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Summary: Having confessed their feelings for each other, the command team eagerly embrace their evolving relationship – even if it must be kept secret – and discover to their mutual delight that love isn’t all vanilla and no spice.


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 mid-Season 4, shortly after Message in a Bottle. This is the sequel I said I was never going to write, but then I found the six sexy words prompt list and I couldn't help myself. Each chapter is inspired by a different prompt.


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

Prompt #18: Not until I give you permission.


Chapter Two: Controlled




My voice is rougher than I’d intended. But considering the tableau in front of me, I can hardly be blamed for struggling with my control.

Kathryn is on the bed. She’s naked – just as I ordered – and her back is arched, the lines of her forearms and calves strung tight and tense. Tousled hair frames a flushed face, lips parted and eyes closed. The fingers of one hand cup her breast, the nipple taut. The other hand is between her spread thighs. My gaze fixes upon it, on the slender fingers that shine wetly with her essence, and on her sodden pink flesh.

Her cunt is shaven smooth.

At the sight of it I almost lose control completely. She’s beautiful to me exactly as nature made her, and yet the sight of her smooth, bare pussy is instantly electrifying.

Kathryn’s breath shudders and her hips twitch, but at my command she ceases the circling motion of her fingertips, exhaling on a moan. Her face tips in my direction.

Wrestling myself back into check, I walk toward her slowly. “I believe I told you not to make yourself come.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I’m sorry…”

 “But you couldn’t help yourself.”

I’m standing right by the bed now. She looks up at me, her expression an exquisite mixture of trepidation and lust. Deliberately, I allow one forefinger to alight on her raised knee and trace along her inner thigh.

She quivers.

I press lightly against her thigh, spreading her further. “You are very wet,” I remark. “You’d like very much to come, wouldn’t you?”

Kathryn nods breathlessly. Her hips cant toward me.

My fingers circle delicately on her petal-soft skin, closer and closer to her soaking core.

“How badly do you want it, Kathryn?”

“Please,” she shudders, “I’ll do anything.”

“That is a very tempting offer, sweetheart,” I murmur as my fingers dip and trace. “And I want you to know that I very much appreciate your little surprise –”

Lightly, so lightly it’s barely a feather-brush, my fingertip sketches the bare, glistening folds of her pussy. She almost sobs, and I’m forced to grit my teeth to hold back the growl that wants to escape my throat.

“– but I can’t overlook your disobedience,” I continue when I’m able to speak again. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be disciplined.”

The effect on her is instantaneous.

Her limbs loosen, the curve of her spine relaxing, her hands falling away from her body. Her eyes are locked on my face, wide and trusting, her expression almost serene.

This is something I’m delighted to have learned about Kathryn: as commanding as she is on the bridge of her ship, in private she relinquishes that command with eager delight. Not always – sometimes, she likes to direct proceedings – and only lately has she begun to surrender that control completely, but when she lets go I’m humbled and grateful at the extent of her trust in me.

It’s a responsibility I treasure, a trust I would never abuse, and a power that places on me the sweetest restraint. Her needs are all that matters, her gratification the ultimate goal, and she reaches the most transcendent heights of pleasure when I’ve systematically stripped away every defence, every boundary she hides behind, leaving only the raw, vulnerable, quivering core of her.

I look down at her, spread open before me, and contemplate how I’ll bring her to that state of being tonight.

Then I think about the way she looked when I entered this program – wild, spine bowed, on the verge of bringing herself to climax – and I know exactly what to do.

Stepping back from between her legs, I issue a command to the computer and the room changes. The rumpled white bed is still the centrepiece, but the lights have dimmed to a single warm spotlight gleaming on Kathryn’s naked form. In the shadows is a brown velvet couch; I sink onto it and loosen my necktie. A glass of whiskey appears on a low table beside me and I sip it in silence.

The bedclothes rustle as she sits up cautiously, her eyes full of inquiry. God, she’s beautiful, all tousled hair and creamy curves, mine to caress or bruise as I please. Tonight, I plan to do both.

