Title: PERMISSION GRANTED
Author: KatieAbe
Fandom: VOY
Codes: J/Tal, J/7 reference
Archive: Go for it
Rating: NC-17
Part: 1/1
Disclaimer: Paramount owns them. I like to watch them. Life is good.
Summary: (After "The Good Shepherd"). PWP. A dark and dirty exploration of a certain 'something' I saw between Janeway and Tal. Angst warning.
The Captain is moaning softly as I wedge my slim thigh between her legs. I feel a hard heat roiling my core as my breasts meet hers.
It's always so dark in her quarters. I can barely see her eyelashes flutter in the dim starlight. I feel her more than I can see her, smelling her sweet heat.
She feels wonderful in my arms.
I want to devour her with my kisses, my tongue, my hands, my eyes.
She shudders when I slide my hand down her hard belly, slipping a finger provocatively around her silky, wet folds.
"Yes," she whispers huskily, clutching the back of my neck, pressing her soft lips against my own. She thrusts her tongue far in my mouth, and I am filled with her taste. I suck her tongue gently, inhaling as she groans into me.
I can tell by the way her hips seek my fingers, she wants more. Much more. Her muscles taut and straining.
There are times when she wants our lovemaking rough. Hard bites and forceful penetrations. The Captain's voice sultry and demanding. Those times she won't wait for my explorations, impatiently moving my hands to her breasts, her sex. Exorcising the demons chasing her through the Delta Quadrant.
Instead, tonight I tease her, flicking my fingertips softly over the dark curls between her legs, spreading her delicious wetness around her hardening clit, and withdrawing my touch to tantalize her again.
I watch her closed eyes, and try to entice her to the edge of release. I want to make her ache. Make her surrender.
I capture a puckered nipple between my teeth and dance my tongue on it. I hear a small yelp when I also tap lightly on her pearl, slipping my fingers easily inside her, curling them, beckoning. Come to me. Come for me.
I know her body so well now. I feel her quickening breath, her clutch and release, drawing me deep when I slide slippery fingers in, then out.
When I finally circle my thumb around her clit, she gasps, digging her nails into my shoulder.
My eyes flash in the dark, looking for curves I can't see. My mouth travels on its own, away from her firm nipple, replaced by the finger tips of my free hand. I kiss and nip softly down her flat stomach, on a voyage of bliss.
She's drawing circles with her thumb in my hair, pushing my head down as I shimmy toward her heat.
I inhale her deeply and her scent intoxicates me.
Sweet and tangy, like the Moba fruit of home, with a distant hint of coffee. My mouth waters. I feel a powerful ache explode in my body, down my spine, through my stomach. I kiss her mound first, eagerly diving my mouth into her wetness. My saliva and her essence smearing on my chin.
She grunts when I push my tongue into her, swirling it around, then use it to spell my name on her clit.
She doesn't know I do this. But I know she likes it when I do.
"Oh," she exhales, when I tease her with Capital T (her favorite). I move to "A" (lingering at the apex), then L (sucking her beautiful engorged lips).
I can hear her breathing harder now, her head thrown back, mouth open. I'll mark her again and again with the rest of my name.
C. E. L. E. S.
Then I start over.
The Captain calls me Celes when we're not alone. I can't help brightening when she does. Others she calls by some title. Crewman. Commander. Mister. Lieutenant.
Me, I'm always just Celes. To my ears, it comes out of her mouth like a caress. I don't think anyone notices. But I do.
She's mewing and writhing on my mouth now.
I know she's going to climax soon, and I'm reeling from her lust.
"Seven," she whispers hoarsely, clutching me, her groin lifting into the letters on the tip of my tongue.
For a moment I'm startled, blinking quickly in the dark. I ease my mouth away from the Captain's softness, swallowing once.
That's not my name. That's not me.
Seven.
Seven of Nine is the head of my department, Astrometrics.
My surprise lasts only a moment, and I stroke the Captain's thigh, then pinch a nipple so she won't know I've heard her. I move to taste her again, but it's too late.
She stiffens and stops moving under me, shyly bringing her knees a little closer together.
I know she loves her. Her Seven. I've known forever that she loves her. Wants her. Craves her. I've seen how the Captain's blue gray eyes soften when she looks at Seven of Nine. Her voice, warm and low, when the two women are in Astrometrics.
I've noticed the Captain can't seem to keep her eyes, or her hands, away from Seven. She touches her constantly. Usually a hand on a shoulder or a bicep, sliding close when they examine star charts. I saw the Captain once talking with Seven, fist under her chin, eyes twinkling, her body at ease. She's flirting with her, I thought.
