Note: Sometimes I get so tired of writing ads that I have to let my brain do something else for a little while, and I give myself a one-hour creative break. Something like this is usually the result. It's pure fantasy, meant only to make J/Cers smile. Enjoy.
"Last Call"
"Pucker up."
Startled, he stared at her. "What?" he gasped.
"You heard me." She took a slow, deliberate step toward him. He retreated until his back touched the wall. "Pucker. Up." Her voice seemed to have dropped an octave in the last ten seconds, and he gulped.
"Are you talking to me?"
She rolled her eyes. "Do you see anyone else here?"
Chakotay craned his neck to see over her head and around the corner into the holodeck, which was filled to the bulkheads with Voyager personnel in various states of uniform and civilian clothes and, he noted with some alarm, undress. But they were a good twenty meters away from the nearest crew member; Kathryn had effectively backed him into a blind alcove where they could not easily be seen by anyone not looking directly at them. "Right," he breathed. " You're talking to me."
"Damn right. So. Pucker up, Commander." She gave him her best crooked, sultry smile, the one he hadn't seen in years and had despaired of ever seeing again. "That's an order."
He tried in vain to flag down Harry Kim, who sashayed by at the head of a conga line that bumped and swayed past the alcove's single entry point and seemed to contain a few too many Delaney sisters. But Harry just grinned and waved and moved on. "Okay," Chakotay said, his gaze moving back to Kathryn's. "So if I heard right, you want me to…pucker up."
"That's right. Pucker up." She took a step closer, her eyes fixed on his lips.
"Because you're going to…kiss me?" He was proud of the way the words came out in a mostly normal voice instead of the squeak he'd expected.
She clucked her tongue. "And here I always thought you were such a smart man." She stepped right up to him, her body almost touching his, and, after treating him to the kind of toe-to-hairline onceover he hadn't experienced since his Academy days, she tilted her head back and winked. "Intelligence isn't everything, though." She licked her lips. "Pucker up," she whispered.
The whiff of alcohol was so strong it nearly knocked him unconscious.
He sighed. "Kathryn," he began, his hand light on her shoulder. "Don't you think-"
"No," she snapped. "No, I don't think. I'm done thinking for a while. It's our last night on Voyager, I've had far too much of the battery acid Paris is trying to pass off as Scotch, and I've been fantasizing about those lips," she stared at his mouth again, "for the last seven years. I promised myself something when I sent my other self to her death: That before it was all over and I wasn't your Captain anymore, before I lost you forever to a woman half my age but twice my cup size, I'd give you one last order and I'd make it stick." She poked her fingertip into the middle of his chest. "So for the love of all that's good in the Universe, Commander, pucker the hell up."
"Half your age but twice your…." He blinked rapidly, wishing he'd had a bit less of Tom's battery acid Scotch himself. Something, he realized, was happening. Something significant. "Half your age but twice your…"
"Oh, Chakotay, just shut up," Kathryn said, and launched herself at him.
Reflexively, he caught her against his chest. To keep her from falling, he told himself, but in truth, falling had nothing to do with it. After wishing for this moment for so long and assuming it would never actually happen, he took full tactical advantage of the situation and raised her up off the floor to straddle his thigh just as her mouth latched onto his.
She does taste like coffee, he thought…and then all rational thought slammed to a halt when she jammed her tongue halfway down his throat.
The kiss went on for a delirious, delicious, forbidden moment.
Then another.
And another.
It wasn't enough.
When she tried to pull away, Chakotay wrapped his hands around her waist, yanked her close to his body and turned them both around until he had her pressed up against the wall. He fused himself to her at thigh and belly and chest, working over her mouth and neck with tiny nips and licks that made her squirm and writhe against him until he groaned with the painful pleasure of it.
The conga line stopped.
The happy chatter from the party silenced.
Someone whistled.
Kathryn pushed at his chest with her two small hands. He let her slide the length of his body to the floor, knowing exactly how much she would enjoy it. "Well," she said, patting her hair back into place.
"Well."
She cleared her throat and glared over his shoulder. Chakotay felt and heard the entire party behind him scatter in a blind, unreasoning group panic.
She blew out a slow breath between swollen lips and tried to move out from between him and the wall. "I suppose I need to-"
He caught her by the elbow and pulled her back in place, his head bowed. "Give me a minute," he rasped.
"Oh!" She suddenly seemed not to know what to do with her hands. They fluttered in the small space between their bodies for a moment, then she settled them on her waist and looked up at him with that crooked smile again.
"Not helping," he grinned, and she blanched.
"I didn't mean to-"
"Of course you didn't," he said. "You never did. Doesn't change facts."
She blinked rapidly. "You mean all these years, you… Damn." She sucked in her cheeks and gave her head a little shake, then looked up at him from beneath lowered lids. "Damn."
"Still not helping," he chuckled, and took a step away from her. "I should probably tell you something."
She raised an expectant eyebrow at him.
"Seven and I…we're not…" He sighed. "I should say we broke up, but there was hardly anything to 'break up' in the first place. So we talked earlier and decided we are better off as colleagues and friends. Especially now that we're back." He licked his lips. "We're not actually seeing each other anymore."
She nodded once. "I should probably tell you something, too."
He cocked his head to one side. "Oh?"
She regarded him with a sultry grin that obliterated the tiny scrap of self-control he'd managed. "I haven't actually been drinking."
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