This is my contribution to the inevitable "they did it on shore leave" stories. Dedicated to Guinan, who asked for it...
Set after "Nemesis" but before Janeway cuts her hair
Night was just coming on when she chose to take a last walk along the beach, leaving her sandals at the cabin and wearing nothing but the cotton sundress that she’d worn that day while shopping in the local market. She’d purchased an interesting if not colorful array of fruits and vegetables, as well as trying what passed for the local rendition of cheese, before retiring back to the secluded dwelling.
This shore leave had been necessary for everything and everyone, including her. The ship had needed the maintenance time, and the locals were certainly happy about obliging their services for a few noxious run-off gases that were completely harmful to Voyager and completely useful to them. Amazing how one person’s trash was another man’s treasure.
The repairs were almost complete. Tonight would be her last night on the planet, in the quaint and charming little cottage that had been recommended to her by the both the Minster of Science and the Minister of Engineering on the planet. It was described as a retreat-type abode, and indeed it had turned out to be such a place. Set deep in the woods of what could only have literally translated to a ‘preserved forest’, it was actually not all that far away from the local marketplace and bazaar, yet with the woods intact and the ocean that separated the continents a short walk from her back door, Kathryn could not imagine a setting more peaceful.
And yet she herself was not.
She thought that getting away from it all would help. As Captain she was not allowed the luxury of simply disappearing, much as that was all she desired sometimes, and therefore had quietly wrapped up everything that needed attention and beamed planetside to spend 48 of her hours contemplating nothing more serious than what she should have for lunch.
But the problems of command followed her even to the planet; even though she received no communications due to the fact that whoever tried would have to have dealt with Tuvok first (Chakotay had beamed down the first day they were there, after his latest escapades she thought he needed more shore leave than the rest), and if not Tuvok, then surely the doctor.
Then again, they would have had to recover from the shock of finding out their Captain had taken shore leave without being hit over the head or threatened with removal from duty.
Twice on the first day she’d broken up an argument over the last piece of…something…in the bazaar, the second she’d stepped in between two crewmen looking to come to blows over a particular painting….it never failed. Either everyone was completely space-sick from looking at the same walls or they acted like juveniles on shore leave.
Would it ever end?
She crossed her arms over her stomach and unconsciously rubbed her chest. As if heartache was something she could assauge. No, there was no remedy for it, nothing except that which she was not allowed, not in the Delta Quadrant, not on a ship with only 15 decks and less than 200 people that were all inclined to gossip about the price of rice in China given the chance.
Cool water flowed over her toes from the waves, the white foam kissing and popping wtihout sound as it retraced its path, leaving behind packed, wet sand that her feet sank into slightly, marring the perfection with toe and heel prints.
She felt wetness on her face and realized that she was crying. It could have been put down to an allergic reaction, something in the air, if she was even in the mood for kidding herself, but she wasn’t, and deep in the very core of her body, a knot tightened painfully.
Warm arms startled her out of her reverie, dark, strong arms that encircled her and drew her back against an equally strong, firm chest, molding her to another body. Giving her strength in a strange way. She felt a hearbeat through her hair, felt eyes on her, felt life flow into her body.
And felt arousal twitch inside.
“I didn’t think you knew how to cry,” his voice was soft.
“I’m learning,” she answered, chuckling shakily, looking down at their intertwined hands and arms. Drawing in deep breaths was becoming easier, the tight band that had seized her chest had given way a little, and she was starting to feel drowsy.
He stopped short of asking her if she was all right, knowing that she wasn’t, knowing that he wasn’t either, hadn’t been for some time…maybe it had been the incident with the Borg, maybe it had been when she died, or maybe before that even, when they had donned their uniforms to beam back to the ship after Voyager’s return to New Earth.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, still quiet.
She shook her head. “I don’t know as there’s anything there to put into words,” she was resigned.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he whispered.
Kathryn started to several times, and then stopped, her tongue tripping over thoughts as she searched within herself. Finally she shook her head again. “I can’t.”
“Is it bad?” he asked curiously.
Yes. No. Yes. Maybe. She didn’t know that either. The confusion was back, the burdens, the loneli…she was not going to think about it.
