"You're late," the voice purrs behind her head, displeased, dark and heavy.
"I'm sorry," she apologises meekly. "The bridge-"
Strong fingers cover her lips, stopping her speech. Kathryn gasps, trying not to bite the inside of her cheek. Knuckles run over the back of her neck and she can feel the leather. A hand dances over her stomach, then pulls her in closer. The hard leather of B'Elanna's armour creaks from the pressure and it's rough even through her uniform.
The zipper down the front of her jacket gives way with a hiss and Kathryn's top layer of her uniform slips open. Tearing it off her shoulders, B'elanna binds her hands in it neatly and shoves her back against the wall. Klingon incense fills the air, making it heavy and spiced like wine. She takes a breath, filling her lungs as her head starts to spin. Her head hits the wall gently but it too is leather, padded slightly to protect her skin.
B'Elanna's dagger sings through the fabric of her turtleneck and the tank beneath, catching both and parting them as if they were water. She leaves on the bra, those cost more replicator rations to make, and Kathryn only has a few. Strong hands in leather half-gloves glide over her exposed skin, teasing the muscles beneath. One hand grabs and pinches her breast, and the other runs the flat of the blade along Kathryn's neck.
"We agreed to be on time," B'Elanna admonishes her, circling her with the blade still against Kathryn's jaw.
Kathryn smirks dangerously. She shouldn't but she can't restrain herself. "I did try."
B'Elanna's teeth dance fire down her neck. It's a nibble more than a bite but Kathryn still gasps and squirms. It's delicious to be so ignored, so disregarded. The back of B'Elanna's leather clad hand brushes her cheek. She tears down the jacket entwining Kathryn's hands, still holding Kathryn's wrists. B'Elanna tugs her away from the wall and guides her towards the centre of the room. It's hard to walk backwards in heels, and when Kathryn stumbles the hand on her neck tightens.
"Careful."
Kathryn's legs hit the chair and she falls back hard. It's high: the leather in it warms to her skin and old metal sends a shiver down her spine. B'Elanna lashes her arms down to the back of the chair in a submissive posture. She's too quick for her to fight, even if she wanted too. Wide leather straps are soft and have yet to leave a mark on her arms, which Kathryn appreciates. It might be difficult to explain. Her trousers are B'Elanna's next victim and she tugs them down and frees Kathryn's legs. The heat of B'Elanna's mouth runs up her calf and teases her inner thigh before kissing up her stomach. She growls when she reaches Kathryn's bra and reaches around to snap it off. Taking her left nipple into her mouth, B'Elanna sucks it until Kathryn strains against the chair, gasping.
B'Elanna flicks the other with lazy fingers and works it with expert tongue and teeth. Sweat breaks in her hair and Kathryn no longer feels the air as cool. It's hot, like a sauna and she can't believe B'Elanna can wear the tight leather corset she does. The half-Klingon's breasts are shoved together and mounded beautifully, like ripe fruit. They'll be her reward, provided she's good.
She does try to be good.
B'Elanna crawls into her lap, crouching over Kathryn's bare legs with her stocking-and-gartered ones. The extent of Klingon lingerie has been understated in the Alpha Quadrant far too long. Kathryn has behaved so far, so she's earned the kiss that commands mouth so utterly than her mind stops. Stops, dead, as little else can make it do. It's all she'll get for now. She has to earn the rest. B'Elanna's attention returns to her breasts, coaxing gasps and whimpers with the heat of her lips and the firm pressure of her fingers. B'Elanna's hands slide downward, cresting down her stomach, massaging her ribs and teasing the skin of her lower back. Her breathing quickens, loosing rhythm as B'Elanna's fingers find her panties.
Thumbs duck beneath the elastic, easing them down lower and lower until they're off Kathryn's ankles and forgotten. B'Elanna slips off her lap, circles her in the chair like a predator creature. She passes Kathryn's right hand, allowing her to touch her face before she licks her forearm and vanishes.
Firm hands part Kathryn's legs, exposing her wet, over-sensitised skin. Her thighs burn when B'Elanna licks then, and she shifts her hips anxiously, desperate for that tongue to be on her clit.
Cuffing her lightly, B'Elanna growls a reproach. "Patience," she reminds her. She digs one hand into her hair and pulls taunt. "You wait."
"Please," Kathryn gasps. "Please," she repeats as B'Elanna's fingers dance across her clit and slip inside. The sudden pressure within makes her moan and finally earns B'Elanna's pity. The hand in her hair releases and strokes her damp breast. The two insistent fingers within her move slowly, curling deep up inside her. Her tiny, shuddering breaths are exactly what B'Elanna wants. She nibbles up Kathryn's thigh, kissing the flat of her stomach before she drops. Her tongue runs down her clit, then back up more roughly. Kathryn's hips thrust upward, fighting for more of B'Elanna's mouth but the hand on her stomach is firm.
