By janezy. Send Feedback to janezy@yahoo.com
Rated: NC-17
Written: December 22, 2002
VOY -- J/C
Unforgivably sappy answer to Sally M's challenge on the Yahoo group Shared Quarters: write an NC-17 story in response to this picture. Forgive the No Doubt-inspired title. I don't even really like the song, but it seemed to fit.
Chakotay, Starfleet commander and executive officer of the Starship Voyager, stood at the top of the stairs, mouth agape, staring at said starship's resident ambassador, Neelix.
"What?!" Chakotay asked, incredulously. Neelix couldn't possibly have said what he thought he just said.
"I said, 'Just drop your pants and we can be on our way, Commander.'" The Talaxian's smile was a bit too large, and his embarrassment showed in the quivering of his whiskers. Surely, the commander would not make him look foolish in the face of their latest trading partners, the Ashtelobi.
"I heard you the first time, Neelix," said Chakotay in a forced whisper. "I was hoping you would elaborate as to *why*."
"Oh!" said Neelix excitedly. "Did I fail to mention it earlier? It is the traditional greeting of the Ashtelobi when dealing with strangers. Much like the showing of open hands among many of Earth's cultures, it is meant to demonstrate that the people doing business together come bearing no secrets, no weapons. It is a show of good faith. I was certain I had included that in the pre-mission brief I sent you yesterday."
"You most certainly did not," replied the commander through gritted teeth. "I would have worn better underwear." Chakotay had been annoyed by Neelix from time to time, but never had he felt this level of hostility. He closed his eyes and took several calming breaths. He had to remind himself that Neelix was only trying to help. He was devoted to the ship and, in most instances, conducted himself with the utmost level of decorum. Besides, it wasn't Neelix's fault that today was laundry day, leaving Chakotay with only these very unflattering briefs, which once were white and crisp and now did a barely passable imitation of either. Grumbling to himself, he undid the fastenings of his pants and proved to the Ashtelobi that, in fact, his Starfleet-issued undies concealed nothing.
The small snicker from behind him would hardly be audible to most, but he always had his hearing specially turned to pick up any slight noise from his captain. Usually, this was a good thing. He could discern her concern for the trustworthiness of a trade partner with the clearing of her throat. He knew when she wanted to leave a party from a stifled yawn. He could tell with a cough the moment that her amusement with the antics of their pilot, Tom Paris, turned to aggravation. And now, he could sense her laughter at this situation. She thought the image of him with his pants down around his ankles was quite humorous. Perhaps one day, he would feel the same. But for right now, he was desperate only for someone to share in his pain.
He turned slowly and fixed his eyes on his commanding officer. "Captain, I didn't know you would be joining us."
"A last-minute decision," said the captain with the professional smile she'd practiced in the mirror for years for just such an occasion. Well, she'd never actually dreamed this exact occasion would come up, but she'd prepared for the eventuality that she would have to remain "Captain Kathryn Janeway" while wishing she could break down in laughter. Over the years, this smile had become standard-issue while dealing with Mr. Paris.
"Excellent," replied Chakotay with equally false cheer. It just figured that the first time the captain saw him in his underwear, it would be the worst pair he owned. He vowed to burn them the second he returned to the ship. But then, something else started to occur to him. His pants were down. He'd avoided looking with all that was in him, but he knew Neelix's pants were down. The pants of every member of the Ashtelobi negotiation team were down. The captain's pants, however, were up. He didn't have to be falsely cheerful. He could exhibit real cheer. He echoed Neelix's words joyfully:
"Just drop your pants and we can be on our way, Captain." The wicked glee could not be hidden from his eyes.
"Of course," replied the captain, as she lowered her pants and stood proudly before the Ashtelobi.
The wicked glee in Chakotay's eyes became wickedness of an entirely different sort. The captain must have gotten whatever memo Neelix swore he sent out. He'd never seen a better-groomed set of legs. They were firm and creamy and hairless and they led upward to heaven, masked by pink silk and lace. He damned himself for ever having seen it. He'd certainly never get the image out of his mind again.
