Vulnerability

Chapter Two: Kathryn Janeway

Summary: Janeway, Seven, and being able to feel vulnerable in front of each other.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Pairings: J7

Author's Notes: Wow was this hard to write. I guess I don't feel like writing explicit scenes very often. However, I was motivated by writing in a middle finger to people who make fun of Janeway's voice.

"See, my Kathryn?" Seven kisses me just below my ear. "I was correct that you are sufficiently flexible for this."

I struggle experimentally against the restraints, and I feel the cushion pushing against the back of my neck and the cuffs pulling at my ankles. My toes curl around nothing and the coolness of the air raises goose bumps on the backs of my legs. "Good thing I stretched," I mutter.

Seven presses her soft, full lips to my neck. "How does it feel?"

The idea of bondage is to restrict movement, and it's certainly doing its job; I can't put my legs down. I can't place why, but I'm not wild about how it feels to have my legs forcefully spread open like this. They certainly end up wrapped around Seven's waist in a similar position often enough. I shouldn't feel uncomfortable with this, right? The words stick in my throat.

Seven notices I'm having trouble responding and tries again. "Status, my Kathryn?"

That's much easier to answer. "Yellow alert," I manage.

"I am aware this is a new experience for you. Try to relax."

Right. Sure.

Seven leans over and kisses me. Okay, that helps. Her hands—even the metal integrated into her Borg hand—are warm, gliding up and down my sides. It took her a while to learn how to be this gentle—Borg enhanced strength is no joke—but she's a good learner. Eventually she leaves off kissing my lips to kiss my neck. My head tilts back automatically. As long as I focus on her kisses, I don't notice the cold air on my restrained legs. Or at least I didn't until that thought crossed my mind.

I must have made a noise of protest at that thought, because she stops kissing me and looks down at my face. I resist the urge to turn away, but she kisses my forehead. "Keep breaths, my Kathryn. I know you're tense."

Somehow I manage not to say anything, since I know if I open my mouth, I'll start asking to skip straight to aftercare now. Fortunately I only have to hold my tongue for a minute or so before I feel Seven's lips on my neck again. Not for the first time tonight, I'm glad Seven didn't feel like shackling my wrists; I wrap my hands around hanks of her hair. It's so soft and fine, almost like a baby's. It may not be the same texture it would have been had she been allowed to go through puberty normally. Seven has revealed to me that she has a few small bald spots where even our EMH couldn't stimulate growth of new hair, but her hairstyle conceals that. At first, she didn't take her hair down when we were making love or even when I was just teaching her how to kiss, and I thought she was keeping her hair up for reasons of practicality and that if I asked her to take it down, she would inform me that it would be more efficient to keep her hair up so it wouldn't get in her face—though she'd more likely say something more like "interfere with her vision"—while we were together. But one night I finally succumbed to how badly I wanted to see her lying on her back with her hair spread out behind her head like solar flares and started pulling out her hairpins, and she stopped me, telling me she didn't think I would want to see her with her hair down. That was when she revealed to me that she had bald spots and was afraid that I would find them "unappealing". I was puzzled; not only was this Seven of goddamn Nine being concerned that something as minor as a few bald spots would make her unattractive to me, I wouldn't love her any less if she were bald as an egg. But then, she has never seemed to understand how beautiful she is or how little that ultimately matters (although I have to say, she is a damn fine-looking woman).

My decision to stop using words lest I blurt out something I'll regret later flies fight out the airlock as Seven's lips meet the swell of my breast. At least the only thing I say is her name. I feel a rush of relief when she doesn't ask me for my "status" and goes ahead and moves her mouth to my nipple. I cry out and pull her hair, and she strokes my face briefly before moving one hand to my other breast. I can get through this if I keep focusing on how good that feels. She rests her weight on my hips and I immediately relax a little. Having my legs forced open to make room for Seven? I'm more than okay with that.

Seven plays with my breasts (god I love her hands) for a few moments while I squirm, my body arching into her, searching for contact. I'm about ready to plead for more when she shifts to move one hand to cup the join of my legs. "Are you ready for me to penetrate you, Kathryn?"

As soon as she moved, I could feel the cold air on my legs again and I'm sure the damn goose bumps came back. I don't trust my voice, so I nod, and two of her fingers slide into me to the hilt. Despite my discomfort, I moan, and she strokes me slowly. She's become a champion at touching me just right, and this is usually when I really get into riding her fingers, but every time I move, I feel the air on the backs of my legs and I hate it, and I'm torn between lying still to keep myself from noticing how stupid the harness makes me feel and doing what I'd really like to be doing, which is fucking myself senseless on Seven's perfect fingers.