“You don’t have to answer,” Chakotay rose, bringing her with him, deftly slipping his arms to her body and swinging her up. “I can tell by the look on your face that it is.”
For once, to her credit maybe, she didn’t disagree with him. Her arms looped his neck and he juggled her a bit, shifting her weight, holding it against him as he walked.
“How did you find me?” she asked instead.
“I’ve known where you were since before you beamed down,” he answered as if it was nothing at all, no secret to her location. “The rest of the crew doesn’t know, I don’t think even Tuvok does…well, undoubtedly he does, but they won’t bother you.”
“It’s a little late,” she chuckled again, relating her encounters of the past two days.
A smile broke out on his face, if a wan one, faint against the bronze dusk of his skin. She saw the shadows under his eyes, the shadows that had been growing and deepening for some time now, their actual starting point a mystery to both of them.
He opened the back door to the cottage and stepped into the kitchen, dark from the fact that Kathryn hadn’t lit the lamp before she’d gone on her stroll at dusk. He sat her gently on the counter and kept her in place with one hand on her thigh while getting a cool washcloth, which he wiped over her face with careful tenderness. In the moonlight that streamed in through the window, their eyes locked.
She wanted him. Protocols be damned, she wanted him. She was tired, and hurting, and shuddered to think what would happen when they left orbit, the next race they met could very well just blow Voyager to bits, never mind how much they didn’t want that to happen. He could die. She could die.
Both of them could die.
Something akin to a hiccup escaped her throat at the thought; his black eyes dilated a bit more, watching her curiously, sitting motionless before him. The countertop had the effect of raising her higher than he, so for once it was she that bent her head and slipped closer to kiss him gently.
It was cautious but sweet, a ginger, careful tasting of lips, almost as though they were curious teenagers that had never done such a thing before. She could taste fire, as if it was something that could be tasted, something sweet on his full lips and sweeter in his mouth when he parted them and dipped his tongue into her mouth, sliding it around her teeth, touching it with the tip of hers.
She was trembling when they parted, head sinking to his shoulder, his arms raising to wrap around her back and slide up the back of her neck, underneath her hair. She felt his fingers through the thin material of her dress, his fingers moving up and down and in tiny circles as though checking her for broken bones. In fact, that’s exactly what he was doing.
“What…” Kathryn tried to disengage herself, finding that he was holding her firmly. She struggled gently to no avail.
“Stop,” Chakotay’s voice was gentle, if commanding. “I just wanted to make sure you aren’t hurt.”
“Not on the outside,” escaped her lips in an involuntary grunt, before she thought about it, and heard him sigh.
“What’s the matter, Kathryn?” Now he did release her, to hold her face in his hands, keeping her there no matter what she wanted. “Tired? Lonely? Hurting? What…tell me what’s wrong with you.”
She shook her head, looking down at the floor, miserable right down to her bare, still sand-caked toes.
“Did someone hurt you?” Chakotay asked gently, though there was genuine concern in his eyes.
“No,” Kathryn answered, exasperated, tired of talking, tired of thinking, tired of everything and everyone. “I just wish…that I could go to sleep.”
Chakotay knew what she was saying, it didn’t take a psychiatrist or a Starfleet Counselor to figure it out. Sleep was a means of escape, a form of unearthly bliss where darkness wrapped the body and soul and suffused if not blocked out any negative forms of emotion.
“There’s only one problem with that,” he was soft, his hands encircling her small waist, “the same problems that are there when you fall asleep, will still be there when you wake up. It is a form of escape, but it’s…temporary.”
Their lips found each other again, as though drawn by some inexplainable, undetectable force, locking and fastening, more demanding this time, tongues sliding in and out of each others mouths in warm, silky caresses. He had soft, full lips, Kathryn thought, with an equally soft, warmer tongue that had a mind and life of its own. She sucked on it gently before he pulled away.
Without a word he reached to the dress, Kathryn shifting her weight slightly so that he was able to gather the hem of the bottom and pull it over her head in one smooth motion. Just like that, and she sat naked in front of him. He still said nothing as gentle kisses found her forehead, her cheeks, his tongue rimmed the edge of her ear, and a sob escaped her throat as his hand cradled the weight of a breast.