After a few traditional greetings, everyone in the party pulled their garments back into position. Chakotay stumbled through the negotiations and managed to end up without entirely humiliating himself or his ship. But it was all a ruse. He couldn't stop thinking about Kathryn and her underwear. Or, more to the point, what was under her underwear. And the more he tried to stop thinking about it, the more he thought about it. Like the old adage says: If you try not to think about a Klingon ballerina, you'll never get the dancing bat'leths out of your mind.
He thought once he returned to the ship, everything else would go back to normal. He was wrong. He did manage to fall somewhat back into his old routine, but he was distracted several times a day by pink silk and lace prancing across his synapses. He was steadily building an obsession. And he knew it had to stop.
He grabbed up a stack of reports and rushed from his office, startling the two crewmen waiting outside for their appraisals. He muttered apologies and hurried to the bridge, waving Tuvok back into the captain's chair and walking straight to the ready room.
Inside her sanctuary, Kathryn was getting herself her third cup of coffee for the morning. The door chimed and she called for entrance as she settled into her chair. She smiled when Chakotay walked in. She had barely seen him since they left Ashtelobi.
"Commander," she said jovially. "Have a seat."
"I just came to drop off these reports," he said, dropping the padds to her desk. While he'd planned out carefully what he would say to her, he wasn't sure he now had the courage to say it.
"Oh," she said, disappointment replacing the smile on her face. "Thank you." She picked up the first in the stack and saw that it was nothing important. He could have had a courier drop them off, as he'd been doing for weeks. She noticed that he had yet to leave and thought about inviting him to lunch. But, the crease in his brow was not normal. He was troubled about something.
"Is there something else?" she asked hopefully. He stopped staring at his shoes long enough to look her in the eyes, but still couldn't get the words out. "I can see something is bothering you, Chakotay. Maybe you'd feel better if you talk about it."
That was the point after all. He had to get this whole foolish thing out of his system. "It's about the incident with the Ashtelobi," he began, but seemed unable to continue.
Kathryn's eyes displayed her confusion. The Ashtelobi had been a perfectly hospitable race. The negotiations had gone well and the ship was stocked for months to come. She couldn’t for the life of her think of the "incident" he had in mind. "What incident?"
"With the salutations," he said, and understanding began to creep in. The Ashtelobi's traditional greeting was a bit odd, but it was over quickly and she hadn't given it a second thought. Apparently, Chakotay had not felt the same.
"The thing is," he said nervously, tugging on his ear, "I've seen you at your best."
She reddened slightly at the thought. She had spent a bit of extra time with her morning preparations that day, and had replicated new underwear for the occasion. She was very grateful that Neelix had prepared her so thoroughly. The man seemed to always know what was going on; she really should give him a commendation one of these days.
"But," Chakotay continued, "you've seen me at my worst."
"Pardon?" said the captain, confusion returning.
"My underwear," he said, exasperatedly. Why couldn't she follow this? It all seemed perfectly logical to him.
"Your underwear," she repeated, trying to figure out what he meant by it all.
"Yes, my underwear! It was not my best pair, you know."
"Oh," she said, brushing the thought aside with her hand. "I didn't think anything of it. You've nothing to be ashamed of. Mark's underwear looked just the same." As did every man's, she suspected. Women took pains to wear sexy undergarments. Men just wore any old thing. It was to be expected.
"Well, most of mine don't," he said pointedly.
She thought about it for a few moments, but still couldn't see the connection. "It doesn't really matter anyway, does it? I mean, it's just underwear."
"'Just underwear,'" he repeated in disbelief. "I haven't been able to get the thought of your underwear out of my head. It's very distracting."
"But it's been over a month," she replied, her own disbelief apparent.
