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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 #49: I always want more of you.


Chapter Four: Addicted



She cries out, her back arching sharply as her fingernails dig furrows into the thighs of the man who’s pounding himself into her, the man who looks like me. Then she goes limp, her head hanging and her upper body falling forward, held up only by the masculine arm around her waist.

The instruction I’m in the middle of issuing dies on my tongue as I watch her, transfixed. She whines softly as my double grasps her hips and continues to slam into her, her body shaking with each forceful thrust.

She’s magnificent.

And I’m already hard again, so hard it’s almost painful – but I’ll have to wait my turn.

The man fucking her grunts, hips stuttering.

“Pull out,” I snap at him. He obeys, grasping his penis, and his ejaculate spurts onto her back, decorating her pale, pure skin with thick milky ribbons.

The sight of her – as my doppelganger gives her upturned ass a perfunctory pat and staggers to his feet, yanking up the grey standard-issue underwear that is his only covering – dials my arousal up to fever pitch. Kathryn rests on her elbows, hair tangled over her face, her narrow back adorned with holographic seed, and all I want is to watch her again.

My voice is hoarse as I snap my fingers at the next man waiting in line; the version of me I’ve programmed in Starfleet uniform. “You. You’re up.”

He steps forward, bending over her and placing a gentle hand on her back. “What would you like?” he asks her softly.

“Anything,” I barely hear her whisper. “Everything.”


He strips quickly and reaches for the bottle of lubricant, coating his fingers in it, and then his penis. As he uses his fingers to prepare her, Kathryn shudders and shifts her thighs further apart. I lean forward to get a better view as my double presses himself into her anus, pushing in carefully until his thighs are flush against the back of hers.

He glances at the copy of me in Maquis leathers, and without a word the Maquis bends to cup Kathryn’s chin, tipping her face up.

“Lie back on him, sweetheart,” he growls; his voice is harder than his counterpart’s. “I’m gonna fuck that sweet little cunt of yours.”

Starfleet lies back on the floor and coaxes Kathryn to recline on him, her head lolling back on his shoulder, and Maquis drops to his knees before them and spreads her legs.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, “I have to taste you,” and he plunges his tongue inside her as Kathryn mewls and arches.

I find that I’m holding my aching cock in my hand, squeezing the tip to stop myself from coming.

The Maquis lifts his head, the lower half of his face glistening, and shoots me a feral grin. “I could eat her all day,” he says off-handedly. “But I think the lady wants me inside her.”

The moan she utters in response is all the confirmation he needs.

He lines himself up at her entrance. “Hold still,” he orders his double, and then he pushes all the way in with a guttural grunt.

She whimpers and wriggles on the two hard cocks inside her and both men groan deeply. The one under her lifts his hands to cup her breasts as they both begin to move in counterpoint, pushing and pulling her, squeezing and thrusting.

“God,” Kathryn moans, “oh God,” and she turns her head and opens her eyes directly onto mine.

I reach out to touch her face, stroking across her lips with my thumb.

“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” I rumble. “Do you know how good we look together?”

“You feel … so good,” she breathes. Her breasts bounce as both copies of me, Starfleet and Maquis, thrust into her roughly, jostling her between them. “So fucking good…”


My eyes cut sideways to the version of me in jeans and he steps up eagerly, unbuttoning his fly. “Open up,” he entreats her, letting the head of his cock rest against her lips. And she does, groaning deep in her throat as he pushes into the warm haven of her mouth.

“So many hands on you, Kathryn,” I growl. “So many cocks inside you.”

She tries to speak, and the man in her mouth grunts and thrusts in deeper. The two men inside her increase their pace and force in response.  She shudders and bucks her hips, grinding onto them. Starfleet pinches and twists her nipples and Maquis shoves a hand between their bodies to rub his thumb over her clit, and Kathryn convulses, her shrieks muffled by the cock plunging into her throat.

“I can feel you squeezing all around me,” Maquis groans, his hands tightening on her hips. He grasps her ankles and spreads her legs wide, driving into her faster, harder. Her body jolts and she makes a sound that could be pleasure or pain or some exhilarating combination of the two.

With a few particularly forceful thrusts, Maquis shouts, “Fuck,” and pulls out, emptying himself over her belly and thighs. Head hanging, chest heaving, he drops down to bury his face in her pussy, sucking at her noisily until she arches and shakes under his tongue.

A moment later Starfleet grits his teeth and yells, pumping her ass full as his arms tighten around her.

Kathryn squirms, pushing at them with hands and elbows, and in unison all three draw back from her slowly, groaning in concert.

Starfleet steadies her on her knees before he stands, placing a soft kiss on her cheek and whispering, “Thank you.”

Maquis grins down at her as he tucks himself back into his pants. “You’re one hot little fuck,” he tells her. “Look me up anytime.”