The nipple grew slightly darker, swelling, as Chakotay’s thumb brushed over the tip, forcing it to harden, though it didn’t need much help. His other hand joined the first on her other breast, and Kathryn was forced to lean back, supporting her weight on her hands, palms clamped to the counter, shuddering as his hands teased and tickled.
His left hand squeezed its captive gently, fingers slipping to the sensitive skin underneath, stroking curves and brushing the side, while his right hand remained still, his mouth busily devouring. He kissed gently, lapping at the nipple much as a cat lapped a dish of milk, taking it in his teeth, nibbling, nibbling, then nuzzling with his nose, enjoying the small whimpers that came from his love.
“That countertop must be hard,” Chakotay was gently sympathetic, lifting her from it and again taking her up in his arms. He found his way through the kitchen and main room of the cabin to the bedroom, dark and quiet save for the insects that thrummed in the woods, making a music all their own. “This…” he laid her down on the bed, “…will be better.”
The soft feather-down mattress was covered in some sort of bedding that was soft and smooth, even though it wasn’t silk or satin, just a set of sheets in a lovely light-blue color. Ruffly shams encased the pillows, one of which she had her head on. She tensed, stretched, and then relaxed against it. Chakotay moved to the other side, raised her head, and slipped the other pillow as well underneath.
Kathryn watched as he stripped his clothing, his shirt being tugged over his head after only two or three buttons, his shoes, socks, pants and underwear left in a pile on the floor. She rolled lazily on her side, elbow under her hair, reaching out a tentative hand to caress his thighs, feeling the coarse hair underneath her fingertips and sliding around to his buttocks.
He thrust forward involuntarily, all the momentum she needed to sit up and take him into her mouth, the suction up and down his length causing his knees to tremble. To avoid them buckling involuntarily, he fought for every second of control as he reached to break her mouth of his organ, finally tickling Kathryn’s jaws to make her relax.
Chakotay moved her, scooted her over on the bed so that he was able to lay down, head to feet and feet to head in both their cases. She wasted no time, her arms sliding up and down his legs as her soft mouth and lips encased him, exploring him, feeling him. He slid his own around her buttocks, gripping the soft flesh in his fingers, rolled her slightly to give himself a better angle, and dipped his tongue into her folds.
Her pink labia was already growing darker, the lips beginning to swell and part when he parted her more with his tongue. A hand came back twining between her legs to open her to him. He found her hardened nubbin of pleasure at the very tip of her folds, and ran the edge of his fingernail up and down the surface. He suckled at it gently, licking and moistening. A finger gently explored and probed, slipping to rest barely inside, stopping at the first knuckle, keeping her open as his thumb pressed down.
Kathryn was unable to keep her attention and task on him as she saw stars with her first orgasm, an orgasm that crashed down around her and caused her body to thrash, leaving her trembling to his gentle caresses of the soft skin on her inner thighs. It was never-ending, the stars not fading but expanding into dazzling streaks of light behind her eyes, the wave withrawing only to rush back to her, compounding her pleasure.
Chakotay knew what was happening, heard her scream and felt her clench, the tip of his finger slipping in and out gently to prolong the release. When she was left trembling, shaky and sweating, he maneuvered her to lay on her back again, head on the double pillows, and continued his previous actions.
She cried out again and again, his finger finally slipping deeply inside as he added another, keeping them still as he ran circles around her folds with his tongue and stopped to lick from her inner thighs to the floss that surrounded her pleasure, teasing it, brushing over it, resting his hand against her stomach, both to hold her gently in place, keeping her from hurting herself with her thrashing (even though he doubted if she’d feel it, in her condition), and to feel her coming along with her own self.
It was marvelous when it started, the rippling of muscle in her belly, tracing down to her abdomen, multiplying in the juncture of her legs and body as they fired to create a multitude of juices that Chakotay readily accepted, moving to grasp her buttocks again, lifting her to his mouth as he lapped and licked.
When it was definitely over, he moved his mouth to rim her belly button, nuzzling up her body, tasting the sweaty sheen that formed and ran through the valley of her breasts in rivulets, her trembling in no way eased by him stopping his task. If anything, it had increased.
