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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 #22: Holding your hands above your head.


Chapter Three: Subdued




His gruff voice stills my hands as I reach for the fastening of his pants and I quirk an inquiring eyebrow at him.

After all, it’s not often he stops me from taking his cock into my mouth.

Chakotay rests a hand on my head, fingers combing gently through my hair. His smile widens and turns feral. It sends an anticipatory shiver though me, even though my body is still limp from the pleasure his lips and tongue just wrung from it.

“I didn’t say I was finished with you yet.”

He lets his fingers drift along my jawline, tilting my chin upward so he can bend to press the softest of kisses to my lips.

That kiss – tender, achingly sweet – given when we’re together like this, is almost always a precursor to the kind of activity that will push my boundaries, sometimes even redefine them. And it never fails to send a sharp wave of lust directly to my tingling nipples, my swollen clit, my aching cunt.

My eyes close, my body stills. All my senses are focused on the light pressure of his lips and the subtle swipe of his tongue.

He draws back slowly and I feel his gaze on my face. Then he says, “Get up.”

Opening my eyes, I get to my feet quickly and stand before him. He rises too, and his hands come to rest on my hips as he stares down at me. There’s a speculative look in those dark eyes that makes my pulse pick up.

“Computer,” Chakotay says, “alter program parameters and run file Chakotay alpha nine blue.”

Around us, the white room, the couch and the bed shimmer away, and the first thing that strikes me is the smell of sawdust and polished wood. We are standing in Sandrine’s, but it’s not the version the crew knows. There’s a bar, a pool table, couches and chairs and a fireplace, but there’s also a coiled length of slender rope draped over the nearest table, and a hook set into the ceiling directly above me.

And it’s empty but for us.

The first time he brought me here, soon after we started sleeping together, he indulged me by bringing to life almost every depraved fantasy I’ve ever had. We haven’t been here often since, but each time we have it’s been memorable.

If he’s activating this program tonight it means he has something special in mind for me. Something wanton and debauched; maybe something I didn’t even know I was craving. He has a knack for intuiting my most decadent imaginings and making them a reality.

And in the process, driving me to experience the most intense and unrestrained of orgasms.

I can hardly wait.

“Your eyes glazed over,” Chakotay rumbles, bringing my full attention back to him and the smirk that flirts with the corners of his mouth. “Such a Pavlovian response, sweetheart.”

His hands slide downward from my hips to cup and squeeze my still-tender behind.

“That’s good,” he continues, “because from now on I want you to follow your instincts. Don’t think. Just feel.”

He dips his head, nuzzling his lips softly against my neck.

“I’m in control now,” he whispers, close to my ear. “Let go.”

I give a short nod, and it must be the signal he’s been waiting for because he nips sharply at my neck and pulls back. I can’t help a mewl of disappointment when his hands slide away from my body.

“Close your eyes,” he orders.

I obey, and feel him take hold of my hands and raise them high above my head. He holds them there as he circles me, and then I feel the rope winding around my wrists, over and over. His breath is warm on my nape and the movements of his arms make the soft linen of his shirt brush my naked back. My skin feels tight, over-sensitised.

He ties off the rope and loops it over the hook that extends down from the ceiling, then steps back to inspect his handiwork.

I’m completely immobilised. And the knowledge that I can’t free myself – that I’m naked and exposed and completely at his mercy – sends a rush of arousal to my core.

“Good,” he murmurs, then, “I’m going to blindfold you now.”

I suck in a shaky breath as the silk covers my eyes. He’s careful not to pull my hair as he secures the blindfold with a knot behind my head.

“Okay?” he confirms, one hand resting warmly on my stretched shoulderblade.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Absolutely.”

He chuckles and gives my ass a light, patronising pat to indicate he’s satisfied with my response, and then I sense him moving away. He says something so low I don’t catch it, but when the computer chirps its acknowledgment I realise he wasn’t addressing me.

I hear him unscrew the lid of a bottle and the smoky tang of whiskey reaches my nose. He pours – there’s the dull chink of the bottle’s neck touching a heavy glass tumbler – and moves closer; I can’t see him, but the smell of the whiskey is stronger and I sense his presence, broad and solid, directly in front of me.

He sips, holds the whiskey in his mouth to savour it, and swallows; I can almost feel the burn in my throat. My tongue darts out to wet my lips.


I nod, and a warm, steady hand cups my hip to steady me as he holds the glass to my lips, tipping it just enough for a taste.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says conversationally, withdrawing the tumbler and pacing a few steps away. “Remember the Srivani?”

I can’t help the curl of my lip. “How could I forget? They experimented on us for weeks.”

“I guess that means they were watching us that whole time.” He sips from his glass again, then I hear him placing it on a wooden surface. “Bet they saw some interesting things.”