She takes in a breath, but before she can question me I crack out, “Don’t speak.”

Kathryn bites down on her lip, her spine straightening, legs closing.

“Turn around,” I direct her. “I want you face down on the bed with that perfect ass on display for me.”

She bends over the edge of the bed, widening her stance without my having to ask, and I smile.

“Good girl. Now I want you to touch yourself.”

She dips one hand between her legs and hesitates, her head turning to ask meekly, “Like this?”

“Tease yourself slowly. Put on a show for me. I want you so wet it’s running down your thighs.”

Her eyes glaze and she turns to press her face into the sheet, stifling a moan. Slender fingers work nimbly between her legs, circling and pressing and sliding. I watch as her hips begin to move, her thighs trembling, until the sodden sheen on her slit makes my throat go dry.

“And Kathryn, remember –”

“Yes?” she gasps. Two fingers slide into her drenched channel and she shudders, catching her breath.

“Don’t come until I give you permission.”

The sound she makes at that sends a pulse of lust throughout my body, culminating in the throbbing ache that suffuses my rigid cock. I reach down to adjust myself, then unfasten the top couple of buttons on my dress shirt. Her little sounds, her scent, the sight of her fucking herself on her own fingers … it’s all I can do not to strip down and take her right here and now. But I’m not done torturing her – or apparently myself – just yet.

“Get on your back,” I order. “Legs spread. I want to see that pretty little shaved cunt.”

Kathryn obeys, propping herself on one elbow as her hand snakes back between her thighs. In this pose I have a perfect view of her upturned breasts, her puckered nipples, her swollen folds.

Months ago, when things started between us, Kathryn confessed to me that she’d never been particularly skilled at pleasuring herself. Watching her now, it’s difficult to believe that.

She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen: her lush body, the sheen of perspiration on her pale, perfect skin, the lewd and unashamed display of her most intimate parts as she slides her fingers over and around her clitoris, whimpering with need. If I can’t take much more of this without giving in, I can only imagine the willpower she’s drawing on.

A shiver runs through her and the quality of her soft moans changes, grows more urgent. She’s so close; I read it in the fine tension of her limbs and the way her head tips back, her mouth dropping open.

“Enough,” I tell her harshly, and she lets out a wail, but her fingers drop obediently away.

I give her a moment to regain control, wondering how many times she’s brought herself back from the brink today. Eventually she raises her head. Her chest heaves as she looks at me, waiting for instruction.

“Come here.”

Kathryn rises gracefully to her feet and begins to move toward me.

“No,” I stop her, “on your knees.”

There’s the briefest hesitation before she complies, dropping to hands and knees, her back curving sinuously as she crawls toward me.

I’d been planning to reward her for her restraint and obedience, but that tiny show of defiance changes my intention. I remain sprawled across the velvet couch, whiskey glass dangling from my fingers, until she comes to halt before me and reaches for the fly of my pants.

That presumption is her second transgression.

“What makes you think,” I address her silkily, “that you deserve my cock in your mouth?”

Kathryn stills, eyes widening.

I place the tumbler on the floor beside me. “Do you really think you’ve earned your reward, Kathryn?”

She bows her head contritely, letting her hands slide back to clasp in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice soft.

“We’ll see.”

In a rush of motion I push upright on the couch, lean over to grasp her firmly around the waist and haul her bodily, face down, across my thighs. She gasps, quelling a brief, automatic struggle, and lies still.

She knows what’s coming.

“That’s right,” I murmur, letting my hand fall sharply, experimentally, on one upraised buttock.

She flinches. I wait, smoothing gentle circles on her behind, until the tension begins to leave her limbs. Then I raise my hand high and bring it down with a crack.

Kathryn’s body shakes, the imprint of my hand standing out, bright-red, on her white skin. The sight of it never fails to excite me, and I strike her again, on the other cheek this time. Again, and again, alternating left and right, as her breasts flatten and rub against my thighs and my cock swells painfully inside my pants.