"I know, which is why this is so ridiculous."
"Just stop thinking about it," she said dismissively, thinking the matter dealt with.
"I can't. It holds too much power over me."
"The idea of me in my underwear holds power over you."
"No," he said, getting a bit angry at her lack of sympathy. "I've seen you at your best. You've seen me at my worst. It's totally tipped the scales."
"Well, really, there's nothing to be done about it now. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't thought of it at all."
That most certainly did *not* make him feel better. "Of course you haven't. You're the one with the power. You just take it for granted."
"I'm the captain. I always have the power."
"And I'm the executive officer. Second-in-command. I can't be made to feel lower than the lowest crewman."
"This is just ridiculous, Chakotay. You're simply making more of this than you should."
"Be that as it may, I'd like a chance to prove myself."
"Prove yourself? You have nothing to prove."
"I have plenty to prove," he said, holding back his aggression.
"I hardly think -- "
" -- I want you to come to my quarters tonight," he interrupted. "1900 hours."
"It's really not appropriate for me to -- "
" -- You *will* be there," he interrupted again, forcefully.
He was bordering on insubordination, the captain thought. But, it was obviously important to him. She couldn't lose such an excellent first officer as he to something so juvenile. She would go to his quarters, pretend to be impressed, and things could get back to normal.
"All right," she conceded , nodding her head. "1900 hours."
Chakotay let out a small sigh of relief. "Good," he said, and left the ready room as quickly as he'd come in.
After he left, Kathryn went directly back to her work. But thoughts started to creep in the sides of her mind. Unusual thoughts. He'd said he'd something to prove. What could it be? She'd never been very good with surprises. As a girl. she'd always searched her parents' room for birthday presents. She couldn't wait for gifts. Of course, this wasn't a gift, she thought, and laughed to herself. This was just plain foolishness, and she couldn't believe she was indulging in it. She tried to stop thinking about it and get back to work. But it was strange. The more she tried to stop thinking about what he could possibly have in store for her, the more she thought about that very thing. By the time 1900 hours rolled around, she was ready to practically tackle Chakotay and pull down his pants, just to see what was under there.
She rang the chime to his quarters and was surprised when he opened the door himself, rather than calling for its opening. He stood before her, closer than he'd been in a long time. She was assaulted first by the smell of him, somehow musky and sweet at the same time, then by the sight of his dusky skin, highlighted by the creamy linen shirt he wore, open for the first three buttons. She gazed down to where the shirt was tucked into his crisp, black trousers and considered briefly ripping them open.
"Kathryn," he said in a sultry voice she couldn't recall ever hearing before. "Do come in." He had been a bit unsure of this course of action, but was feeling better all the time. Just seeing how unsettled she was gave him cause to rejoice. Finally, they would be equals again in their mutual discomfort.
"I thought we'd have some dinner," he said casually, steering her toward the dining nook. Like the rest of the cabin, it was lit only with candles.
Kathryn bit back a protest. She couldn't seem too eager. It would be all too much fun for Chakotay. Well, two could play this game. "Of course," she said as if she hadn't a care in the world. "I'm quite hungry."
"I'm sure you are," he said. She couldn't fool him; he knew her all too well and knew the anticipation was killing her. He helped her into her chair, then removed the napkin from the table and smoothed it slowly over her lap. He smiled as she tried to hide a small gasp and once again praised his specially attuned hearing.
He drew out dinner as long as he could, serving each of the five courses separately and with great aplomb. He smiled inwardly at the captain's distraction, and reveled at the way her eyes traveled to his pants every time he stood, in what she probably believed was a very covert manner.
Finally, he stood and offered a hand to his captain. "Well, as lovely as this is, I believe we have some business to attend to."
"Yes, quite," she agreed with markedly false disappointment. He knew what she wanted. And she suspected he knew. And, of course, he was certain she suspected he knew. Just as he had planned.
