s interesting.”

 

“Let me go,” she rasps, defiant, “and I’ll show you rough treatment.”

 

He laughs. “Well, that sounds intriguing, and maybe we’ll play it your way another time. But not tonight.”

 

He strokes a finger between her labia, gathering her liquid and spreading it up between her cheeks, wringing a gasp from her. “Now, I asked you a question,” he says, one finger pressing insistently against the puckered entrance as she tries hard not to wriggle away – or wriggle toward it. “Has anyone ever had you here?”

 

She sets her jaw mulishly.

 

He smacks her again, making her shudder and suck in air. “Answer me,” he orders, and he pushes his finger a little further into her and she moans, pressing helplessly into his touch.

 

“Tell me, Kathryn.”

 

Kathryn’s face burns and she hangs her head. “Yes,” she whispers.

 

“And did you like it?”

 

A pause, then, “Yes.”

 

“Good to know.”

 

Chakotay tugs her upright and lays one last, patronising pat on her bare ass. “Go get changed, now.”

 

Furious, shaking, incredibly aroused, she yanks her leggings up over her stinging, reddened behind and shuffles toward the door.

 

=/\=

 

The room behind the door is empty except for an ornate wardrobe and a full-length mirror. Kathryn opens the wardrobe; a single piece of clothing hangs inside. She pulls it out and her eyes widen.

 

Before she even puts it on, she can tell this flimsy excuse for a dress isn’t going to cover much of anything. The outfit she’d been laced into that final night on Latavan was a Victorian nightshirt in comparison to this.

 

She pulls off her tunic and leggings, folding them neatly on top of her shoes in a corner of the room, and holds the dress up against herself, over her bra and panties. A glance in the mirror informs her that they’ll have to go as well. Evading the excitement reflected back to her from her own eyes, she tugs off her underwear and tosses it atop her discarded pile of clothes, steps into the dress, shakes out her hair and turns back to the mirror.

 

The dress is made of a silver mesh so fine it’s almost transparent. The bodice, such as it is, hangs from slender straps and dips almost to her navel; when she turns to view the back, she sees that it dips even lower, only the shoestring straps criss-crossing over her back holding it on. The skirt is shorter than an early ‘Fleet uniform. One false move in this outfit and she’ll be exposing a whole lot more than the parts of her Chakotay’s already had his way with tonight.

 

At least this time, she reflects, it’ll only be for an audience of one.

 

No shoes have been provided, so she straightens her shoulders and steps barefoot through the door.

 

“You’ve made some changes,” she remarks, looking around.

 

Chakotay sits on the same chair as before, but beside him now is a low table bearing a bottle of wine and two glasses, one of which he picks up to sip from as he regards her. The bureau has been replaced by a lit fireplace with a thick rug in front of it, and there’s a large, flat cushion at his feet.

 

“So have you.” He looks her up and down, slowly, appreciatively. “It’s a shame you don’t dress like that every day.”

 

She cocks one hip. “And just where would I keep my phaser?”

 

He grins.

 

Kathryn walks toward him carefully, not trusting the dress to stay where she’s placed it as she moves. “What now?”

 

He indicates the second glass. “Wine?”

 

“Thank you.” She bends to take it cautiously, not missing the gleam in his eye as her bodice gapes open.

 

“Have a seat.”

 

Kathryn glances around. “Where, exactly?”

 

“It’s your choice.” Chakotay sips again, watching her. “You can sit on my knee, or kneel at my feet.”

 

Her eyes flash. “Not much of a choice, Commander.”

 

“I imagine your ass is still a little tender,” he smirks. “I suggest kneeling.”

 

Her hands go to her hips, a move she quickly reverses when the dress shifts across her torso. “I am not going to kneel to you.”

 

“What, you’ll only do that for diplomacy?” His eyebrows arch. “I could insist.”

 

“But you won’t.” Her voice holds a dangerous edge.

 

Chakotay observes her for a moment, then inclines his head, placing his wineglass on the side table. “For now. Come here.”

 

She walks toward him, her eyes suspicious. When she’s near enough he takes the glass from her hand and tugs her between his legs. She tries to hide her trembling as he circles both wrists in his fingers and folds them gently behind her back.

 

“Hold still.”

