My stay on Quarra hadn't been long, nor had I remembered my past, but I know that deep down I had missed Chakotay like a mad woman. I'm no fool and I know that I tried to make Jaffen fill the gaping hole in my heart. At the time I hadn't known why it was there, but once 'Amal Kotay' showed up in that bar and then again in my quarters, I knew that I had left behind something capital somewhere but couldn't remember. Moving in with Jaffen after just a few days was ridiculous, but I needed something, someone, to hold onto. To ground me, as my brain ran in overdrive trying to work out what was happening; why a stranger evoked such strong emotions and desires within me.
Chakotay and I aren't on the best of terms since my return and I suspect my hasty dedication to a relationship that wasn't real has something to do with it. He never once voiced any thoughts on it, but I know they're there. My heart leaped with joy when he suggested this dinner - his attempt to rebuild whatever we broke in the last few weeks. I want to cherish the time I have with him. Now even more than before, because now I know the pain of being without him.
Little do I suspect that I am aching for much more than just an emotional connection when I lean my elbows on the low wall surrounding the small kitchenette to watch Chakotay prepare our meal…
"Kathryn?", I ask and her eyes snap out of the trance they have seemed to be in before looking at me. She's never watched me cook before and I can't help wondering why today is different. Usually she pores over a pile of PADDs while I prepare dinner. Watching me scrub clean an eight-inch-long cucumber from our hydroponics bay has never interested her before. "Are you alright?"
Thoughts about Quarra, about me missing him emotionally, vanish the second my eyes land on his strong hands. His fingers trace along the ridges of the cucumber, delicately stroking the veined surface. A rhythmic, well trained motion that makes me wonder if he strokes himself just like that when he's aroused. Up and down, soft and deliciously, before needy and frantic.
The crystal clear droplets drip along its length, before he turns the tap off and wraps it in soft fabric, repeating the same hypnotic movement. Up and down. I can't help but bite my bottom lip as I watch him, wondering what he thinks about when he does this to himself in the long hours in his quarters. Does he think about me while I am thinking about him?
She nods, still seeming somewhat lost in thought. I know better than to question her further, so I concentrate on my task of preparing the salad. With skill, I chop the cucumber into fulsome ringlets, before tossing them into the bowl with the already prepared greenery.
I never thought I'd be doing real cooking in my tiny star ship quarters on the other side of the galaxy, but here I am… and if I'm being honest, I have never enjoyed cooking so much. The soft moans Kathryn makes when she takes the first bites of a home cooked meal are worth struggling within this tiny space and lack of ingredients. As I cut open a Talaxian tomato and its juice splashes all over my hand, her eyes go wide and for a brief moment I wonder if she too remembers a certain planet a long time ago, before we somehow broke things between us…
His tongue skillfully licks along his hand before he dips his finger into his mouth, sucking off the juices. His eyes flicker briefly shut, indicating he enjoys the salty taste before he moves on to his second finger. The tip of his tongue dances around the fingertip, wrapping itself around the flesh to remove the small seeds and I have to gasp a little as I watch the velvety strokes he performs. It's not the first time I wonder what else this mouth can do, but it's the first time I'm not focused on his kissable lips. What if I were to give myself to him? Would he lick me like this too? And if so, what would it feel like? Heat begins to pool within me and I have to press my thighs tightly shut as I feel myself ache to find out.
Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, a tiny voice screams at me for thinking like this, but it's been years and… I can't stop myself. Jaffen and I… we never… well, let's just say I somehow couldn't bring myself to do it. It's not that I didn't want to, because I did, it's just… *something* had stopped me. I know, crazy, especially after my jump into the living situation but I insisted that he slept on the sofa until I felt ready for the next step. And I never felt settled until Amal Kotay showed up.
Another lick of Chakotay's tongue makes my inner channel clench. After too many years of being alone, all the while yearning for this man, have finally made me go mad with want.
Damn tomatoes. I always hate them the most as they turn into a messy business every time. Here I am, hoping to impress Kathryn with my cooking abilities but all I do is splash all over myself like a kid who's never learned how to wield the knife. Quickly I lick the worst off my fingers, returning to the task at hand. Luckily I had prepared the dressing beforehand or she'd have watched me too as I had made a mess with the lemon pressing, squeezing the firm mounds until they squirted all over my front. The intense way she watches me is starting to make me feel very self-conscious, and I'm starting to desperately wish she'd occupy herself with something else.
"Done with reports for tonight?" I inquire nonchalantly, hoping to somehow remind her of something she might have forgotten.
"Mhm," she simply hums as she continues to watch my every move. Surely watching what I'm doing can't be this fascinating? Kathryn hates cooking - the real thing even more than replicated. I take a deep breath, resisting the urge to tug on my ear. There must be some way to dissuade her from hanging on the kitchen counter like this!?
Oh.
Bingo.
"Kathryn, would you like to help me?"
I place a big junk of salmon, or at least a fish that looks like salmon, on the surface and give it a small slap with my hand, grinning. I think I've done it as she lets out a small, surprised gasp as my hand impacts with the large filet. She looks up at me with rosy cheeks, her lids blinking rapidly as if she's not quite sure what just happened. I look at her expectantly, dead certain of her brain running overtime now in finding a decent excuse.
"Yes!" She breathes heavily and for a moment I think I'm about to drop my knife.
Did she just say 'yes' to cooking with me?