She settled herself on the couch and he stood opposite, waiting for her full attention. When he had it, he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. "So it won't get in the way," he said, drawing it aside to reveal his muscular, hairless chest. Then, just as carefully, he unfastened his pants and drew them down.
Kathryn simply stared. She never really knew men's underwear could look good. Really, the whole penis concept was rather absurd and she was just grateful that they were covered up for the most part and she didn't have to look at them, dangling around in front of her.
Chakotay's package, however, could hardly be described as dangling. In fact, it was relatively firm. She wondered briefly if he'd been semi-hard all night and the thought thrilled her, that she could keep someone in that state so long. His legs were as beautiful as his chest and they led to the tightly clinging, leopard-patterned underwear.
After what she hoped was not too long of an awkward silence, Kathryn cleared her throat. "They say you shouldn't wear tight underwear like that if you plan to have children," she said, then instantly wondered why she'd said it.
"Really," he remarked casually. "I'm touched for your concern for my future children." Laughter rumbled in his chest, rippling down his stomach and causing a lilting bounce in his underwear.
"Yes," she said, blinking rather more often than was necessary. Finally, she forced her eyes back up to his. "I hope you feel we're even now."
"Just about." He sensed the arousal pouring off her in waves. "Of course, it's not so much the underwear as what's beneath the underwear that counts."
Before she could protest, he removed what remained of his clothing and stood before her completely nude. She began to wonder what she'd ever thought silly about male genitalia. He was marvelous -- firm and proud. She longed to run her tongue down his shaft and hold his balls in her hand. But, that would be completely inappropriate.
"That's completely inappropriate," she stuttered out, unable to block her own evil thoughts.
"Probably, but don't try to tell me you're not enjoying it."
"Not at all. This is without a doubt the stupidest thing you've ever done. And that includes your relationship with Seska." He brushed aside her reference to his failed romance. She only ever brought Seska up when she was good and truly rattled, something she hadn't been for several years. She put on a good show of offence -- one which he didn't buy for a second.
"This would be much more convincing," he said kneeling before her, "if you weren't more aroused than a targ in heat."
"What?!" she protested, perhaps a bit too vehemently. "I am most certainly not aroused and -- " she became suddenly distracted by his hands traveling up her legs, under her skirt.
He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I could smell you from across the room. Of course, I don't have to, when I can feel how wet you are." His fingers slipped into the leg hole of her underwear and dipped into her slick passage. Obviously, he was not the only one who had been in a near-constant state of arousal all evening.
"You've gone and gotten yourself all dirty," he said, still breathing hotly into her ear as he worked his middle finger in and out of her. He kissed her earlobe and worked his way down to the spot just behind her ear he knew she'd respond to. He'd studied for years her reactions when he leaned over to whisper purportedly business-related messages into her ears. And he wasn't wrong.
As he eased her down onto the couch, she thought about how she could stop him. He'd gone to far, but it wasn't unstoppable yet. It was just a finger, sliding in and out, in and out, pushing her ever closer to the brink. She could stop him. His second hand began unbuttoning her blouse and found a hard nipple to tease. Of course she could stop him. But she hadn't had a really good orgasm in years. It couldn't be healthy to have that all pent up.
He could feel her giving in to him. But he just couldn't be happy with that. He had to control her. She'd been in complete control of him for so long. Turnabout was only fair play. "Say it," he ordered. "Say you're a dirty girl."
That's disgusting, she thought. What is that girl thing about, anyway? Some sort of pedophilic fantasy? Of course, she wasn't a girl. And the way he was now manipulating her clitoris made her feel more like a woman than she'd felt in a long time.
"I'm dirty," she gasped out. "Very dirty."
"Well then. Let's get you cleaned up."