The one in jeans stands patiently, his cock jutting out mere centimetres from her face. I’m just about to ask her if she’s had enough when she turns to him and clutches at his hips, bringing him forcefully back to her. Her neck curves as she swallows him down.

Watching her pleasuring him orally almost sends me into orbit. All I can do, as I take in her slender, talented hands, her prodigious tongue, the undulations of her throat, is think about how it feels to be on the receiving end.

“Ah, fuck,” my double mutters as though he’s read my mind, “I’m gonna –”

“Come on her face,” the words tumble out of me, “I want you to shoot all over her – I want to see her covered in it…”

He wrenches away from her, gripping his penis just in time to stripe her upturned face with long strands of milky fluid. She gasps and shuts her eyes, but holds still as it paints her lips, her shoulders and breasts.

When he’s finished she opens her eyes and looks up at him with the same stripped-raw vulnerability, the absolute trust that tells me I’ve brought her to that pure state of being she craves: defenceless, exhausted, drunk on pleasure. But as he lifts a gentle hand to her face, obviously responding to her in the same way that I do, her expression flickers.

“What is it?” I lean forward, speaking softly. “What do you need, Kathryn?”

A lock of damp, sweaty hair falls over her eyes as she turns to me.

“I need …” she licks dry lips. “Chakotay … I need you. Only you.”

I push myself out of my chair and kneel in front of her. “You have me.”

She smiles, but there’s a tremor to it and she’s starting to shiver. I take her hands.

“Computer, end program and activate Chakotay beta one.”

Sandrine’s disappears, and with it the holo-copies of me and everything they left behind. We’re in a chalet, kneeling on a soft, tufted rug in front of a fireplace. There’s a faded, low-slung sofa beside us, heaped with pillows. The room is small and cosy, the walls wood-panelled. This is a place of solace, not seduction.

Kathryn looks down at herself, still sweaty and slick, her skin reddened where hands have clutched at it, but clean of holographic semen. She laughs a little hysterically. Then she starts to shake in earnest.

It’s not the first time she’s come down like this. Sometimes, when I’ve kept her on the edge for a particularly long time, when I’ve tested her boundaries in unexpected ways and she has risen – or sunk – to every challenge I’ve set for her, in the aftermath she needs my help to pull the mantle of her composure around her again. Sometimes she trembles and clings to me as I speak to her soothingly; sometimes she weeps uncontrollably until her sobs turn into equally irrepressible laughter. Sometimes she holds herself apart from me, needing distance to relearn the outer edges of her physical being, to own herself again.

As she turns her eyes toward me, it’s immediately clear that what she needs from me tonight is comfort.

I snag a blanket from the couch to wrap around her then draw her into my arms, holding her close until her tremors slow. Eventually she lifts her face from where she’s pressed it against my shirt. Her eyes are calm now, her smile genuine.

“Okay?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Yes,” she answers. “But I meant what I said. I need you,” and she stretches up to press her lips to mine.

The kiss is sweet and unhurried, her fingers twining into my hair and my hands covering her back. I’d be content to stay like this forever, just holding her, kissing her, making her mine again. But soon her fingers are drifting across my jaw, following the open collar of my shirt, opening the buttons one by one. When she struggles to work open my pants I move my hand down to help her, but she pushes it gently away.

“Let me,” she murmurs, “please.”

So I give her control, letting her ease me back onto the rug and remove my clothes piece by piece, greeting each newly-revealed inch of flesh with open-mouthed kisses. When I’m as naked as she is, Kathryn straddles me and sinks down onto me, leaning in to suck lightly at my neck and jaw, her nipples hard points against my chest. I spread my hands over her hips, following her easy movements as she grinds down on me, tightens around me, squeezes me until I can’t hold back any longer and let go, pulsing long and deep inside her.

Afterward she stretches out along my side and rests her cheek on my chest. We lie pressed as close as we can, my fingers drifting down her back, her mouth occasionally craning to brush mine until the computer chirps a warning that we are almost out of holodeck time.

We clean up and dress quickly. Kathryn makes a face as she carefully pulls on her leggings, and when I raise my eyebrows, silently asking her what’s wrong, she shrugs sheepishly.

“I need a shower in the worst way.”

I lean close, inhale and pretend to stagger backward holding my nose, and her smile widens as she punches me lightly on the arm.

“Such a gentleman.”

“Let me make up for it by escorting you home.” I bow extravagantly, take her hand and tuck it into my elbow as we move toward the exit. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I think I can manage that,” she smirks as we step through the holodeck doors, and her hand drops casually from my arm, her fingers catching and curling into mine.

My steps lag in surprise, and it’s only when she feels the pull on her hand from the increased distance between us that our fingers disentangle.