It’s only when she allows a whimper to escape her clenched teeth that I pause, caressing her abused behind with the tips of my fingers. Kathryn arches into the contact, her thighs falling further apart, and I have to close my eyes momentarily.

When I open them, my gaze wanders over the picture she presents to me. Slender thighs parted, round upturned ass striped red and white like a candy-cane, tight puckered hole and below it, her pussy, slick and pouting and completely bare.

My fingers drift into the crack between her buttocks.

“Tell me,” I murmur, one finger tracing the outline of those puffy lips, “why did you decide to shave for me?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice shakes. “I just thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I do.” I dip into her slit, gathering moisture on my fingertips, and drag it upwards to press one fingertip against her anus. She jerks against me. “But what made you think I’d like to see you completely bare down here?”

“That thing you did last week, with your tongue ...” she admits, her head hanging.

I’m glad she can’t see my delighted grin at her half-confession. Last week I had immobilised her and licked her clit and pussy, diligently and consistently, while she came repeatedly against my mouth. And then I’d curled my tongue inside her asshole and she’d screamed, thrashing and crying, her orgasm ripping through her like a firestorm.

“You liked that, huh?” I growl, and she shivers.


I spread my fingers, two dipping just inside her vagina, one pushing lightly into her anus. “Would you like me to do it again?”

She swallows audibly. “Yes,” she whispers.

A fresh flood of her arousal dampens my fingers and I wiggle them experimentally, one flicking her clit. Kathryn jolts and trembles. Her breath rasps in her lungs.

I could play with her a little longer, keep teasing her until she begs. But in this moment all I want is to give her what she craves.

Gently, I help her upright, standing to face her. My hands cup her face and I lean down to kiss her slowly, lusciously, sipping at her lips, sucking on her tongue. She relaxes against me, a soft moan drawn from her throat as I pull back to nuzzle at her ear.

Then I murmur, “Turn around, bend over and put your hands flat on the floor.”

Gulping, she does so, and I sink to my knees behind her. Her spread ass is at eye level. I place my hands on her hips and cup her buttocks. My thumbs stretch to press into her moist, inviting crevice, and then I lean forward and flatten my tongue against her.

Kathryn moans.

I lap at her nub until she’s trembling, lick into her slit as she pushes back against my face. Finally, when she can barely keep her balance, I hook one arm firmly across the front of her hips to hold her to me, push two fingers inside her and swirl my tongue into her puckered hole.

She cries out, writhing and squirming, her knees almost giving way, her juices soaking my face. I quicken my movements, pressing my thumb to her clit. She almost screams, trying to leap away from me.

Please,” she whimpers desperately, “oh God, please,” and that’s when I remember that she’s waiting for my permission.

I drag my mouth away from her for just long enough to gasp, “Come, Kathryn,” and then I dive back in.

She peaks with a frail, pleading cry as though all the breath has been pulled out of her, but there’s nothing weak about the twisting, writhing shudders that wrack her body. Her legs buckle, breaking her away from my busy mouth, and I flatten my palm over her chest to stop her from crashing to the floor. The tremors seem to go on forever.

I tighten my arms around her and raise myself back onto the couch, pulling her back into my lap, cradling her until she quiets. She sobs once and buries her face in the crook of my neck. I stroke her back gently and press kisses into her hair.

Finally she raises her head. Her makeup has left dark smudges under her eyes and her hair is a mess, but as we look at each other, a radiant smile blooms across her face.

“Okay?” I check, an answering smile tugging at my lips.

She nods slowly, grinning. “Oh, I am most definitely more than okay.”

“Worth the wait, then?” My thumb brushes her jaw and she leans her cheek briefly into my palm.

“It was for me.” Kathryn bites her lower lip and lets her lashes sweep downward. She wriggles in my lap and I hiss, reminded sharply of her damp flesh pressed to my still-hard, clothed cock. “But I think one of us is still waiting for that reward.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Oh, but I want to,” she cuts me off, and she slithers off my lap to sink to the floor between my legs.

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