 

He keeps hold of her wrists until she gives him a brief nod, then releases them, shifting his hands onto her hips. He caresses her hipbones lightly for a moment, then sweeps his palms up over her ribs, his thumbs tucking into the sides of her dress.

 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his voice almost conversational.

 

At her instinctive flinch of denial, he firms his grip and looks up into her face.

 

“You are,” he repeats. “Whether you’re in uniform or a dress like this or wearing nothing at all, you take my breath away.”

 

She shifts uneasily and her hands start to drop from behind her back.

 

“Don’t move,” he clips out, and she stills. “Put your hands back and keep them there until I tell you otherwise.”

 

Slowly, she obeys.

 

“Good.” Still watching her face, he lets his fingers slip further into the low-cut sides of her dress, encircling her breasts with fingers and thumbs. Kathryn sucks in a breath, splaying her bare toes on the hardwood floor for balance. “You’re beautiful,” Chakotay says again, quietly.

 

She bites her lip.

 

“Have I ever lied to you, Kathryn?”

 

His thumbs brush over her nipples and she shivers. “No.”

 

“Then you know you can believe what I’m telling you.”

 

Kathryn chooses her words carefully. “I – appreciate that you believe it.”

 

“Not good enough.” He pinches her nipples sharply and she gasps. “We’ll work on how you see yourself. But first we need to work on you trusting me.”

 

“I do trust you.” She meets his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here with you – like this – if I didn’t.”

 

“Fair point.” Chakotay moves his hands onto the outside of her dress, stroking her breasts gently through the fabric. She closes her eyes, leaning into the sensation. “A week ago I’d never have imagined you would let me touch you like this. But how far does that trust go, Kathryn?”

 

“What do you mean?” Her voice hitches as his hands slide back down to her hips and he begins to gather the fabric of her skirt in his fingers, drawing the material higher up her thighs.

 

“You’re used to being in control,” he answers. “You’re responsible for making first contact with alien species and for how Starfleet and the Federation are perceived in this quadrant. You’re responsible for the survival of this ship and crew, from procuring the supplies we need to continue on our journey to keeping the faith that we’ll get home. There’s never a moment when you don’t carry that weight, Kathryn. Never a moment when you can let it all go and just be.” His hands rest lightly on her bared thighs as he gazes up at her. “Let me take some of the burden for you.”

 

She blinks against the prickle behind her eyes. “You do, Chakotay. Every day. I rely on you for so much and I barely give you a word of thanks.”

 

“I don’t need you to thank me, Kathryn,” he says softly. “I just need you to let me in.”

 

“How?” she whispers.

 

“Give me control,” he answers, and at her questioning look, “just for tonight. Let me do this for you.”

 

She doesn’t understand, really. But she does trust him, and so she nods.

 

Chakotay rises to his feet, takes her hands from behind her back, and walks her backwards to the rug laid before the fireplace. She curls her toes into its thick nap, feels the warmth of the holographic fire at her back. Chakotay releases her hands.

 

“Close your eyes.”

 

She obeys. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

“The first thing I’m going to do is kiss you.”

 

His hand cradles her face, tilting it upward, and she parts her lips in anticipation. His mouth is warm, the touch of his lips on hers light and teasing, and she sighs in pleasure as his tongue tangles with hers. When she tries to deepen the contact he pulls away, and at her small sound of disappointment he rests his thumb on her lips.

 

“From now on,” he murmurs, leaning in so close his mouth brushes her ear, “you’ll do exactly as I say, and you won’t make a sound unless I give you direct permission.”

 

“But –”

 

The harsh snap of his hand coming down on her barely-clad buttock makes her yelp and jerk, her eyes springing open, and she automatically reaches back to rub at it, still smarting from his earlier paddling. “Chakotay, what –”

 

Crack goes his hand on the other cheek, and she hisses, both at the pain and the humiliation of her excitement beginning to build again. This time, however, she clamps her lips shut.

 

“Good. You’re learning.” Chakotay steps back. “Keep your eyes closed and your hands behind your back.”

 

She obeys, winding her fingers together tightly, needing the reassurance of her own body, the knowledge that she’s tangible, substantial, present. She senses the movement of air as he circles her. Not knowing where – or how – he’s going to touch her next, she feels exposed and aroused and just a little frightened.

 

The touch of his mouth on her naked shoulder makes her start, and he places a hand on her waist to assist her balance.