My mouth drops open a little.

Those aliens… they’d pumped up my dopamine levels until I felt nearly insane. Everything was intensely heightened; every emotion brought me to the edge of madness. I must have driven Chakotay almost to drink back then; if I wasn’t picking fights with him, I was demanding he satisfy me sexually as often as humanly possible and more –

My cheeks start to burn and I hang my head. Chakotay chuckles.

“You must have been relieved when the Doctor confined you to sickbay,” I mumble. “Losing your hair was probably more fun than putting up with me.”

“Stop that,” he reproves. “Sure, you were a little out of control, but it wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t all bad.”

I can hear the grin in his voice as he leans in and speaks in my ear.

“I just wish they’d boosted my testosterone instead of turning me into an old man, so I could give you what you wanted.” He moves away, casually adding, “It’s a shame there’s only one of me.”

“Mm,” I respond, not really listening. I’m too busy remembering the tongue-lashing I gave Tom and B'Elanna for their less-than-discreet displays of affection, immediately before I ordered Chakotay into my ready room and put my tongue to equally indiscreet use –

There’s a sharp twist to my nipple and I yelp.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Chakotay warns, then, “What were you thinking about just now?”

“I was thinking about sucking your cock.”

He cups my breast, his thumb softly rubbing my abused nipple and making me shudder. “Would you like to?” he asks silkily.

“Yes.” I moisten my lips. “Very much.”

“Or would you rather I fuck you?” His fingers stroke downward over my abdomen to cup my pussy.

I think about the way he stretches me, the thick slide and the fullness, and I push myself into his hand.

“So smooth,” he murmurs, the pad of his forefinger parting my swollen lower lips to circle my clitoris. “So wet, just for me.”

His other hand mirrors the first, skimming over the curve of my ass, one finger pressing into the crack.

“So tight,” he whispers, his lips drifting over my cheekbone. “You’re imagining me fucking your ass right now, aren’t you Kathryn?”

I can’t stifle a moan.

“You remember the first time I brought you here?”


“You wanted to be fucked so badly. One man wasn’t enough for you – you had to be filled everywhere.”

He quickens the pace of his finger on my clit and I twist and arch to increase the contact. I feel my climax beginning to gather like storm clouds. My mind is filled with slick heat and seeking tongues, hands stroking and grasping, thick cocks pushing and plunging …

“How many men do you think you could fuck, Kathryn?” he murmurs. “How many cocks can you take?”

All of them, I think wildly, but what comes out of my mouth is, “I only want you.”

I can hear the undercurrent of delight as he responds, “Then you’re in luck, sweetheart.”

He tugs gently at the knot behind my head until the blindfold comes loose.

I blink against the light, and when my eyes have adjusted he suggests, “Look around.”

Chakotay stands in front of me, grinning wolfishly. He’s discarded the dinner jacket and tie he was wearing earlier and has rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He looks delicious, and for the first time I chafe against my bonds: I need to reach for him, touch him and rub my body against his skin…

He steps aside and my gaze drifts past him.

“What …?” My voice tapers into nothingness.

Another Chakotay slouches in a hard-backed chair, legs spread insolently wide. He’s wearing battered leather pants and scuffed, dusty boots, and he’s staring at me as though he wants to devour me alive.

I gulp. This is the man who first beamed onto my bridge, phaser drawn, bristling with aggression.

To his right, a third Chakotay leans against the edge of a table. This one is dressed in Starfleet uniform, hair groomed slick, and he looks at me with an expression that incites in me a sharp sense of recognition: schooled features, deferential tilt of the chin, barely-concealed heat in his eyes. It’s the expression I saw whenever my Chakotay looked at me, from the moment I first began to suspect he had feelings for me.

There’s another, moving up behind the table, wearing the loose shirt and sturdy pants I associate with New Earth. Then others: in jeans and a T-shirt; breeches and long boots – I gulp at that; it reminds me sharply of the outfit he wore on Latavan – and finally, one wearing nothing but bedhead, sleep-heavy eyes and Starfleet-issue shorts that are noticeably tented at the front.

I start to shake.

“What,” I manage hoarsely, swallowing hard, “what exactly do you – uh, all of you – intend to do to me?”

“Whatever you want,” replies my Chakotay, and the others murmur in agreement.

His doubles drift closer until they’re crowded around us. The Starfleet officer brushes a fingertip over my nipple. Another’s hand finds my hip and slides forward into the crease of my thigh. Still another presses up close behind me, his penis full and heavy and barely contained by his soft cotton shorts as he rubs it into the crack of my ass.

Arousal washes through me, and the one in jeans gives an appreciative hum as his thick fingers dip between my thighs.

