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Title: Daisies in a Field
Author: kneipho
Beta: N/A
Rating: T (PG-13) For use of adult language.
Fandom: VOY
Character/Pairing Codes: J/C
Notes: Written for My Man Godfrey (and Jimmy Hendrix)
She woke up feeling lazy and warm, encased in warmth, completely encompassed by the exceptional feeling of serenity. Greeting the dawn "with a smile" had never been an easy task for Admiral Janeway's little girl. On Voyager, it had been near impossible. Adjusting from the comfort of sleep to commanding a Starship had been a lot like punching through a brick wall. It felt... It felt really, really bad.
However, today was different. The wall had somehow collapsed and eroded away; like a castle built from sand dissolves into the sea. She felt good: relaxed, immersed in equanimity. Kathryn sighed. And then, she felt new sensation: Discomfort, a dull pressure that grew gradually and traveled along her abdomen to wrinkle her layer of relaxation. She had to pee. The pressure on her bladder charged at her, demanded she unseal her eyes. The lids fluttered and opened slowly.
Her jacket-turned-blanket slipped down from just above her nose as she turned her head to glance over at the man beside her. Chakotay was asleep. His huge body sprawled across the couch, his dark head thrown backward. One arm rested on his forehead, bent. It covered his eyes, blotted out the markings of his tattoo. The other arm rested behind her back, fixed but accommodating. His breaths even and slow: loud, synchronized perfectly with the undisturbed rise and fall of his chest.
Motionless, she watched him, transfixed by the vision of the splendid-looking male resting beside her. He was terribly sexy for a former Maquis terrorist and knew it too. Practically every female Ensign (not to mention a few male ones, as well) had made some sort of sexual overture to him during the past seven years. Alien woman, too many alien women, often found him irresistible. It's those damn facial dents, Kathryn thought to herself. No, his eyes. His voice, maybe? The reformed bad boy image. Who cares? He's delicious. She snickered quietly like a teenager in school and shook her head at her errant thoughts. He would sleep here, in my quarters every night, if I just asked. She inhaled his scent, rich and unmistakable. It permeated her nostrils from everywhere: from the couch, the blanket, her rumpled uniform... from him. Color rose to her cheeks.
Her small hand, the fingers tapered, the soft skin almost translucent, reached down to record the length of his jaw. Once her fingers made contact, they slid, almost of their own accord, from the sensitive hollow just beneath his ear down to the tip of his bronzed chin. Chakotay's eyes snapped open. Mahogany irises startled into alacrity by the unfamiliar caress from a woman's hand so incredibly familiar. Now his hand, large and adamant, snaked out, implanting itself deep within the tussled mass of Kathryn's hair. He pulled her head forward and his lips met no resistance as they brushed buoyantly against hers.
Kisses: The movements of two mouths like daisies grouped together in a field, in spring, when gray clouds emerge, benevolent, and rainfall is soft and promising.
They broke apart; gentle currents of emotion flowing between two people caught in a tender coil of incontestable affection.
"I need to go to the bathroom," she said.
His laughter: rumbling, deep, infectious —accompanied by the charming obligatory dimples.
"You have the Alpha Shift, this morning."
"Yes, Ma'am." More laughter. More dimples.
"See you on the bridge, Commander."
"Aye, Aye Captain."
Daisies In A Field, kneipho 2001