Summary: What the captain gets up to in her private hours is nobody’s business but hers ... and the lover she chooses to spend them with.
Characters: Janeway, Chakotay, Ayala
Codes: Janeway/Chakotay, Janeway/Ayala
Disclaimer: Paramount/CBS own the rights to the Voyager universe and its characters, which I am borrowing without permission or intent to profit.
Notes: The identity of Janeway’s lover is entirely up to you – it all depends on which ending you choose.
Warning: Dom/sub themes. Dubious consent in the third ending.
Ending One: crossing the line
With her cry still echoing in the silent room, he pulled out of her and spun her around, pressing her face to the bulkhead. The flat of his arm weighed hard against her shoulder blades. His other hand pulled at her hip, made her arch her back.
“Spread your legs, Captain.”
She did, waiting, listening to him strip off the top half of his clothing. She felt him bend his knees to line himself up with her entrance, pushing slowly into her from behind. Her hands flattened as the weight of him crowded her against the wall, his smooth, bare chest rubbing the sensitised skin of her back.
His breath was hot and ragged in her ear, but he kept his thrusts slow, grinding into her deliberately. She felt her thighs shaking under the strain of holding herself on tiptoe, and her chest was tight from lack of air. Her body sagged.
He put enough space between them to let her draw in a deep, shuddering breath. Then he smacked his open palm down on one cheek of her ass, hard enough to draw a cry from her. Hard enough to sting.
“You didn’t come here tonight to apologise, did you, Captain?” He punctuated the accusation with a particularly forceful, corkscrewing lunge into her depths.
She opened her mouth, but she had no answer, and if she had, he seemed determined to pound it out of her.
Another harsh slap, this time on the other cheek. Kathryn yelped.
“Did you?” Thrust. “No … you came to haul me over the coals.”
“You defied my orders –”
Smack. “You almost killed a man!”
“God damn it –”
Another thrust. “What do you want from me, Kathryn?”
She sank her teeth into her lower lip to bite back the groan of pleasure-pain.
He spanked her again and she jumped. “Did you come here for this?”
She made a sound of protest, which was promptly belied by the way she tilted her hips and pushed back into him.
“Because you’re sure as hell not fighting me, are you?” He pressed deeper inside her, and his hand slid forward, down, between her thighs.
His fingers found her clitoris, slick and swollen, and his other hand smoothed over her stinging ass, the heat from his palm making her jolt up against it. The tight, deliberate circling motions of his fingers made her squeeze around him helplessly, and he groaned in response and began to fuck her faster.
“You know, Kathryn,” he leaned in to growl in her ear as his hips drove into hers and she gasped and closed her eyes, “sometimes I wonder if you go too far on purpose …”
“What?” she managed through the gathering haze of a climax she could tell was going to be her most powerful of the night.
“To make me angry,” he hissed, “just so that I’ll fuck you like this,” and with a prodigious lunge, he slammed her so hard into the bulkhead that the stars bursting behind her eyes were only partly due to her orgasm.
Wrung out and insensible, she couldn’t even think of nudging at the solid weight of him where he was pressed along the length of her back; without him to support her, she would no doubt crumple to the floor anyway. In the end it was Chakotay who eased himself away from her, one arm around her waist to hold her up as he slipped out of her. She felt the wet gush of their combined fluids like a loss.
He misconstrued her whimper, his free hand pushing tangled hair away from the side of her face. “You okay?”
Eyes still closed, Kathryn nodded.
“Okay.” His voice was gentler now. “Come on.”
He turned her, wrapped an arm securely around her waist and helped her to the bathroom, where she stood numb and silent under the shower while he cleansed every part of her and combed the tangles from her wet hair. He switched to sonic dry in lieu of a towel. Then she was in his arms, being carried to the bed. He laid her on it carefully, on her stomach.
The dermal regenerator needed only a few passes over her reddened ass to remove the evidence his hands had left. Considering the gravity of her crime, this time, it seemed insufficient.
He climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, tugging the covers up to her hips, and she buried her face against his throat and allowed herself the indulgence of breathing him in.
This man. This man who gave her everything he was, whom she had come to admit – even if only to herself – that she couldn’t live without.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
She’d been dozing, sated, on his broad chest, but his words and the sombre tone of his voice made her eyes snap open.
“What do you mean?”
His hand drifted away from where it had been twined into her hair, and she used the movement to put some distance between them. He sat up too, letting her pull the sheet around her torso, a barrier that was as symbolic as it was absurd.
“You know what I mean,” he sighed. “I can’t be the one who hurts you when you want to be punished.”
“Not even when I deserve it?”
“You punish yourself far more than any human deserves,” he said softly. “And I can’t absolve this guilt you’re determined to bear.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed hard to control her voice. “Why now?”
It took him a long time to answer her.
“Because I love you.”
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