She doesn't have to form words. Her whimpering and panting are what B'Elanna wants. Kathryn looses track of B'Elanna's motion, coming undone as all of it fades into consuming white heat. No matter what fight she might put up, or how she squirms or cries, B'Elanna is unrelenting, unforgiving and there's only one way free. She can't fight it, or stop it and nothing, absolutely nothing, the captain of Voyager can do will prevent her orgasm.
That's what makes it so necessary and so divine to give in. B'Elanna coaxes the first orgasm out of her and Kathryn cries out into the darkness of the holodeck. Blood pumps through her head and screams out into her toes. She shakes, trembling in the chair. B'Elanna lifts her head, leaving Kathryn's buzzing clit alone but her hand remains within. Wet lips kiss her stomach, then lazily lick her breast.
Kathryn tugs her head down, fighting the straps on her arms, desperate for the connection and intimacy of a kiss.
"Again," B'Elanna demands without forgiveness. Her fingers move faster, deeper within Kathryn's already trembling walls. "You can do it again."
"I can't-"
B'Elanna's free hand rakes nails down her stomach. The nails are short enough to do little damage but she winces all the same. B'Elanna's maddening fingers continue to circle, pressing up further, in further, moving faster until Kathryn can feel her second climax pressing behind her eyes. She bites her lip, trying not to cry out pre-emptively. Her eyes begin to tear up, her body jerks and finally, with conquering sweetness, B'Elanna kisses her again. The intimacy of it sings through Kathryn along with the sudden release of orgasm. She gasps, then crushes her lips into B'Elanna's to prevent a sob. B'Elanna's demanding fingers cease and the half-Klingon cradles her against her leather-covered chest.
"It's all right," B'Elanna whispers, allowing Kathryn the weakness of surrender. "It's all right." Another kiss, this time gentle and full of promise, does nothing to stop Kathryn's tears.
B'Elanna releases the unseen clasps that hold Kathryn's arms in place and lets them drop.
Wrapping her arms around B'Elanna's firm shoulders, she clings to her like a lost child. It's here, in the holodeck, where she can surrender for an hour or two.
When her tears slow, B'Elanna lifts her hands and kisses them gently. "Here," she offers, resting Kathryn's hands on the buckles that hold B'Elanna's tight corset in place. "I'm for you."
Turnabout is always so much sweeter. They retreat to the bed together, without letting go. It's still Klingon, with red and black sheets tangled up in furs. B'Elanna needs no pretense and Kathryn can simply worship her body. Kathryn's the one with the hang up the size of a starship, so she's the one who is punished.
B'Elanna's breasts slip free of the corset, round and perfect as Kathryn nuzzles and licks her way over them. She can slide off the stockings, if she wants, but this time she leaves them on. Rubbing her hands along B'Elanna's perfect legs, she kisses down her stomach while B'Elanna tangles her hands in her hair.
They tangle together: Kathryn's thigh between B'Elanna's legs, B'elanna's mouth returning more gently to Kathryn's sore breast and they kiss. They kiss until Kathryn's lips are numb and the skin around them sore. She works B'Elanna into the kind of orgasm that has her panting, flushed and desperate against her. B'Elanna doesn't cry like she does instead she laughs, giggling and resting her head on Kathryn's chest as they use up every last minute of their holodeck time.
"How do you know?" Kathryn asks, pulling on the spare uniform top B'Elanna was smart enough to bring down.
"When to punish you?" B'Elanna asks in response, tugging her thick Klingon cloak over her costume. Calisthenics is their cover story, and if the crew knows, no one says anything. "It's in your eyes," B'Elanna shrugs. "Sometimes you just need it."
Apparently it's as easy as if it were written in glowing letters across Kathryn's face. Kathryn runs her fingers through her hair, coaxing it back into some semblance of order. "And you?"
B'Elanna laughs again and hands Kathryn one of her shoes. "I get what I need."
"Which is?" Kathryn continues, genuinely curious.
"You," B'Elanna informs her playfully. She kisses her again and then calls for the arch. "You're all I've ever need."
Simple and direct. That might be why Kathryn loves her. That and the curve of her spine and the feel of her teeth against her neck. Maybe also her hands...
She catches B'Elanna before they leave and kisses her firmly, pushing her back towards the arch. B'Elanna kisses back with equal fervour.
"I'll see you tonight then?"
"I have reports-"
B'Elanna shakes her head and nibbles Kathryn's lower lip with a growl. "I'll see you tonight."
"Okay."