Of course, she notices. "Would you prefer we move to the strap-on now?"

And have Seven between my hips? Oh hell yes. "Please," I beg, because I'm willing to beg for that. She kisses my forehead and calls up the strap-on that she designed specially for me, so when she slides it into me and I bite back a groan as I feel it filling me up, it feels like it belongs there inside me. Seven gives me a long kiss as she begins to rock her hips slowly. I can feel her full, soft breasts against mine. There aren't words for how good it feels. This is when I remember she's part machine; no mere human could keep a rhythm so deliciously steady and just how I like it. I press my face to her shoulder to stifle the noises I can't help making.

I feel her wrap one hand around a hank of my hair and pull, moving my head back so I can't muffle my cries against her shoulder. "Let me hear you, Kathryn," she soothes.

Oh, damn, is she really pulling this? Maybe it was a few too many men who gave me funny looks when they heard me moan, maybe it's the fact that I have never been fond of the sound of my voice, but I hate hearing myself make noise in bed. Seven wants me to get used to it because she doesn't like seeing me self-conscious. Or maybe she'd just rather I shamelessly call out her name all the time.

And her timing was spot on. She pulls on my hair right as my thighs start to quake, which she knows by now means she's about to push me over the edge. She always makes me see stars when she uses the strap-on, and tonight is no different; I cry out her name, the sound filling the room as my orgasm hits me like a ton of bricks. It's almost too intense and I have to ask her to stop. She covers my face with kisses and tells me my voice is "beautiful". I can still hear my so-called "beautiful voice" echoing in my ears. Maybe Seven likes hearing it, but I feel like crying. I tell myself to keep it together a little longer, because it's going to be my turn now. And that's going to be fun.

I can't exactly move much after an orgasm that intense, so she lies down beside me with an arm across my stomach. Usually I'd manage to turn onto my side so we could snuggle for a little while before switching roles, but not this time.

"Seven, get me out of this damn thing."

She figures by the sound of my voice that I'm getting into Domme mode, which is partly true because once I get there I won't think about the sound of my voice helplessly crying out for Seven and feel like crying anymore, but mostly I want to finally put my fucking legs down. She moves to undo the straps, but I lose my patience and tell the computer to dispel the thing. As soon as I can move, I'm still about as coordinated as a shuttlepod that has lost its thrusters, but I curl up. I'll tell her later that we're never using that harness again. For now, Seven pulls me close and kisses my hair. "Are you ready to switch roles, my Kathryn?"

I squirm a little to see how much fine control I have over my legs now—usually, after sex with Seven, I can't walk right for a few minutes, seeing as she has applied her usual Collective-born perfectionism to the practice of getting me off—and when I realize I can actually move most of my body, I get up and pin Seven to the mattress by her shoulders. She can't hide her smile, and doesn't bother to. Earlier in our relationship, I was concerned that Seven's dominant personality would result in her wanting to Domme all the time and we'd never get to switch, but she loves subbing for me. Go figure.

I kiss her hungrily for a few moments, feeling her relax underneath me. I rake my teeth along her earlobe and whisper near her ear; she wants to hear my voice? She'll get to. "What do you want me to do to you, my sweet Seven?"

She shivers and arches up into me. "Will you penetrate me anally with one of your strap-on accessories?" she pants.

"Oh, absolutely, my darling. Just let me play with these beauties first." I playfully smack one of her breasts, and she yelps, but she loves it. She likes being slapped lightly, more for the sound than the pain, although not on her face (and I don't want to do that either). "Then I'll stretch you out with my fingers. Then you get the toy."

"Yes, Kathryn," she moans.

I slap both of her breasts at the same time and she cries out again. I have to be careful with her; she's so sensitive that I can't get her too worked up too quickly or it will be too much for her. Luckily, as she has pointed out, the number of nerves in breast tissue remains fairly constant across individuals, and since she has such full, luscious breasts, I can usually play with them all I want as long as I keep the pain to a minimum. I cradle her breasts in my hands—as much as I can, with my hands being so small—and she moans as I squeeze and massage gently. Her moan turns to a whimper as I work her nipples with the pads of my thumbs. She's very vocal during sex, but with that musical voice of hers, I love hearing it. She continues to whimper and almost squeal as I lower my head to her chest and take one of her nipples into my mouth. I love the sensation of her nipple hardening against my tongue. I suckle gently and she squirms helplessly underneath me. "Kathryn!"

