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.
“Take it off,” he interrupted her mid-speech.
Kathryn paused. “Excuse me?”
“Your uniform. I want it off.”
She narrowed her eyes, straining to see him, but his outline was barely visible – just the dark shape of his head and shoulders rising above the back of his armchair, silhouetted against a scape of stars.
“What are you waiting for?”
His voice was harsh, and she could smell whiskey. The apprehension that had been curdling in her stomach since before she came here suddenly clenched and tightened. Her heart beat faster.
She hid it behind a glare, hands finding her hips. “This isn’t like you.”
“Oh, but it is,” he said flatly. “You just haven’t been paying attention. Now,” he continued, “take off that damn uniform and crawl over here on your knees.”
She bridled at his peremptory tone. “How dare you speak to me like that.” She should be putting him on report, throwing him in the brig, for the things he was saying.
He laughed. “You want me to talk to you like you’re in charge here? You’re not.”
Her eyes were beginning to adjust; she could see, now, that he wasn’t in uniform, but in civilian clothes like the ones he’d been wearing the first day they’d met. Despite herself, her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard, hoping the dim light would obscure it.
He chuckled softly, apparently reading her reaction. “That’s right, Captain. I’m in charge now, just like you dream about.”
She felt the flush rising up from her collar, matching the pulse of heat low in her belly. He knew.
“You know what I want.” His voice was low and smooth. “And I know you want it too. So quit stalling,” she heard the creak of leather as he leaned back in the armchair, legs wide apart, “take off your clothes, and come here. Now.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. He didn’t move. Just sat there, outwardly relaxed, but she felt tension radiating from him. Tension, and danger, and promise.
She shifted on her feet, knowing she should walk out. Unable to make herself leave.
Kathryn raised shaking fingers to her collar, plucked off her pips one by one and let them fall to the carpeted deck.
That action, that capitulation, sucked the air from the room like an indrawn breath. Her clothes felt tight and she suddenly wanted them gone. She opened her jacket and let it fall, tugged the turtleneck over her head. Kicked off her boots. Her hands moved faster, peeling off her pants, dropping her undershirt to the floor. She looked at him, lips parted. Waiting.
He leaned forward in his chair and she felt the intensity of his interest. “All of it.”
She barely hesitated. The bra landed atop her undershirt, and she pushed the panties down her legs and stepped out of them.
He snapped his fingers. The sound made her gasp. “Knees.”
Kathryn dropped, crawled the few metres that separated them. The carpet felt harsh under her palms. She held position at the foot of his chair.
She crawled between his spread knees, crawled until her shoulders pressed against the insides of his thighs and her face was mere centimetres from his crotch. She was breathing faster now, trembling all over.
“Look at me.”
Kathryn sat back on her heels. It was still difficult to see him properly, shadowed against the stars, but she could make out the white flash of teeth in the darkness as he grinned. His hand lifted from where it rested on his thigh, the tips of his fingers tracing a line from her shoulder to her chin, and she flinched.
He paused. “Are you afraid?”
She shook her head.
“Are you lying?”
“All right, then.”
She felt his hand – not rough, but not exactly gentle either – tangling in her hair, urging her closer.
“You know what I want,” he said.
Kathryn licked her lips.
“That’s right.” Low, amused. “Go ahead then, Captain. Or as you like to put it: do it.”
The incongruity of being here, naked and on her knees, in between this man’s legs and following his every order, when just minutes ago she’d been standing there in full uniform, every inch the captain, crept up on her as she raised her hands to his groin.
When she faltered, he tightened his grip on her hair. He didn’t have to say anything more.
She worked his thick leather belt open. The smooth whip-slide of it, the metal buckle scratching the back of her hand as she unbuttoned his fly, the hot weighty feel of his erection under her fingers … all of it filled her with a diffuse, inchoate kind of need. Her thighs tensed. Her mouth went dry. The sharp twinge between her legs settled into a pulsing ache.
She bent her head and stretched her lips around the blunt head of his cock.
He groaned in pleasure as her mouth sank down over him. His fingers wound more firmly into her hair, aiding her, guiding her movements. She let him lead. He knew what he wanted, and she wanted to give it to him.
There would be time later for him to give her what she craved.
Kathryn took her time. Licked him in long slow strokes, worked him with her hands. She let him urge her down, down until her nose was buried in coarse hair and his thick penis lodged in her throat, felt him pulse and swell on her tongue. Let him hold her there, until her head sang and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Let him hold her just past the point at which she began to fear she’d have to fight for her next breath. Then, with exquisite timing, he loosened his hold and eased her up and off him.
“You can stand up now.”
She allowed herself a small inner smile at the roughness in his voice. Then she straddled his spread thighs and wrapped her hand around him, shuffled closer, guided him to press against her.
“Wait.” His hands found her hips. “Get yourself off.”
She slid two fingers over her clit, but he batted them away.
“No. Use me.”
Understanding, Kathryn tilted her hips so that the head of his cock nudged her clitoris. It sent a shudder through her, the slick press of him, the sweet drag and slide. Her eyes closed, her head tipped back. A sigh escaped her parted lips.
She wanted to glare at him, but that rough growl sent a shiver through her and she moaned instead.
He moved one hand to her breast, cupping it, thumbing her nipple; the other stayed on her hip to guide her movements. Her thigh muscles started to burn from holding herself above him. Liquid gathered and trickled down her inner thighs, coating his cock.
“That’s it,” he murmured, “that’s good,” and he leaned in to capture her other nipple between his teeth.
She whined softly, and he tightened his hand on her hip and closed his lips over her, sucking as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. The rub of his cock on her clit was sublime. She rolled her pelvis faster, her movements growing short and jerky. She began to pant, and he slid his hand upward from her breast until it curled around her throat.
“Yes,” she ground out as his fingers tightened around her airway, “God, yes,” and in an arpeggio of shudders and moans, she came.
His grip loosened on her throat. As her body relaxed over and around his, he grasped her chin and drew her face close. With his lips against hers, he murmured, “We’re not finished yet.”
He bit lightly at her lower lip. “Pay attention.”
Her eyes opened wide.
“That’s more like it,” he told her, and thrust his cock inside her to the hilt.
She cried out, bracing her hands against the chair behind his head as he ground up into her. The suddenness of it, the fullness, the way he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him, all of it combined to whirl her back into an upward spiral, but she couldn’t get the leverage she needed. Her orgasm eluded her.
He used the muscles of his thighs to propel them both up and out of the chair, and she wrapped her legs around his hips as he walked them over to the bulkhead. Her back slammed against it, making her groan.
“This what you wanted?” he grunted, as he drove inside her, shoving her further up the wall.
The sound she made in reply was inarticulate, and he chuckled, but the way he rubbed inside her in all the right places and the heavy press of his body as he crushed her into the bulkhead robbed her of the ability to care if he was mocking her.
This time, when she climaxed, it was with a wild and wordless yell.
Yes. This was exactly what she wanted when she came here tonight, despite her unwillingness to admit it to herself. It was what she had always wanted from him.
She didn’t know whether to be chagrined or grateful that he knew what she wanted even better than she did, and that he had so amply, so masterfully demonstrated that he could give it to her.