"Alright. Why don't you come over here then and I'll show you how to cut the fish?"
She hesitates for a moment before she slowly saunters around the counter. I move aside to let her take my place by the cutting board and she picks up the knife. The second she sets it into position to make the first cut I realize she's about to do it wrong. I need the fish in thin filets, not in the chunk she's about to cut.
Feeling unreasonably bold, I move in behind Kathryn and wrap my arms around her, placing one of my hands atop of hers around the knife handle and the other onto the filet. I can feel her tense up immediately but it's too late to step back without making myself look like an idiot, so I push the creeping uncertainty aside. I let my hand glide over the meat before showing her just how she has to slice it.
His heat surrounds me and I suddenly find it hard to breathe. My head swims from his musky cologne, but when he moves closer to me and I watch his fingers glide over the soft, flesh coloured chunk in front of me, my vision turns blurry. I know I should concentrate on his words, but my attention is glued to the way his thick index and middle finger are caressing the flesh. I feel my legs going weak and my center beginning to beg for his hand.
What would it feel like if he moved his hand only a few inches back to touch me like this? Gentle but with purpose, stroking me till my head falls back against his shoulders in pure bliss and my moans echo through the stillness of the room?
His hot breath as he speaks tickles my neck, his groin pressing into my backside as I watch the muscles in his tanned arms flex with every move. I can feel my panties beginning to wet and I have to try incredibly hard to not give into the urge to beg him to touch me. In a desperate attempt to quench my thirst for the ecstasy he could surely provide, I cross my legs. You're his captain, Kathryn, not his lover. Wanting him in this manner is inappropriate, so snap out of it!
I press my legs tight together, praying to all deities out there to stop me wanting his hand, his mou-
"Kathryn? You know if you need a bathroom break you just need to say so."
I move back from her, giving her room to breathe. I could feel her getting tenser with every passing second. I thought perhaps she was uncomfortable with my closeness, but when she crossed her legs I knew something was wrong.
"What?", she gasps before she turns her head to look at me with half-lidded eyes.
I take another step backwards. "I said, if you need to use the bathroom you can just say so."
She stills, her lids fluttering rapidly for a few seconds as if she can't comprehend what I'm saying. I point at her twisted posture and a small "Oh" escapes her lips. She flushes before she steps away from the kitchen counter. She collects herself before she gives me a sweet smile. "I don't, but I think… think… maybe I'll just wait at the table for you to finish this."
I watch as she moves away. Silently, I curse myself, shaking my head ever so slightly at my own stupidity. I knew cooking wasn't her thing and I've pushed the boundary too much by standing behind her to help. What was I thinking? Angry, I chew my lip before I give the filet in front of me another small whack. Stupid piece of fish.
Stupid idea.
Stupid Chakotay.
My head snaps back at him as I hear his hand handing out another slap. His demeanor has darkened and it makes me think back to the days when he was still an angry Maquis warrior. I've never been attracted to 'bad boys' but something about Maquis Chakotay had my knees buckling. I'm too ashamed to even remember all the scenes my mind had conjured up over the years, with him dressed in his Maquis leather. Him being dominant with me. Pushing me violently up against the turbolift walls, unashamedly ravishing me in the ready room or stripping me bare, slapping me across the backside before demanding I beg him to take me.
I know the stories told about his life prior to Voyager, about his adventures in seedy bars with willing women. From what I've overheard B'Elanna whisper to love-struck Ensigns, I know he's had quite the appetite in the past; know that he's a lover women always wanted more and more of – not just because of his apparent astounding size but also because of his skill.
If only… if only he stopped being so… nice and… gentle and…and kind with me for once. If only he'd disregarded my parameters once and pushed my ridiculous boundaries. I know I would crumble the moment he'd take charge. If only… only once.
I take a deep breath. No. This isn't what I should be thinking. This isn't captainly one bit. I really should snap out of it for crying out loud. God, I know I'm being pathetic. Being hung up about a man, being this desperate for his touch, is not healthy. Perhaps I just need some distance between us. Time to take care of… myself, while he finishes cooking dinner so I can focus on something else than wanting him - something like rebuilding our friendship. On unsteady legs I wobble towards the door, escape being the only way I know how to deal with this.
"Actually…," she begins to stutter and I look up to see her pointing at the door. "I left some reports I want to go over in my quarters. How long until dinner is ready?"
My gaze swipes over the uncooked ingredients before me. "Uhm… maybe… 20 minutes."
She nods before she smiles. "Alright, if you don't mind I'll see you in 15, Commander."
I swallow painfully. 'Commander.'
Great.
I really fucked it up tonight.
I don't get a chance to answer her as the door swishes shut behind her and I'm all alone. Before I know what I'm doing, my fist angrily collides with the work top before a strain of Klingon curse words tumbles over my lips. I push myself off the counter, my free hand rapidly running through my hair and over my face. Years I've been patient with her. Years I've respected her imposed parameters. My desperate attempt to rebuild our bond after her stay on goddamn Quarra only backfiring on me. Why did I have to push my limits? Why can't I just be happy with what she offers?
Violently I fling the knife onto the counter. With rapid speed it slides over the surface, smashing to the floor on the other side.
Perhaps it's time I stopped being stupid; stopped deluding myself.
Perhaps it's time I finally accept she'll never want more than friendship; if that is even in the cards for us anymore.
Perhaps it's time I move on from Kathryn Janeway for good and accept Seven's invitation to dinner after all.