I sit up, and she makes little noises of protest at the sudden lack of contact. "What was that, my darling?"

She takes several breaths, trying to form words; apparently I have "overwhelmed her speech center", as she might say. "Please penetrate me," she begs.

"Already, my dear?" I stroke her hair and her face. "You can't let me have a little more time?"

She closes her eyes. "I can let you have more time."

"Good girl," I soothe and immediately get to sucking on her other nipple, loving the noises she's making. She's trying to push herself too far, though; she's writhing so hard under me that she nearly throws me off of her. She's about dying to have me inside her. So I get up and kiss her, then take her by her legs and pull her to the edge of the mattress.

"Yes," she whimpers, pulling her legs to her chest. I quickly grab two of the pillows and tuck them under her hips.

"Are you ready for my fingers, my darling?"

"Please," she begs.

I ask the computer for a pair of latex gloves and a bottle of lubricant, and within seconds I have Seven groaning with pleasure as I gently massage her tight little opening with the pads of my thumbs. She's trying—and mostly failing, I think—to take deep breaths, attempting to relax. She's doing well enough at the relaxation; I press carefully with one thumb and her body yields, allowing my thumb to slip into her. She whimpers my name again as I massage her, working my thumb in a circular motion. "Can you take more?"

"I want your entire hand," she pants.

I'm pretty sure that isn't ever going to happen, no matter her fantasies. Not to mention I don't think that particular fantasy would be that appealing in reality; she's incredibly sensitive, so much so she doesn't like having her clit touched and she can rarely enjoy vaginal penetration. So she prefers anal, and even so, I've never gotten more than three fingers into her. Not because it hurts, but because she feels so acutely that she doesn't want to keep going. She comes at the drop of a hat, I swear.

"Maybe later, my dear. This time, I don't want you coming without permission. Understand?"

"Yes, Kathryn."

Orgasm control was her idea. I think she'd prefer to be able to enjoy our play sessions longer, and, well, I can't blame her. It's hard for her, but god love her, she tries.

She does manage to hold herself together—barely—when I carefully work two tightly crossed fingers into her. She whimpers my name helplessly and squirms. She's already on the verge of orgasm and we haven't even moved on to the toy. "Easy now, my darling," I murmur, caressing her slowly. "You do want my strap-on, don't you?"

"Yes," she begs.

"Then you have to let me stretch you out."

She whines, words lost to her, and I use my free hand to lightly slap her inner thigh, just hard enough to hurt. She has an amazing pain tolerance, but isn't much of a masochist; we mostly use pain play to keep her from coming too soon. It allows me to still act Domme-ly with her and for her to still practice orgasm control.

Her loud moans—unlike me, she has no misgivings about her voice—are occasionally interrupted by yelps as I uncross my fingers and try to open her up enough to take the strap-on but occasionally give her quick, sharp smacks on her thighs. I just barely manage to get three fingers inside her and I know she's ready for the toy. "Tell me what you want, my darling," I say, my voice low.

"I want you to penetrate me anally," she gasps.

"I'm already doing that," I remind her with a quick twist of my hand. She gives a cry that is almost a scream and her hips rock upward off the pillows. Oh, there is no way I'm getting the strap-on into her without her coming. I'll have to let her. She'll still be able to thoroughly enjoy the experience, I'm sure. "Be more specific."

"I want you to use one of your strap-on accessories to penetrate me," she manages in such a breathless voice that I can barely understand her.

"Soon, my darling," I tell her, and call up the toy from the computer. I put it on myself instead of ordering her to help me, since I'm fairly sure Seven can't move. "Are you ready?" I press the round head of the toy against her.

"Yes. Please," she moans, her voice almost unrecognizable.

I press forward slowly with my hips, guiding the toy with my hand. "You can come while I'm doing this. I know you'll need to." I'm always scared of hurting her at this point, no matter how much we do it. I meet with enough resistance that I almost give up and pull away when the toy slides past the tight band of muscle just inside her. She whimpers helplessly and her body quivers as I ease forward until my hips are flush with the backs of her thighs. It was just a small orgasm, to take the edge off, but she needed it. I give her a few seconds to recover, holding position with my toy all the way inside her, running my hands over her legs. Eventually she articulates my name and I ask her, "Do you want more?" She can't speak, only nod, so I begin rocking my hips slowly. I know how she likes it; I don't move only back and forth, but move my hips in a slightly elliptical motion so she feels the toy move deep into her and stretch her out. Language remains lost to her as she cries out for me in helpless noises and fragments of words.

