Chapter 9: Breaking Parameters
A/N: Well then, this is long, and it took forever to write and edit.
Also, nobody ever told me it's super difficult to write smut when real life keeps pulling you out of the flow of writing said smut. I'm not even sure if I'm satisfied with how it turned out. Lol, this was like the hardest thing to write with constant interruptions of real life, it still blows my mind I got this done. If it seems like an incoherent mess then yeah, that's because this was written and edited over a period of two weeks (I usually write scenes like these in one go, but that's just impossible right now with the kind of life I'm living). Which reminds me, if you don't like sex skip the last part of this chapter, which would make the story incredibly hard to follow if you do skip it, but that's your choice.
I considered breaking this chapter up into two parts, but then I figured what's the point? However, that does mean that the next chapter will most likely be the last. Hope you enjoyed this snail of a two year ride! Lol, and any and all feedback is, of course, always appreciated. :) Hopefully, we'll meet again in the next chapter \\/
3 days later: Voyager – Commander's personal quarters
20:00 hours
He'd submitted for reinstatement the day after the holodeck debacle.
There was no reason for him to sit around and wait when he could be useful to the crew. Tuvok agreed, as did the Doctor, who seemed to clear him for duty more out of a sense of guilt than it being in accordance with his actual professional opinion.
The hologram had apologized profusely, acknowledging that he had learned a lot and saw more clearly now the fault of his ways. Casually, omitting the embarrassing little fact that his thought processes had been heavily influenced by a Nazi glitch that had taken B'Elanna and Harry most of that night to fix.
B'Elanna had reacted less than pleased when she'd gotten wind of his response: "That p'tahk, I should have reset his personality parameters when I had the chance."
As for him, he held no grudges. In many ways, the Doctor's actions hadn't been his own. It had been a case of indoctrination on a methodical level rather than a psychological one. Besides, he had more pressing concerns.
News of his passionate rendezvous with the captain had not only reached every single ear and eye on the ship with a speed that had momentarily rendered even the gossipiest of officer speechless, to make matters worse, a breach in security had provided the crew with access to the Doctor's personal holodeck programs and recordings. Along with dramatic operatic reenactments of L'orfeo, Norma and Idomeneo - which the crew wasted no time making hearty fun of - the recording of himself and the captain engaged in a heated battle of lips and limbs had been circling around the ship for a solid 72 hours now as well.
Everyone knew.
Everyone had seen.
That knowledge turned him hot under the collar every time his thoughts so much as flickered in that direction.
The breach had long since been resolved, but copies of the recording could not be so easily located and deleted. Tuvok was doing all he could to trace the offender, but had been unsuccessful so far.
Whispers and eyes followed Chakotay wherever he went; the experience was somewhat disconcerting. He didn't enjoy being the center of such controversial attention. But what got to him worse were the abrupt halts in conversations that occurred whenever he entered a crowded mess hall or stepped onto the bridge. Chakotay was a social creature; a man of simple delights. He liked to inquire, and show a personal interest in the wellbeing of his crew. He liked to be invested. This had been made entirely impossible by the enormous elephant that insisted on accompanying him into every single room.
"Your turn."
Ayala's voice yanked him back to the present.
He mindlessly threw a card on the table, having lost interest in the game about half an hour ago. They'd been at this for three evenings in a row. Ayala brought the cards; he provided the liquor. He knew why his friend was doing this. Though, neither of them had addressed the big and glorious elephant.
Ayala snorted, threw down a card of his own, and claimed victory in only three hands. His best game, yet.
"You're no match for me like this," he complaint. "At this point, I could beat you drunk."
Chakotay laughed.
At least the man was amusing to have around.
"You're really going to make me ask, eh?"
Chakotay rolled his shoulders.
There it was.
"We all knew you'd tap that eventually, but–"
"Pick your next words very carefully, lieutenant," his tone stern, rank emphasized by the uniform he hadn't taken off yet, even though his shift had ended hours ago.
"I was only joking."
"It's no joke to me."
Ayala's expression shifted.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"That should be obvious."
Ayala shrugged.
"Thought we were friends."
"She's the captain, what do you expect? I can't break her trust like that. Besides, things were rocky when we got back."
"Oh?"
Chakotay stared at the table before taking a swig of his beer.
He sighed.
"Let's play again," he said, and started shuffling the cards.
They played.
Ayala beat him.
He really didn't care.
They played again.
Beat.
Again.
"Fine, let's have it," he slammed the cards down on the table, done losing. "What's the crew saying?"
He knew the man was dying to tell him. It was probably the whole reason he stopped by with a deck of cards three evenings ago. But he never pushed. It made him a good friend. Always just present, never prying. Until about half an hour ago. Even Ayala seemed to have his limits.