 

“You asked what I’m going to do to you,” Chakotay says, sucking lightly on the outer edge of her collarbone. “I’m going to put my hands and mouth on every inch of you. I’m going to stroke you and lick you and kiss you until you’re so desperate to come that you beg me to finish you off.”

 

By the time he stops talking in favour of using his mouth on the hollow of her throat, she’s already tensing, trembling with anticipation at the pictures his words are creating for her. His lips trace a meandering path around the column of her neck, his hand burns into the skin at her waist, and she twists her fingers into each other to stop herself from reaching for him.

 

The hand at her waist smooths upward, long fingers spreading across her ribcage, stroking her skin through the fabric of her dress. Gradually his fingers move upward, his knuckles brushing the underside of her breast. She bites her lip, leaning into his touch.

 

“You want my hands on your breasts, don’t you, Kathryn? I can see your nipples poking through that dress you’re wearing. They’re standing up, begging me to suck them.”

 

His hot mouth closes over one nipple but instead of sucking he closes his teeth over it, and she gasps, the sharp almost-pain sending an arrow of lust directly to her clitoris. He soothes it with his tongue, laving her through the dress.

 

“Chakotay –”

 

A sharp slap to her buttock reminds her to stay silent, and she clamps her mouth closed.

 

“If you speak again without my consent,” he twists her other nipple between his fingers, “I’ll stop. Understand? You can answer.”

 

“Please don’t stop,” she blurts.

 

“All right.” His fingers stroke lightly over her breast, circling her aching nipple. “And Kathryn?”

 

She waits.

 

“You’re forbidden to come until I give you permission.”

 

Her eyes spring open, her jaw drops, and his hand cracks on her backside again.

 

Eyes closed.”

 

She squeezes them shut. Between the light touch of his fingers on her breast and the white pain of her smacked behind, her muscles are quivering with tension. She’s so turned on she’s already hanging by a thread, and obeying his most recent command seems impossible.

 

And when his other hand skates along the inside of her thigh it takes everything she has to stop her knees from buckling.

 

He strokes her thigh lightly, his touch never reaching quite where she wants it to go, humming as she whimpers and squirms. “You’re soaked, Kathryn,” he says approvingly. “If I put my face between your legs I could drown in you.”

 

She moans, the sound almost pitiful in its depth of need. A few moments more of this, a slightly more direct touch, and she’ll –

 

“Don’t come,” Chakotay reminds her sharply and she bites down on a sob. He takes pity on her, moving his hand away, pressing it flat to her belly instead.

 

“I can feel how close you are,” his voice is almost a growl. “You’re so tense, and I can feel you fluttering and twitching. Do you want to come, Kathryn?”

 

She opens her mouth to answer and remembers, just in time, that he hasn’t given her permission. Her lips clamp shut.

 

“Good girl.” There’s a smile in his voice. His hands curve over her hips. “You can barely stand up, can you? You’re so ready I could probably make you climax just by breathing on you in the right place.”

 

Kathryn twists her hands together behind her back and lets her head drop forward. Her breath comes in short, harsh gusts.

 

“Where should I breathe on you?” Chakotay asks. “Here” – he lets his lips hover over her collarbone, “here” – his mouth pauses over her nipple, and it takes everything she has not to push herself forward, “or here?” and he blows a stream of warm air between her parted thighs.

 

The sound that escapes her is a tortured whine, and he laughs gently.

 

“Don’t worry, Kathryn. I’ll let you come – eventually.”

 

His hands curve around to stroke her ass. The mesh dress rasps lightly over the heated, stinging skin and she hisses through her teeth, but it’s a reprieve of sorts; enough to pull her back from the brink.

 

A memory flashes unexpectedly into her fevered mind: Mark, grinning at her across a restaurant table as his fingers probed deliciously inside her underwear. She’d been on shore leave after the first long mission she’d taken since they started dating, and she’d wanted him more than her next breath. She remembers how shocked he’d been initially when she pulled his hand there, how he’d glanced furtively around to be sure they weren’t being watched, and how his misgivings had evaporated as her liquid gathered on his fingers. She’d climaxed silently, gritting her teeth and clamping her thighs together, trying desperately to control the arching of her back. They hadn’t made it home before she couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside her – hadn’t even made it to the hovercar. He’d fucked her against the wall of an alley, and it had been the hottest sex they ever had.