We’ve moved from our private cocoon into the public domain, and although the crew is used to seeing us together – used to our comfort with a slightly-less-than-professional distance between us, even used to my habit of hovering a protective palm over the small of her back, or hers of touching my chest or my face – she has never before let me take her hand in public.

In fact, she has always been careful to limit such expressions of affection even in private, so afraid is she of slipping up and giving herself away to the wrong audience. The crew knows she’s a tactile person and writes us off as close friends – or so she convinces herself – but there are certain gestures, certain words, that would unmistakably reveal our true feelings. And that’s something she refuses to allow.

It’s the one facet of our relationship on which we don’t quite see eye to eye.

Kathryn’s attention is focused on the external holodeck control panel – it’s another habit of hers to make doubly certain that we’ve erased all evidence of our activities – and my gaze wanders along the corridor.

Tom Paris is standing not five metres away, clearly having just exited the other holodeck. His wide eyes confirm that he hasn’t missed the unclasping of our hands.

My shoulders tense and I shoot him a silent snarl of warning; I’m certain that he won’t pass up this opportunity for a wisecrack and a supercilious grin and I’m already calculating strategies for damage control, both with Paris and with Kathryn, who’s almost guaranteed to hide herself away from me the minute she realises our secret is out –

But the grin never comes. Instead, Paris’ face breaks into a genuine, happy smile. He nods at me, mimes buttoning his lips, and quickly about-faces, disappearing down the corridor before Kathryn is even aware of his presence.

“Okay, I think we’re good,” she announces, straightening. “Chakotay?”

I make sure to tame the incredulous smile spread across my face before I turn back to her, holding out a hand to usher her along. “After you, Captain.”

She flashes me a flirty smile, then schools her expression ready for any crew we might encounter. We talk of trivial things as we walk along the corridor.

In the turbolift we stand side by side and my hand brushes hers, and she links our little fingers briefly before releasing me.

True to my word, I escort her to her quarters, waiting until she’s punched in her entry code before I offer a goodnight and tell her I’ll see her on the bridge. But she hesitates in the open doorway, glancing quickly along the corridor.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she admits, her voice hushed. “Come in for a nightcap?”

Inside, she waves me to the replicator and heads directly into the sonic shower, discarding her clothes as she goes. I toss them in the refresher for her and open a bottle of wine. When she returns minutes later, barefoot and wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt, I’ve made myself at home on the couch with a padd and a glass of cabernet on the low table beside me.

“Is there one of those for me?” she smiles, perching next to me.

“Here.” I pour her a glass and she tucks herself into my side, feet folded beneath her.

“What are you reading?”

I show her the padd. “Doc’s report on his trip through the alien subspace network. Sounds like he had a blast.”

Kathryn laughs, but it fades quickly into a frown.

“Hey.” I take her glass and place it on the coffee table. “What’s on your mind?”


“Pretty broad topic. Want to break it down for me a little?”

She gives a long sigh as she settles in with her back against my chest, my arms wrapping around her waist. “I’m happy they know we’re alive, Chakotay; don’t mistake me on that. But it does makes things more complicated.”

“How so?” I can’t resist letting my lips drift over her temple, and she tilts her head to let me kiss her cheekbone.

“The Doctor didn’t just bring back glad tidings, Chakotay. He gave Starfleet HQ a report on the past three years – or at least the highlights – and they were … troubled, to say the least –”

“Well, the Delta quadrant is no picnic,” I murmur, nuzzling into her neck. “But they did promise to find a way to bring us home.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Kathryn pulls away a little, turning her head to meet my eyes. “They were concerned by some of the decisions I’ve made since we encountered the Caretaker. Breaking the Prime Directive to strand us here in the first place, our involvement with Q, and then of course, the deal with the Borg…” She bites her lip. “But the decision they found most alarming was absorbing you and the other Maquis into this crew.”

That makes me frown. “How so?”

“Apparently,” she glances away, “it calls my judgment into question. I believe Admiral Jellico intends to launch a full investigation into the matter and make his recommendation to Starfleet Command.”

“What recommendation?”

“To strip me of my command,” she says flatly.

My eyebrows rise. “He’s made up his mind, then?”

“So it would seem.”

I can’t help snorting. “How exactly does he plan to investigate you from half a galaxy away, let alone relieve you of command?”

“He’ll find a way,” she mutters. She sits up and faces me, her eyes serious. “But it does reaffirm my belief that we need to keep this – you and I – to ourselves. If Jellico ever finds out about us, he’ll drag my reputation through the mud and dispute every command call I’ve ever made. Not to mention how my questionable impartiality might affect your chances of avoiding criminal charges, if we ever get home.”