"The former Marquis don't really care," he smirked. "If you must know, most of the men think it's just you chasing yet another trophy woman. We all remember what you were like on the Val Jean. The women, on the other hand, find it disgustingly cute. I'm sure most of them would still love to bed you. Personally, I never understood the appeal, but then, you're not my type."
Chakotay chuckled.
He wasn't surprised to hear this. Those that had served under him had lived by different rules for a long time. In the Maquis there had been no fraternization regulations. The only thing that mattered was their cause, and that cause could get them killed on any given day. Why waste time and energy on trying to suppress their love and desire for each other when it could all be over tomorrow?
The Val Jean.
He mentally shook his head.
He'd had quite the reputation back then.
It was odd to think of himself like that, but he had been a different man. A man with a cause, yes, but also one without a center. It's why part of him still believed Seska had been his karma. His punishment for all the pain he'd inflicted on the road to self-destruction.
"The Starfleet crew is a whole other story," Ayala continued, and sighed. "They've been coming down hard on you and the captain."
"Yes," he nodded. "I've noticed."
It saddened him to think that instead of the crew coming together, his feelings for his superior had created a rift instead. A clear division between Maquis and Starfleet. One he hoped had all but been erased by now. It was the only tinge of regret he felt for his actions.
"You really care for her, don't you?" his friend observed.
Chakotay nodded.
Ayala pursed his lips, amused, and leaned back in his chair.
"Never thought I'd see the day."
"Didn't think I had it in me?"
Ayala shook his head.
"I just never thought you were serious about her."
"How so?"
He downed the last of his beer.
"She's so rigid," he paused. "Could slay an army of Klingons with the looks she hands out."
Chakotay smiled.
"Yes, that's the captain," he hesitated. "Kathryn is someone else entirely."
"Guess you'd know."
They lapsed into silence.
Chakotay stared at the cards.
"So," Ayala said. "If you care so much about her, why in the hell are you spending your evenings with me?"
Chakotay stood, walked to the tiny refrigerator he kept at the back of his living room and pulled out two beers. He handed one to Ayala, and sat back down.
"Because Starfleet has rules."
Ayala's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, not missing a beat.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Could have fooled me"
He was referring to the recording. Chakotay briefly wondered how often Ayala had actually watched it. It made him slightly uncomfortable to think his friend possessed such a voyeuristic trait. But then again, he'd have to accuse the entire crew of voyeurism.
Himself, too.
Oh, yes.
He'd replayed the recording more times than he cared to admit. Analyzing her every movement on top of him. To what end he really didn't know. Didn't want to scrutinize his own behavior for too long either, much too afraid of what he would find if he did. Also, it was the only thing he had going for himself at the moment. If he ended up alone, at least he'd have something to remember them by. So yes, he did own a copy of the recording, and he'd be damned if he would ever hand it over to Tuvok. Surely, possessing it was his prerogative. He was in it after all. Even if Tuvok knew, the Vulcan would have to just turn a blind eye.
A thought occurred to him.
"Are there any rumors going around about who leaked the recording?"
"You haven't heard?"
"Heard what?"
"You really don't know?" Ayala smirked, and leaned forward. His elbows on the table, he moved closer in a rather conspiratorial manner.
"Tuvok leaked it."
=/\=
Present day: Voyager – Chatokay's office
01:06 am
"You asked to see me, commander."
Chakotay gave a curt nod, not sure his voice would be able to mask the agitation that pricked around the edges of his fingers if he spoke.
He motioned to the chair in front of his desk.
Tuvok sat down.
"I'll be blunt, lieutenant," he said. "A rumor has come to my attention."
The Vulcan remained motionless, not a single muscle revealed any sort of tension in his shoulders, nor did he appear particularly fazed about having been summoned to the Commander's office in the middle of the night without apparent rhyme or reason. In fact, if he had been responsible for anything at all there wasn't a line on his face that disclosed any sort of culpability.
It made Chakotay antsy.
He had always found it hard to trust faces that could not be read. Being a man of the soul, he depended on his ability to accurately predict the authenticity of another's intend by just looking at them, speaking to them. Vulcans could not be analyzed in that way; it was impossible to locate the soul of intend in their eyes. He found it hard to trust them, to trust Tuvok.
"Word around the ship has it that it was you who leaked the Doctor's holodeck programs and subsequent recordings thereof."
Tuvok raised a sharp eyebrow.
"Did you?"
"Yes, commander."
Chakotay stared, speechless.
When Ayala had first suggested the preposterous notion of the loyal lieutenant Tuvok betraying his captain like that, Chakotay had laughed in his face. When Ayala had then promptly assaulted him with evidence of the facts it was all he could do not to fall off his chair.
"You don't deny it, then."