And before she knew what was happening, he had removed her underwear and buried his face in her cunt. He was eating her rapidly, as if truly trying to lick the signs of arousal from every nook and cranny. The only problem with that approach was that there always seemed to be more moisture where that came from. Of course, it didn't stop him from trying. And it didn't stop her from screaming out her enjoyment of his attempts, no fewer than three times. She wasn't sure she could keep this up. She was out of sexual shape, so to speak. She was breathing hard and her heart was beating so fast she thought it would combust in her chest.
He could feel her pulse beating rapidly beneath his hand where it rested on her flat stomach. As he brought her slowly down from her third orgasm, he decided he'd had enough with the preliminaries. It was time for the main event.
She was surprised to feel almost no discomfort as he entered her. After all, she was small and her passage had contracted with disuse. And he could be described as anything but small. His firm shaft, while not extraordinarily long, was nearly the circumference of her wrist. It seemed that size, in some respects, really did matter. As he pounded in and out of her, she thought briefly that he was touching spots of her which had never been touched before. Spots which obviously enjoyed being touched. Her fourth orgasm came as a bit of a surprise to her, being that she'd only once before ever had an orgasm during actual intercourse. But it wasn't nearly as surprising as the fifth, which sent her to a place she'd had no conception even existed. The cabin ceiling exploded in color and then faded as black sparks shot through her vision, making everything pleasantly hazy. She felt warm and loved. She wrapped her legs around Chakotay's back, shivering at the thought that he would at some point remove himself from her. It was entirely impractical, but she had a vision of being attached to him 24 hours a day, feeling him move within her as she bounced in his arms from meeting to meeting. She started laughing, until tears trickled out of her eyes. And then the tears weren't of laughter, but she couldn't exactly say what they were for.
Chakotay brushed the tears aside with callused thumbs and soft lips. "Shh," he mumbled. "It's okay. Nothing to cry over."
"I know," she said, sniffling and becoming suddenly ashamed. "I don't know why I'm crying. It's silly really." She turned her head to the side so he wouldn't keep looking at her with those dark eyes, like deep pools that reflected her very soul.
He eased her face back up, forcing her to see the sincerity in his eyes. "It's just that we've finally seen what is underneath it all. We've bared ourselves completely, so that nothing is hidden, nor can ever be again."
"Oh, is that all?" she said, trying to brush off his sentiments. She couldn't take this too seriously. It was sex, and nothing more.
"I know you think this was sex, and nothing more," he said, completely startling her. Perhaps there was something to be said for this whole nothing can be hidden ever again thing. "But it's not," he continued.
"We shouldn't have done it," she said.
"Probably not," he agreed. "But there's no taking it back now. There's no saying that we're not good for each other. That we're not meant to be together."
"I'll grant you, it was good -- "
" -- Great," he interrupted.
"All right, great, but -- "
" -- Great sex comes only from love. Sex can be good without it. Fun. Very pleasurable even. But not great."
She thought about that. Great sex comes only from . . . "Are you saying you love me?"
"Of course I do," he said as if she were a foolish child to think anything otherwise. "And now I know you love me."
She began to protest, but he would hear nothing of it. "You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth. And if you decide we're never to be together again, I will still know the truth, and it will comfort me. For however brief the moment, you loved me once."
Her mind instantly protested the idea of them never being together again. How could she live with him, work with him, day after day, and not think about this moment and all the potential future moments. "That's the talk of a philosopher. I'm a scientist."
"I can talk like a scientist too. Any experiment worth anything must be repeated many times, under both similar and alternative conditions, to test the validity of the theory."
"Alternative conditions?"
"Well, we've tested it in my quarters. We'll of course have to try your quarters, any number of holodeck simulations, the turbolift, the Jeffries tubes."
"The ready room."
He quirked his eyebrow. "The ready room, eh? Perhaps you have some room left to surprise me after all."
"Good," she said. "You can't hold all the cards." She drew him into a kiss and felt both the scientist and the philosopher within her concede to the notion. Love is what's underneath it all.
Like it? Hate it? Drop me a line and let me know. janezy@yahoo.com