I gaze down at her, half in awe of how beautiful she is when incoherent with pleasure, half jealous. I could never stand to be that helpless in front of her. I let her fuck my brains out, but I never relax enough to completely let go the way she does. Tonight was the closest I have ever come to that, and…no, not now, wait until we do aftercare.

I recognize when her noises turn almost pained that she can't hold on much longer and I tell her, "You can come, my dear." She does almost before the words are out of my mouth, long shudders shaking her body until she lies still. I withdraw the toy and remove it from the program before leaning over and kissing Seven. "You did very well, Seven," I tell her.

"Thank you," she says when she finds words again.

I nuzzle close to her. "Aftercare now?"

She pulls me close, carefully, not wanting to hurt me with her enhanced Borg strength. "Yes."

The tears I swallowed earlier erupt. "I'm never letting you put me in that harness again."

"Kathryn, are you crying?" She edges back from me, surprised. "Why did you neglect to communicate your feelings of discomfort during the scene?"

"Guess I was trying to push my limits," I say grimly. "Well, that and I wasn't about to cry while subbing for you."

"Oh, my Kathryn…" She kisses my face. "You truly would be uncomfortable crying in front of me?"

"Not in general. But when I'm subbing for you."

Seven caresses my hair. "Why is that?"

"Oh, I don't know," I say, trying not to sob.

"Do you not want to appear vulnerable in front of me?"

I close my eyes. "Yes."

Seven sighs. "Thank you for your honesty. I wish you were more comfortable with me."

"There might be things I'm comfortable with around you. More now than when we first got together. But I don't think I'll ever be comfortable being noisy in bed or being restrained in embarrassing positions. I'm not into humiliation. I'm just not. And I won't ever be." The words rush out of me and I feel a strange sense of relief.

"I understand," says Seven in a low voice. She sifts her fingers through my sweaty hair. "I will not suggest using the harness again."

I swallow. "Thank you."

"I wish that you were not humiliated by the sound of your own voice." She sounds almost mournful.

I nuzzle close to her. "I've never liked my voice. It's even been mocked."

"It was cruel of whoever mocked you to do so. I am very fond of your voice. It is calming to me."

I snicker. "Calming?"

"And occasionally exciting. Such as tonight, when I wanted to hear you cry out before it was my turn to be submissive."

"Seriously?" I blurt out. "Hearing me make an ass of myself makes you hot?"

"Hearing you experience pleasure excites me," she corrects me gently, then kisses my hair.

"I'm so glad," I groan sarcastically, pressing my forehead against the base of her neck.

"My Kathryn…" she cups my chin with one hand and lifts my face up so she can look me in the eyes. "Are you truly so displeased with your own voice that you refer to crying out during sexual relations as 'making an ass of yourself'?"

I close my eyes. I can't meet her gaze. "When it's that loud? Yes."

She makes an unhappy noise and gives me a little squeeze. "The timbre of your voice is unusual, but I am very fond of it, and I am nonplussed by the motivation of anyone who would mock you for it."

I squirm so I can get my head tucked under her chin. "Thank you."

"Do you believe you will ever come to peace with the sound of your voice?"

I honestly don't know. Maybe, especially if she keeps telling me she likes it. But not if she keeps me from stifling my voice when I'm subbing for her.

"Possibly," I hazard. "But for now, I'm putting a hard limit on you doing that thing you did tonight where you pulled on my hair so I couldn't…you know."

"Stifle the sounds you were making," Seven finishes.

I flush darkly. I can't even articulate what I mean; she has to do it for me. She's right that I'm being a little ridiculous about my voice, but…

"I am sorry you feel so insecure regarding your voice. I hope one day you feel less so." She kisses my forehead.

"Why? So you can listen to me make noise?" I'm being sullen, but I don't care. I guess I get sullen when I'm embarrassed.

"Because I care for you, and I believe you have no reason to feel insecure."

I can never be sullen in the face of that kind of sincerity from her for very long. "Thank you." I sigh. "I should feel lucky I finally have someone I don't have to be quiet for."

Seven slides a hand up and down my back. It's wonderfully comforting. "My Kathryn, I don't wish to give you orders when you are not my submissive. But I wish that I could speak a few words and have the result be you no longer feeling ashamed of your voice or crying in front of me during one of our scenes."

I start to cry again, this time with gratefulness. I briefly wonder if I deserve someone so generous. "Maybe one day," I whisper into the soft skin of her upper chest.

She holds me tightly. "I hope so."

One day. One day soon.

A/N: I had no idea how to end this.