"I see no reason to," Tuvok replied. "There is no point in denying that which would have come to light sooner or later," he tilted his head. "I had hoped for it to have been later. Yet, there was always the risk of you discovery before I had the chance to tell you myself."
"Why?!" Chakotay thundered.
The shame of it all flooded his senses, why would a Vulcan, of all people, involve himself in such a human conflict?
Tuvok straightened.
"Tell me, commander," he said. "Isn't it so that one of the main responsibilities that befalls you as a commander on this vessel is the wellbeing of the crew?"
He gave a curt nod.
"Then it stands to reason that you would understand that it is my main responsibility to attend to the safety of the afore."
Chakotay pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Your point?"
"My point," he echoed. "Would be that an opportunity presented itself; I chose to act accordingly."
"Accordingly?!" He roared. "Tell me, Tuvok, how does obliterating the right to privacy of your superior officers translate to 'acting in accordance' with the safety and wellbeing of the crew? Because I sure as hell seem to be lacking comprehension in that regard."
The Vulcan fell silent, visibly contemplating a proper response.
"Over the past couple of weeks, you and the captain have exhibited erratic, uncalculated and irritable behavior bordering on recklessness. Consequently, you acknowledged that you were unfit for duty, and incapable of making sound command decisions," he waited for the commander to respond in the affirmative.
Chakotay simply stared, having a gut feeling of where this was going.
"Starfleet's stance on fraternization between commanding officers is clear, sound," Tuvok paused, considering his next words with unusual care. "However, at present there is no clear protocol for what occurred between you and the captain on the planet you dubbed New Earth, not in the Delta Quadrant. You have tried, quite commendably, to revert back to your previous status quo, correct?"
Chakotay's teeth clenched tightly together.
"Unfortunately, you have failed to do so adequately. Therefore, it would be counterproductive and inadvisable to continue to pursue that course of action. As chief of security on this ship I simply cannot allow it. Not if I am to ensure the safety of the crew."
"That choice does not lie with you," Chakotay bit through gritted teeth.
"Correct," the Vulcan agreed. "Ultimately, it does not."
"You had no right to interfere!"
"No," Tuvok acknowledged once more. "But I do have a responsibility to this ship, its crew and their safety."
"And that responsibility made you force our hand? Have you got any idea what kind of hell your match-making attempts have put us through?!"
The Vulcan cocked an eyebrow, his stance unwavering.
"I do not regret my actions, commander," he said. "As I believe my intentions were in the best interest of this ship and its crew," he responded simply, honestly. "Nevertheless, I cannot deny that this predicament may be causing you emotional distress, and I do regret that. Likewise, do I regret that my actions might have broken the trust, and lost me the respect of my captain and dear friend."
Chakotay snorted.
Some friend he was turning out to be.
He silently regarded the Vulcan, sharp retorts and snide remarks on the precipice of his lips. It would be so easy to confine the man to quarters for the rest of their trip home. So. Easy.
Instead, he said,
"We're done here. You're dismissed, lieutenant."
Tuvok inclined his head, and made to leave, but then paused in front of the exit.
"Commander," he turned back. "When the captain decides to return to active duty, I'd like the opportunity to explain my actions to her myself."
Chakotay regarded him with stony indifference, then gave a curt nod.
At least the man had the good sense to want to come clean to his friend.
He could respect that.
Tuvok inclined his head a final time, then left. The doors swished open and closed behind him with such definiteness it left the commander utterly depleted.
He rubbed a hand over his face.
Initially, he'd felt that returning to active duty would do him good, that it would keep his mind occupied, his hands busy. But that was before he'd known about Tuvok's betrayal. Before whispers and stares started following him down every corridor and room he entered. And though it had been his own choice, a sense of anger was now starting to creep up his spine, igniting radical thoughts of retaliation.
Her silence had been loud.
Too loud.
It was starting to aggravate him.
The last time they spoke she'd asked for time.
Again.
He'd been reluctant to give into that plea once more. Time was such a vague request with her; it could mean anything from three minutes to three years. At present it had turned into three days. He still hadn't heard from her.
No one had.
He wasn't even sure if she was aware of the leaked recording. For all he knew, she'd wholly withdrawn from life and the conditions on the ship like some medieval anchorite walled up in a cell. He'd never seen her act this way before, didn't know who this reclusive person was.
Even Kes had been unable to contact her after the Doctor tried to reach out but had failed to do so.
He wondered.
"Computer, locate Kathryn Janeway."
"Captain Kathryn Janeway is on holodeck one."
His brows shot up.
"Really?" he said out loud.
"Please restate request," the computer droned.
He ignored the voice, and stood, turning into the direction of the door.
He was done.
Time was up.