“Did you like that?” he whispered knowingly in her ear, covering her body with his, kissing her neck with gentle but deep running passion.
“I…can’t…move…” Kathryn whispered. Her hands made fruitless, vain attempts, fluttering, trying to encompass him as not even her arms would stop shaking. Her mind would not obey, could not even think of what she had been trying to do, her eyes glazed but full of love, face flushed.
“It’s all right,” he assured her, catching her hands, pinning them gently above her head as the head of his hardness poised, the very tip parting, slipping her folds. In one smooth gesture, he was buried to the hilt.
“I can’t stop it…” it sounded like an afterthought, a whimper of desperation, but was cut off by a loud moan as she orgasmed again. Her inner walls clenched him and he fought to keep from climaxing before it was even started, riding out the trembling with her, kissing her temple and cheek with tenderness before moving to thrust.
Kathryn was on fire. She felt the shock waves ripple through her abdomen and spread to her entire body, shattering her into thousands of pieces, effective causing a neural overload that made it impossible to do anything but ride the waves. Chakotay’s propulsions were smooth and gentle, his hardened manhood slipping in and out, burying himself to the hilt before pulling to the tip, his natural ridges and contours being molded in the very muscles of her being. She brought her head to rest on his shoulder, keeping her forehead pressed against his hot skin, he released her hands to hold her there against him, and hers slid around his back. The pillows had the effect of raising her upper body closer to him, something she realized he must have planned from the very moment he put them there. She felt his fingertips at the back of one of her thighs, felt one leg pushed a little higher than the other, opening her more, the digits causing tremors of their own, a spider’s web of tintilations in such an area rarely touched by Kathryn herself.
The hand moved, brushing her curls again, bringing her perilously close, teetering her on the edge of a cliff, the tip of this thumb sought her knot of pleasure, even with him so deeply inside. She felt his touch, both from his finger and the edge of his cock that for the first time pressed her cervix, the friction enough to cause one last ecstatic tightening, and they came together.
Kathryn cried out one last time, grinding against him, fighting to thrash as her body never seemed capable of before, unable to with him holding her head in the manner he was, more so since his fingers tightened against her. She heard his cry into her ear, keening on the very last part, and they held each other as the aftershocks coursed through them both, their bucking against each other very liberating to her.
Chakotay felt himself lengthen, felt his hot, thick fluid explode from his manhood, and buried his face in the place where her neck joined her shoulder, crying out and sobbing. For a time they could not move save for the involuntarily bucking of their interlocked junctures, until his spent organ softened enough to slip gently from Kathryn, her legs still hugging the sides of his body.
“Chakotay…” Kathryn whispered, her voice shaking with emotions. He lifted his head and saw the tears that spilled down her face, the tears of joy that matched his own. Her eyes were red and swollen.
“Kathryn,” he chucked her chin and lovingly brushed them away, twining his hands in her reddish-brown tresses, kissing her forehead, holding her face still. Neither wanted to be the first to break the embrace, but finally Chakotay rolled from her, keeping her cradled against him.
“You must be pretty sore,” he gave her a tenderly amused smile. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she was still gasping and hiccupping, her legs stretching and uncramping from her mind-blowing experience. Searching his face, only two words came to mind. “Thank you.”
Another smile, dazzling with dimples. “You’re welcome.”
He bathed her gently in warm water, short but thorough, giving her a glass of cold water and pinning her hair up so the bathwater wouldn’t get it too wet. She drank what he gave her, went limp for him in the water, and allowed him to towel her dry. It wasn’t until he was leaving to fetch her nightgown that she caught his wrist.
“Stay with me,” she whispered to him, and watched his face smooth into another smile.
“I wasn’t going anywhere,” he promised her, taking and kissing the inside of her wrist, her palm, disappearing and instead bringing her his shirt, slipping it over her head, more of a loving gesture than him stripping her clothes off. They fell asleep in the same bed that had seen their earlier lovemaking, entwined in each others arms, after promises of love and laughter and the years of trust to come.
They were both smiling when they finally drifted off.
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