“Beautiful,” whispers the one in uniform, bending to suck my nipple into his mouth, and the one wearing jeans murmurs agreement as he drops to his knees before me. He coaxes my leg over his shoulder and traces the outline of my pussy. Then he leans in to wrap his lips around my clitoris.

I shudder and jerk as he laps at me, my knees buckling. The only thing keeping me upright is the rope binding my hands above my head.

Soft lips brush my cheekbone. “What do you want, Kathryn?” my lover murmurs.

“Let me down,” I beg, and immediately he helps me raise on tiptoe so I can slip my bound hands off the iron hook. He frees my wrists and rubs them gently, lifting them to his lips to trace the marks left on my skin.

I sway on my feet as the hands and mouths on me stroke and twist and suck and tease, and my Chakotay smiles.

“What do you want?” he asks again. “You can have anything. You only have to ask.”

“You,” I grate out, the word dissolving into a gasp as fingers curl into my dripping slit. “I want – I need to make you come. With my mouth. Please.”

In answer he releases my wrists and presses down on my shoulder until my knees buckle. Hands lower me gently to the floor and drift over my back, my ass, between my legs. So many hands.
“Please,” I beg again, staring up at my Chakotay, and he unzips his pants and frees himself, pushing his cock into my open mouth.

I’m not sure who groans louder, him or me.

He sinks in slowly, allowing me time to adjust, as the other men murmur encouragingly, their hands stroking my body in every place they can reach. The feeling is indescribable. My excitement builds almost unbearably; I find myself stretching and craning to increase the pressure of those fingers here, push those a little deeper there.

Chakotay’s hands wind into my hair, holding it out of my face as I work my tongue and throat around his shaft. I can feel that he’s holding back from thrusting, but I don’t want his restraint – I want to feel all of him – so I raise my eyes to his face, pleading with him silently.

As always, he gives me what I crave.

His cock pushes inexorably into the depths of my throat, and I’m forced to swallow repeatedly as tears moisten my eyes. I blink, desperate to maintain eye contact, needing to read the lust and delight on his face as I take him in. When I start to feel lightheaded I draw back to gasp in a breath and he smiles down at me. He waits until I’ve wrapped my lips around the fat head of his penis, and then he coils his fists tighter in my hair and pushes me down until my lips are stretched around his base.

“That’s it,” one of his doubles murmurs in my ear. “Take it in, as deep as you can, sweetheart.”

A palm strikes my ass sharply and I jolt at the sudden pain, almost choking on Chakotay’s cock, but my noise of protest turns into a whine as thick fingers coated with cool gel trace inside the crevice of my ass and press gently into my anus. As they glide into me gradually I feel my eyes closing and my whole body loosening, my focus turning inward. My throat muscles relax and Chakotay slides in even deeper.

He grunts and swells and I taste bitterness on the back of my tongue. And then he pulls out, his cock aimed directly at my open mouth. Semen splashes in ropes across my lips, my cheek and chest, and Chakotay groans.

“Fuck,” he rasps when the pulses finally stop and I’m licking my lips as creamy fluid drips from my chin and dribbles onto my breasts. “You look so beautiful like that.”

All I can do is stare up at him and whimper. There’s a hand on each of my breasts, fingers inside my ass and pussy, a mouth tracing patterns along the length of my spine and another nipping at my shoulder.

Still panting, Chakotay backs up and grasps the back of a chair, falling into it. “I want to watch you with them – with me,” he grates. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

The sound that escapes me is needy and wordless.

“You first,” he addresses the man directly behind me – the one wearing nothing but undershorts – and I feel smooth, muscled thighs press against the back of my own.

The fingers inside me withdraw and a cock nudges into my slit to replace them, steadily pushing all the way inside me. The man curls an arm around my waist and coaxes me upright, holding my back against his bare chest.

“And you,” Chakotay says. “She likes it when you play with her tits. Don’t be gentle.”

The man in breeches shifts to my side, reaching to tweak one nipple between finger and thumb as his dark head dips to the other. His teeth close around it lightly, then with increasing pressure, making me cry out.

Another hand snakes in from my other side, this one belonging to the Chakotay in loose shirt and work pants, and traces the place where my cunt is stretched around his doppelganger’s penis, slicking my moisture up over my clitoris. My inner muscles are squeezing rhythmically, making the man inside me groan and thrust harder. I’m moaning almost continuously now, my body tense and arched, my head falling back onto the shoulder of the man behind me. He sucks hard on my neck as fingers work at my nipples and clitoris, as I start to shudder …

“That’s it,” my lover orders, “make her come. And then I want you to –”

But the rest of his sentence is lost to me as the myriad sensations send me spiralling over the edge.

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