SUMMARY: Ye goodness! It’s a pwp!
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Characters – not mine, story - mine
She runs, ever onward, never looking back. The ground shifts beneath her feet, the dull roar assaults her ears, and she can hear the sound of footsteps behind her. She knows not where she is going but only knows that she must not stop.
The footsteps get closer; her pursuer is closing in. She’s almost out of breath but knows that if she stops she will be caught. And so she keeps going, ignoring everything around her.
But the ground will be her enemy. She stumbles and falls, hands flying out to catch herself, as though she could launch herself back onto her feet with the momentum.
Two hands grasp at her from behind.
“Having fun yet, Kathryn?” a voice asks.
She rolls over, succeeds in dragging her opponent down with her. “Best fun in years,” she grins. “I suppose you want me to say thank you now.”
He pins her down so that his body is leaning over hers. “Would be nice,” he tells her.
She remains silent but her eyes stare into his, as if daring him to take things a step further.
He does not disappoint. He lowers his body so that his pelvis is lying against hers and shifts slowly from side to side. She can feel his arousal; his erection presses against her and she begins to sense an increasing want in her, a need in her.
“Chakotay,” she groans before being silenced with a kiss. It is a kiss like no other, starting tenderly at first but soon assaulting not only her mouth but her mind as well. It only ends when she begins wondering if she might die of suffocation.
“What is it, my love?” he asks. It would be easy for the outsider to look upon this as question created out of tenderness but she can see the gleam in his eye, the flash of brilliance in the dark orbs that display his desire.
He pulls away from her, sits up, and reaches down to undo her shirt. He notices the front fastening on the bra and undoes that as well so that she lies vulnerable before him. “So beautiful,” he murmurs as his mouth latches onto one of her breasts. His powerful hand gently caresses the other.
“And all yours, my dear,” she replies in a sultry tone.
He looks back up at her, and his mouth forms into a smile around her nipple. He then switches his attention to her other breast, suckling it thoroughly. She sighs in pleasure.
He hears her sigh and lifts his head up. “You like that?” he asks her but he does not wait for an answer. The gleam in his eye is even more apparent now as he gently begins to kiss his way down her body. She props herself up on her elbows, taking a keen delight in watching him tend to her. She adores how he worships her body, as though he’s reminding her just how much of her is Kathryn. He told her once that her naked body was the true Kathryn, and that the uniform was the captain. She’s not quite completely certain what he meant by that but she knows that he treasures seeing her like this. Such moments as these are precious to her.
His lips are now at her waistline and he looks back up at her, slowly undoing her shorts, damnably slowly. She wants him to rip them open, pull them off of her but instead he takes his time, ensuring that she is driven increasingly mad with desire for him. Finally, however, he begins to pull the shorts down her legs and with them, her underwear. She tries to hasten the process, kicking the offensive articles away from her.
The sand is hot beneath her. It shifts and she wonders if it’s possible to sink into it. The grains begin to trickle down around her, in her. “Shirt,” she gasps, reaching to him.
He sits up, straddling her legs, and pulls his T-shirt over his head. The sun reflects off his skin and she closes her eyes briefly as though the sight overwhelms her. He shifts slightly and she raises her hips up as he slides the material under her. The flow of sand stops and she instantly feels more comfortable.
“Happy now?” he asks. She nods.
He slides further down her body and she swallows as his tongue begins to lap at her, gently yet insistently. His hands drift upwards to grasp her waist and she is trapped, lovingly enduring his ministrations. That a man can enjoy doing this to her is still something she marvels over. She thrusts up to meet his tongue as it probes ever deeper inside her and she moans his name. Finally he pulls away from her but her groan of disappointment is muted as he places his lips back over hers. She tastes herself on him.
Her hands begin to move now, attacking his own shorts. The button holding them closed digs sharply into her, the feel of it contrasting with the feel of him pressing against her through the material. She struggles to get her hands to the fastenings and finally she succeeds in getting them open. He leans up and the shorts are slid away from his body, along with his accompanying underwear.
Now they are truly touching each other, hands roaming over the other. She bucks as he slides a finger inside her wet, wanting body and he groans as she begins to run a fingertip along his length. She loves to feel the hardness of him, revels in the knowledge that he is reacting this way because of her, that she does this to him.
She hears his breath catch, knows that both of them must be close. “Chakotay,” she whispers his name almost in prayer. She needs him, wants him desperately. The feel of him pushing against her is bested only by the feeling of him pushing inside her.
He shifts slightly, the ground moving beneath her back with his movements. His hands are placed by her shoulders as he lifts up to position himself, to centre his weight. She finds herself lost in his gaze as he bears down upon her and into her.
She bucks with the first touch, the first intrusion. As her pelvis tilts upwards he slides in further and her hands go around his back to pull him in further. She needs to capture all of him, to hold all of him and so she hangs on, determined to complete his surrender.
That surrender is not long in coming. His breath is heavy, the thrusts firm and soon she can feel every last inch of him embedded inside her. She clenches her inner muscles, enjoys the sounds he makes as he fights for control. But she knows she has him and that knowledge spurs her on, encourages her to reach her own peak until both come crashing down with a shout.
The sun is setting when they finally move. Silently they gather their clothes together and dress, although he opts to carry his now soiled shirt over his arm. He takes her hand and they walk back to the oceanfront shack that they are occupying during their shore leave. Above them the gulls circle and cry out and the atmosphere is heavy with the smell of the sea. The waves continue to crash against the shore and a chill begins to permeate through the air with the gentle breeze that comes off the water.
None of this matters to Kathryn and Chakotay.
FINIS