I see everything. I say nothing.
The Captain doesn't know how I watch Seven, too, when they are together. I've seen how those cerulean eyes follow the Captain's every move. How Seven's breathing always becomes faster in the Captain's presence. Her gaze lingering, ravenous.
With me, Seven is harsh. My work as a sensor analyst is never good enough and she never trusts me with anything important. In the time it takes Seven to watch the Captain leave Astrometrics and turn her attention to me, her eyes go from keen and intense to hard and hollow.
Sometimes I tremble around Seven.
Other times, I wonder if she knows about us. I don't think she knows. Billy doesn't even know, even though we've talked so many times, late at night, over the combadge.
I cherish each kind word and casual caress the Captain gives me. She told me once she liked my unconventional thinking. I laugh about it now, but I lived on that compliment for days. I already loved her then.
In the rare times she invites me to her quarters for dinner, my heart sings.
Sometimes we don't eat at all when the time is short. She takes me right to her bed, to the warmth under her Starfleet sheets. They are infused with her smell and when she's not looking, I inhale them.
I want the Captain too much. Although right now it's enough to touch her like this, in the starlit darkness of her private quarters. Loving her this way, secretly, whenever she beckons me, is enough.
Outside of this room, I struggle with subspace infrared algorithms.
Here, I am good with my hands. Very good. And she likes my hands on her. Inside her.
I love being with her when she's like this: vulnerable, naked, exposed, taking pleasure in my touch. Responding to me. Me!
Her pleasure is my calling. She is my everything and I'd give my life for her, even if she can never be mine.
This moment is all I need from my beloved Captain.
Her sighs, her taste, her walk, her smile are all vivid in my mind when I work my detail station.
I'm often distracted.
Seven frequently frowns at me.
Seven.
I'm not offended that my Captain has whispered the name of her secret love.
I clutch her breast more firmly and resume a lustful parry and thrust between her legs. She is so wet.
I stop for a moment and drop my voice to a whisper when she strokes my cheek. "Yes…Captain."
When you whisper in the dark, you can be anyone.
I nuzzle my face into her hand.
I feel her wavering, raking her fingers through my dark hair. "Say her name."
She hesitates, taking a deep breath. I can feel her shaking.
I nudge her legs wider with my chin and when I nibble and suck her clit again, she arches her back, pulling my hair, moaning.
"Seven," she whispers like a prayer. "Seven," her voice breaks in an incantation of unrequited love.
Every time she breaths her name, I reward her. A deeper thrust, a harder suck. Soon she is bucking and crying out, clawing my back. She presses me hard against her and I feel her body tense, her hips coming high off the bed, her abdomen fluttering with each ragged breath. She comes in deep pulses around my slippery fingers and stiffens with one hard cry, "Yessss… Seven, oh god, my love. Yes."
Wave after wave moves through her perfect, compact body. I lick and nibble her a long time while another climax builds then sweeps over her. Then another, smaller one. I'm being buried by her passion and I can hardly breathe, but I want her to keep coming for me. I want her to be spent.
So I slow, then still, my mouth and fingers while she catches her breath.
She shudders when I start up again with a lazy tongue.
T. A. L.
S. E. V…
"I can't," she starts weakly, moving up onto her elbows. But I'm insatiable. Soon she's submerged in another wave when I press against the firm bundle far up inside her walls and she explodes one last time against my mouth.
I feel her collapse with a slow exhale. I pull away leisurely, my fingers still inside her. Very gently I slide out, for a moment cupping her tenderly between her legs.
I'm throbbing down below, but I stay silent – save for my heavy panting – as I pull up to kiss her.
I imagine that in the quiet of the room, she can believe for a moment I am the lover she yearns for.
It's my small gift to her.
She feels completely open right then. She comes back to me from her peak, holding me tight. She wordlessly runs her fingers over the ridges on my long Bajoran nose. I draw up a hand and caress her strong human chin. Her cheeks are wet.
My Captain is crying.
Later she'll try to apologize, and I'll shush her gently, caressing her in my embrace.
She hides her eyes from me. She thinks I don't approve. But I want to tell her that she doesn't need my approval to love her beautiful Borg. I think I love Seven, too. She's the woman my Captain loves her with all her heart. And I want to love everything she loves.
"You're so beautiful," I say, giving her absolution, kissing her auburn hair, and cooing sweet nothings in her ear.
When I feel her breath grow even, I give her a small squeeze.
I don't ever really feel like I'm a part of Voyager. I just live here. But when I'm in her arms, I'm home.
I'm home.
"I love you … Kathryn," I murmur into the night.
But she's already fast asleep.