 

She wonders, briefly, why they never did anything like that again… but really, she knows. For him it was a once in a lifetime experience. For her, it had been her first taste of a heady sexual banquet she’d wanted to explore over and over again.

 

She wonders how Chakotay knows this about her, and what else he intends to show her. The shiver that ripples through her at that thought almost sends her over the edge.

 

“Easy,” Chakotay murmurs, noticing. His hands hold her steady, and Kathryn bites down on her lower lip, wrestling back her control.

 

“Lie down and raise your arms above your head.”

 

Her legs fold beneath her immediately, her arms lifting. She lays one wrist over the other and waits.

 

“Spread your legs,” he orders, and she does so instantly. She’s beyond all propriety or shame; she just wants him to make her come. Now. Hard.

 

“Remember the rules,” he says, and then she feels the swipe of his tongue against the mesh fabric between her spread legs. He holds her steady with hands on her hips as he licks at her through the dress, her pelvis twisting to press closer, wrench away. She’s hanging on by a thread, and he pulls back to give her a moment. But when his mouth returns to her, there’s no fabric between them. He sucks at her bare flesh, and surely he can’t hold her responsible for the strangled “please!” that rips from her throat?

 

“God, your taste,” he murmurs. “You have no idea what you do to me, Kathryn. I could eat you for days.”

 

His tongue circles slowly around her clitoris and she jolts, the first wave of orgasm beginning to pulse through her.

 

“Shh,” he says, pressing a flat hand low on her belly, and it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done but she manages to tame the clenching of her inner muscles. She lies limp and panting, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

 

“Look at me,” Chakotay bids her, and she opens her eyes to find him crouched between her spread thighs, watching her face.

 

His hand slides upward over her abdomen, tucking in under the low V of her dress, warm fingers stroking her naked breast. Kathryn arches into his touch.

 

“Your skin is so impossibly smooth,” he tells her, holding her gaze. “So creamy and soft, and your freckles are like gold dust.”

 

She squirms uncomfortably.

 

“Stop that,” he says gruffly. “You’re going to listen to me, Kathryn, and believe what I’m telling you. Understand?”

 

Hesitantly, she nods.

 

He nudges her dress aside, exposing her breast. “Look at yourself,” he murmurs, the tips of his fingers trailing over her nipple. “Your breasts are perfect. Round and high, and your nipples are so pert they’re just begging to be sucked.”

 

She watches as he leans in, taking her nipple in his mouth, and can’t stifle her groan as his tongue swirls over it. He sucks, nips, and she lets her head fall back, her fingers gripping each other above her head.

 

“Beautiful,” his voice is muffled against her skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

 

He looks up at her face and catches her biting her lip.

 

“You still don’t understand, do you?” he asks softly. He shifts back to sit on his heels, hands on her waist, and drags her against his body. She feels him, hot and hard between her naked thighs, and can’t help pressing closer.

 

More than anything, she wishes he were naked so that he could slide right into her –

 

“Not yet,” he reads her mind. “I just wanted you to know what you do to me. Every time I see you, Kathryn, every time I hear your voice or smell your perfume, every time I think about you, this is how you affect me.”

 

His hips roll against her, leaving her in no doubt about her effect on him, and she sucks in a breath.

 

“I thought it was bad before,” he says conversationally as he pushes the dress up to her waist and his fingers spread over her stomach, thumbs rubbing gently below her navel, “when I could only imagine you like this. Just your laugh or the tilt of your chin could fuel my fantasies for days. I’d look at your hands when I sat beside you on the bridge and imagine them touching me, and I’d have to excuse myself to my office.”

 

She blinks up at him and realises he’s smiling.

 

“Yes, I know how often that happened. Believe me, taking care of matters on my own was better than the alternative. Do you have any idea how often I’ve wanted to drop down in front of your command chair and bury my face between your legs?”

 

Kathryn gasps, the visual so evocative she can’t help canting her hips against him.

 

“And now that I’ve seen you, touched you, been inside you,” he thrusts gently back at her, “it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you…”

 

A small frown creases her brow, and he intuits the reason immediately.

 

“Don’t misunderstand me, Captain,” he emphasises her title lightly, “nothing could compromise my respect for you, and I’m still perfectly able to do my duty. Unless you think otherwise?”