When we get home,” I correct her automatically, then, “If this is your way of telling me we need to stop seeing each other –”

“Chakotay, I have no intention of giving you up,” she interrupts me firmly. “Starfleet Command has no idea how alone we are out here, or how difficult that is. No,” she cups my face in both hands, “being with you is the best decision I’ve ever made.”

I can’t help the relief in my smile.

“Hey,” she says, her eyes softening. “Don’t ever doubt how much I love you, okay?”

“Okay.” I grin at her. She’s careful not to say the words very often – afraid of accidentally revealing too much – but that doesn’t mean she feels them any less.


She leans in and kisses me. It’s slow and light and luscious at first, as though she’s sipping at my mouth. I let her take the lead, gradually deepening the contact until her tongue tangles with mine, until she rises up on her knees so she can pull me close. Then I slip my hands onto her thighs under the short hem of her T-shirt, and she shivers and lets her head fall back, lets me kiss my way down the length of her throat, over her collarbone, until I find the hard peak of her nipple, naked beneath soft cotton.

Kathryn groans and presses into my mouth and hands.

I push the shirt upward on my wrists, my fingers encountering smooth, bare heat and a familiar slickness between her legs, and I can’t help grinning smugly.

“Ready to go again, hmm?” I murmur, sliding two fingers into her tight, wet cunt and twisting them, curling them forward.

She gasps and bucks, her voice tight as she responds, “I guess I just can’t get enough of you…”

I pull my hand away and she whines in protest. “Relax,” I smirk at her, “I’m taking you to bed,” and I swing her into my arms and stride into her bedroom, laying her on her back. She watches through half-lidded eyes, hands drifting over her breasts and between her legs, while I strip off my clothes as quickly as I can, then immediately swoop down to cover her. With my knee I nudge her thighs wide apart and pin them under mine, and then I capture her wrists, raising them above her head and holding them firmly with one hand.

She moans in delight at my possessiveness, just as I knew she would.

With my other hand I grasp my hard and swollen cock and guide it between her legs, slicking the head over her clit, pressing tantalisingly just inside her entrance. Kathryn arches and wriggles, trying to trap me inside her, and I hold myself just out of reach, teasing her until she cries out impatiently.

“Fuck me,” she pleads, struggling against my restraining hands, circling her hips, smearing my cock with her wetness, “come on, Chakotay, I need you to fuck me!”

“Easy, sweetheart,” I smile down at her tenderly, and I push slowly inside her, so slowly I can feel every fluttering muscle, every internal ripple and ridge, as I enter her.

Her eyes drift closed, her limbs loosen and her lips part as she concentrates on the sensation, and when I’m buried inside her to the hilt she draws a shuddering breath and looks up at me. The emotion expressed in her blue eyes is so pure, so unfeigned that my throat squeezes.

“I love you,” spills out of me as I release her wrists, and instantly she brings her arms down to wrap tightly around me, rubbing her body against mine.

We keep it slow, our movements small and subtle, making it last. She’s first to climax – a rippling clench and release, not the blinding intensity of her earlier orgasms but no less satisfying – and I follow soon after in a blissful wave that leaves me content and utterly relaxed.

I help her strip off her T-shirt, turning her over to curl her back against my chest, enjoying the feeling of her in my arms for as long as I can. Eventually, though, I shift away and slip out of her bed.

“Where are you going?” Kathryn mumbles, half-asleep already.

“Back to my place.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t get up.”

“Wait.” She opens her eyes and sits up, bared to the waist and so beautiful I just want to crawl back into her arms. “I don’t want you to go.”

I pause in the act of fastening my pants.

“Stay,” she says, holding her hand out to me. “I want to wake up with you.”

“Are you sure?”

She’s never asked me to stay the night before. But she nods, smiling. “I’m sure.”

I grin at her, shucking my pants again and sliding under the sheet she invitingly holds open for me. Kathryn turns over, resuming our previous position and pulling my arm around her.

“What would people say?” I nuzzle the back of her neck, my hand flattening on her abdomen.

“Are you telling me you can’t keep a secret?” she counters, laying her hand over mine and entwining our fingers.

My penis nestles against the swell of her ass, softened and sticky but twitching as she wriggles a little.

“And Admiral Jellico?”

“Will never know,” she murmurs, her words tailing off into a yawn.

I think about waking up with her like this for the first time, pressed up against her soft curves with my hand curled around her breast, about kissing her shoulders and the nape of her neck until she wakes smiling and turns in my arms to press her mouth to mine, about sliding into her and taking it slow and easy, making it last …

Any intentions I may have had about telling her what Tom Paris knows dissipate like smoke. And as for Starfleet Command … what does it matter? They’re a lifetime away, and our life is right here, right now.

Closing my eyes, I savour the feeling of Kathryn’s body curled into mine as we both drift into sleep.

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