ugly bag of mostly voyager

Ending Two: covert operations

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What a quick study he was.

As he pulled out – still hard, his penis glistening from her – and took firm hold of her wrist to tow her into his bedroom, she thought about the conversation they’d had a few nights ago, the last time they had been together.

That night she’d given him the merest suggestion that she liked to be ordered around, and here he was. He’d taken that hint and run with it.

“Get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

She climbed on, shuffling back as he directed until she was perched on the edge, facing the opposite wall, knees apart. She heard the rustle as he removed his shirt, the double thump of his boots and the clink of his belt as they hit the carpeted floor. He stepped up, close and naked, flush against the back of her thighs, and slid his rigid cock into the space between her legs. Not penetrating her. Just skimming across the slick and puffy surface of her cunt.

His hands spread over her hips, pulling her, manipulating her, as the length of his penis rubbed all along her slit. She squirmed and twisted, trying to trap him inside her, and it made him chuckle, low and self-satisfied. With one hand he squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples. The other held her firmly in place as he used his cock to stimulate her too slowly, too indirectly, for her to come again. It was torment.

“Stop teasing,” she grated when she could no longer bear it.

In response he took his hand away from her breasts and flattened it between her shoulder blades, pushing her upper torso firmly down to the bed. She had to turn her head quickly to the side to be able to breathe, and she had the sense that he didn’t much care if her airway remained unobstructed or not.

Then he dragged his penis from her clit through the abundant liquid coating the lips of her cunt, stopping only when the thick head of it pressed insistently against her anus.

Kathryn sucked in a sharp breath and went still and tense. But she didn’t shift away, and after an experimental moment or two, he laid a peremptory pat on the upper curve of her ass.

“Don’t move.”

She felt him leave her, heard him open a drawer, sensed his return in the shiver that rippled along her spine.

Then his palm was on the base of her back, grounding her, and his thumb – coated in warm oil – was stroking between her cheeks, pressing slowly into her, stretching her, as the lubricant dripped down to mingle with her own abundant liquid.

“If you don’t want this, you’d better tell me now.”

His thumb was inside her to the first knuckle and his other hand cupped her mound, fingers drifting lightly around her clitoris, never touching it directly. Kathryn quivered with the effort of holding still.

Her voice was strained. “I want it.”

“Then you’ll have it,” he rumbled silkily.

He took his time preparing her, working her open.  As he pressed slowly inside her he rolled a blunt forefinger over her clit and pinched her nipple with his other hand. Kathryn arched her spine and pushed mindlessly back onto him. Her fingers curled into the bedcovers for purchase against the luscious drag and thrust as he filled her, stroked her, manipulated her.

And all the while, he talked. Telling her what she looked like, how badly he wanted her, what he was doing to her, in exquisite, explicit detail.

For a man who was usually so silent, he had mastered the art of dirty talk.

Her orgasm was brutal.

She muffled her howl against the Starfleet quilt, shaking and spasming around him as he lunged forcefully into her, uttered a teeth-clenched bellow and collapsed onto her back.

She let him rest there for a moment while she got her breath back, then elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He grunted, pushed himself upright, pulled out of her carefully. Helped her to stand.

Without a word she pushed past him into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her while she cleaned herself up. When she came out, he was already dressed: impeccably, ready for duty. He had folded her uniform and placed it neatly on the end of the bed.

He turned his back while she put her clothes on, a courtesy that never failed to make her smile. She knew it was the part of their ritual that let him redefine their roles. When she walked out of his quarters she would again be his captain, and he her lieutenant.

Kathryn checked her pips in the mirror over his dresser, made sure her hair was tidy.

“Computer,” she said, “scan the corridors surrounding these quarters and inform me when they are empty.”

Acknowledged, the computer replied, and after a moment or two, The corridors in immediate proximity to Lieutenant Ayala’s quarters are presently unoccupied. The nearest crewman has just entered section 13 gamma.

“See you on the bridge,” she said with a casual squeeze of Ayala’s shoulder, and strode out, schooling the satisfied smile from her face.

As she rode the turbolift to deck three, crossing her fingers she wouldn’t run into any of her crew who possessed a heightened sense of smell, Kathryn indulged in a moment of reminiscence over the beginning of their – she was hesitant to call it a relationship; arrangement, she supposed – on a shuttle, during a dull away mission.

She’d intended it to be a one-off, but after so long mostly celibate, a single taste had not been enough and she had found herself pressing the chime at his quarters the same night they’d returned to Voyager.

Of all the decisions she’d made in the Delta quadrant, that had been one she did not regret. He had figured her out so quickly – what she liked, how she liked it, how to make her come so hard she forgot everything else.

And sex with him always held an edge, a touch of recklessness, perhaps because it was so vital that it remain a secret. Each time they met it had been rougher, or riskier, or more imaginative.

As she slipped into her own quarters, Kathryn entertained a moment of misgiving at the chances she was taking. If anybody found out …

If she was honest with herself, there was only one person she truly feared finding out, but that was – she tightened her lips at the aptness of it – irrelevant now anyway. The choices he had made this past year had made it clearer than ever that she would bear her burdens alone for the rest of their journey.

Eight years was a long time to pretend she had no needs, no desires, and in the end she was only human.

★

Not what you wanted? Try a different ending:

crossing the line | breaching protocol

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★

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Note: this fic is consistent with my other Janeway/Ayala fics, Unguarded and Surrender.