 

She thinks about the past few days since their encounter on Latavan: the way he’s shown perfect professionalism on the bridge, performed all the varied and onerous tasks of his job without fail, even the way he’d backed off that morning in Engineering when she was worried they’d be discovered. He’s right, she realises. Their working relationship remains intact.

 

A knot she hadn’t even realised had formed inside her chest loosens, and her limbs relax. She smiles.

 

“Good,” he smiles back. “I promise you, that won’t change.”

 

His eyes darken again as his thumbs dip lower on her belly.

 

“Beautiful,” he repeats, voice thick. “Look at how white your skin is, how slender your hips are. My hands look so big and dark on your body.”

 

She looks down the length of her body as his fingers curl around her hips and catches her breath at the contrast.

 

His thumbs glide through her pubic hair, glistening with her moisture, and he shuffles backward, lying belly-down to press his lips to her inner thigh. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “Is it just because you like to be touched, Kathryn? Or is it for me? You can speak.”

 

She has to swallow twice to make her voice work. “It’s you,” she husks. “You do this to me. You make me feel like this. Every. Damned. Day.”

 

He makes a sound, a growl crossed with a groan, and surges forward to press his open mouth to her. His tongue sweeps inside her, swipes upward over her clit, he sucks at her hard and she screams, jolting her hips against his face. And just as she’s about to tip over the edge into what promises to be a blinding, toe-curling, nerve-shattering orgasm, he pulls away.

 

Chakotay!” She’s almost crying. “God, please, please let me come!”

 

“Begging, Kathryn?” there’s a rough edge to his voice that tells her he’s not quite as in control as he seems.

 

“Yes, damn it, if that’s what it takes, I’m begging you!” She sobs, desperate, fingers clutching the rug above her head, her insides rippling and clenching at empty space. “Put your mouth on me, put your cock inside me, I don’t care, I just need you now!”

 

Fuck,” the word is wrenched out of him, and he thrusts three fingers inside her and fits his mouth around her clitoris, sucking hard, and she shrieks, her hips twisting off the floor and her legs shaking as finally, finally, she orgasms in a burst of ecstasy so fierce it’s almost painful.

 

He guides her through the shockwaves as she writhes and screams and moans, his fingers and tongue slowing as her shudders calm to whimpering, twitching tremors, and when she finally lies limp and still with his fingers still moving gently inside her, she realises her face is wet with tears.

 

“Kathryn,” he says hoarsely and she blinks up at him, her chest still heaving, and reads the desperate need on his face. Her inner muscles clench around his fingers and she gasps, her desire spiraling again.

 

“Now, Chakotay,” she rasps. “I need you inside me now.”

 

He yanks his T-shirt over his head and rips open his fly and grabs her by the hips, hauling her onto him, her back flat on the floor and pelvis lifted. Without further delay he positions himself at her entrance and lunges into her, his groan as he slides home the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.

 

“Kathryn,” he grinds out, “so hot … God, your cunt … so fucking tight –”

 

Not so eloquent now, she manages to think, a shocked laugh bubbling up inside her and bursting into waves of fizzing sparks as he thrusts and grinds and grunts, driving her relentlessly into another clenching, gripping climax. Her howl as she comes apart around him pulls him over the brink with her, his head dropping back as he spurts inside her, yelling through gritted teeth.

 

He bows his head, breathing hard, and she slumps boneless on the floor, her body twitching.

 

“God,” she says shakily, unclasping her fingers from the rug. His fingers release her hips and he shifts, slipping out of her, the wet friction making her shiver and gasp. “Don’t go just yet,” she murmurs, meeting his eyes, and he smiles.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He splays his hands over the hollows of her hips, thumbs stroking the outer edges of her labia. “Computer, what’s the time?”

 

~The time is 2220.~

 

“We have forty minutes,” Chakotay’s smile widens. “Good, because I haven’t finished with you yet.”

 

His thumbs stroke inward, one dipping inside her, one circling her tender clitoris, and Kathryn wriggles and hisses. “Too much –”

 

“Turn over.”

 

“What?”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Do we have to go through the rules again?”

 

Kathryn closes her mouth and glares, but her heart’s not in it and Chakotay laughs, tugging gently on her hip. She allows him to roll her onto her stomach and settle between her parted thighs, and then she looks back over her shoulder at him.

 

“What are you going to do to me now?”

 

He pulls back on her hips until her ass is lifted, the front of her pelvis resting on his knees, and spreads his hands over her buttocks. His thumb delves into her crack and she hitches in a breath. Chakotay smirks at her.

 

“What do you want me to do to you, Kathryn?”

 

Unbidden, her hips rise against his hands, the movement pressing his thumb against her anus.

 

“Ah.” She can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

 

“No, wait –” she starts, weakly, but it’s too late. His fingers dip into her vagina, gathering their mingled juices, spreading it upward between her cheeks. The tip of his forefinger slides inside her puckered entrance. She groans and tries to squirm away, but he holds her firm with an arm around her waist.

 

“Relax,” he orders, and she finds herself loosening, her muscles giving up their tension as his finger slides deeper. She gasps and whimpers and moans as he works her up slowly, and by the time he adds a second finger she’s quivering, molten heat pooling low in her belly.

 

Then she feels his renewed erection, slick with her moisture and pressing against her anus, easing in so gradually that there’s no pain, only a swelling depth of pleasure that makes her fist her hands in the rug and groan as she pushes back against him.

 

“Okay?” he whispers, leaning forward to lick at her spine when he’s buried inside her as far as he can go.

 

“God,” is all she can manage. “Oh, God.”

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” and he pulls out, slowly, until only the tip of his penis is inside her, then back in, his thrusts unhurried, deliberate. She mewls and sighs and arches. When she starts to grind her pelvis against his thigh on each outward stroke, he increases his depth and pace and slides a hand under her to rub at her clit.

 

The sound she makes as his fingers start to stimulate her is wordless and comes from deep in her throat.

 

“Yes,” he hisses, thrusting harder, and his other hand moves around so he can enter her grasping pussy with his fingers. She shrieks and bucks so hard she bumps her chin on the floor, but she doesn’t notice the pain. All her senses are focused on the way he’s filling her everywhere, and it’s only going to take a moment before she –

 

Kathryn screams, thighs clamping tight around him, spine arching as she orgasms long and loud and violently. Chakotay grabs hold of her hips and slams into her once, twice, and then he’s coming too, shouting something unintelligible and slumping over her back. For long moments the only sound in the room is the harsh rasp of their breathing.

 

Then Kathryn starts to laugh.

 

“Hey…” Chakotay taps her gently on the cheek. “What -?”

 

“Sorry,” she tries to stifle it, but he can see her shoulders quaking and it’s infectious, and before he knows it he’s snickering too.

 

“What’s so funny?” he manages between gusts of laughter.

 

“I was just thinking –” she heaves in a breath, trying to control herself, “how fortunate it is that I don’t have bridge duty tonight.”

 

“Oh,” he realises, grinning, “you’d have to sit in that chair…”

 

“I think my ass has taken quite enough punishment for one night, don’t you?” A fresh gale of giggles breaks over her and she has to rest her head on her folded arms. He buries his face in the side of her neck, chuckling, and then his arms come around her and he’s holding her tight, and she thinks how nice it would be if she could just stay here forever, lying in his arms.

 

Her laughter fades.

 

She shifts, and he slips out of her and both of them sigh, and then he’s helping her to her feet and holding her carefully as she finds her balance, and the computer warns them that there’s ten minutes left on their holodeck time.

 

“I’d better get changed,” she murmurs, finding herself suddenly unable to look at him.

 

“Do you want to shower first?”

 

“No time.” She smiles ruefully. “I’ll just have to hope I don’t end up in the same turbolift as Tuvok or Vorik.”

 

“Or B’Elanna.”

 

“Damn their enhanced sense of smell.”

 

Chakotay dips his head into the crook of her neck and she inhales sharply as he sniffs at her. “You smell delicious,” he whispers, his mouth trailing toward hers. She parts her lips, allowing his tongue inside, and they kiss gently, lazily for a moment until he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers.

 

“I really have to go,” she sighs.

 

“Will you be all right getting home?”

 

Kathryn quirks the corner of her mouth. “I think I can find my way.”

 

Chakotay straightens, stepping back. “Until next time, then.”

 

“Yes,” she answers, “next time.”

 

He touches her cheek briefly, and she watches him pull on his shirt and walk out of the holodeck, resolutely ignoring the plaintive, aching voice inside her that wants to beg him to stay and hold her through the night.

© 2021 by Mia Cooper