=/\=
Present day: Voyager – Holodeck One
01:26 am
She entered the holodeck to a setting sun and renewed apprehension that quickly faded when she allowed herself to marvel at her surroundings instead of sulk. When they'd been trapped, she hadn't taken much time to explore or look around. But as she now walked past the shelter, it occurred to her how well of a job he'd actually done. The breeze, the light, the mood in perfect synch; it was a flawless copy, his craftmanship not just limited to the worldly.
She ended up at the clearing, where the campfire ashes beckoned gently, stretched invitingly before her. Long dusty imprints lay drawn in the cinders, twinging together in endless circular motions. Stunned, she hunched down and softly traced the lines. She remembered doing that. It had been the night before they'd left, the sun set hours ago. He'd watched her intently, his eyes lazily following the movements of her fingers by the dying light of the embers, enthralled.
She closed her eyes against the intensity of the memory as she marveled at the inclusion of that minute detail. Something that could be so easily dismissed by those who hadn't been there, didn't know. It was astounding, gut wrenching.
How much of them had he put into this place? What else would she find if she looked about more closely, thoroughly?
She sighed and stood, refusing to explore more than she could handle. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but so little she didn't already have the answers to. It had been plain to see in every fiber of his being as he had held her every night for weeks, had told her everything without the restraints of rank holding him back. And now she had tangible proof too. Could watch and rewind as often as she'd like.
Damn that recording.
Damn it all.
She'd promised herself not to let her thoughts wander in that direction, not tonight. But she couldn't help it. Her mind insisted on dragging her back to that totem pole of shame as though some sick and twisted part of her believed she deserved to be punished for this.
When the recording had leaked, the backlash had been massive. A tidal wave of crew complaints had crashed down on her within minutes, as though the initial shock, and embarrassment of having had to face a guilt-ridden Lieutenant Torres and a hot around the ears Ensign Kim, hadn't been enough to deal with.
The entire ship now knew and moreover had seen just how emotionally and sexually deprived their captain felt.
On the surface, she'd been dealing with the criticism of it all by herself, too embarrassed to consult anyone, the whole thing disconcertingly brutal enough as was. She didn't need anyone else to chip in and tell her how to handle this. Though, to be fair, she wasn't managing it very well. She'd barely slept a wink in three days. Her dreams constantly haunted by enraged faces and voices that condemned her leadership, doubted her loyalty to their cause.
In reality, the former Maquis side of the crew had remained suspiciously quiet on the matter. Either they were totally indifferent or preparing a ship wide mutiny. She really couldn't tell, anymore. It had been the Starfleet crew that had come down on them the harshest. Their disapproval deafening, at times, crushing. Two days ago, she had had to block the computer's incoming messages in a futile attempt to get some peace of mind.
Three days she'd been holding out.
Three whole days.
She couldn't take it anymore.
She craved a friendly face, a kind word, an understanding shoulder.
She craved–
Kathryn shook the thought from her mind and hugged her arms tightly to her chest as a sudden bone deep fatigue set in. She didn't know how much longer she could still hold onto this farce of a reality. It ached, made her brittle beyond recognition. What's more, her mind kept trying to convince her that this was the only reality that would ensure a safe passage home. Her heart wasn't so sure anymore.
"Why are you here?"
She jumped and whirled around, almost losing her balance as the unexpected deep voice broke the thick silence.
He stood about a dozen feet away, but didn't move, his expression firmly fixed as if he'd been standing behind her for quite some time, just watching, waiting. She shifted, uncomfortably, not sure what to make of the expression on his face. A strange tranquility had latched onto his frame, set decisively in his squared shoulders.
She tried to speak, but the words lodged in her throat, and like a deranged fish on dry land she found herself noiselessly opening and closing her mouth, instead. If he noticed her fumbling, he didn't care, only stepped forward in the forever fading daylight.
A twig snapped beneath his feet, propelling her voice back into motion.
"I could ask you the same," she challenged.
"Don't deflect, Kathryn," he countered. "I'm not the one breaking into other people's private holodeck programs in the middle of the night."
She looked away, and placed a steadying hand on the tree behind her. He had a point, but she'd be damned if she let him get under her skin that easily.
"It's hardly breaking in when you leave the door unlocked."
He took another step in time with her final step backward. Her back dully collided with the rough bark, forcing her eyes back to his, their faces inches apart.
"You're deflecting again," he whispered, almost teasingly.
She shook her head.
"What if I am?"
He studied her face, taking note of the creases on her forehead, the harsh set of her thin lips, the dark lines of fatigue under her eyes, but he didn't respond. Instead, his hand came up to her cheek, his thumb lingering on her chin.
"Chakotay, don't," she swayed.
He brushed a finger over her lower lip, tempting her to push back. To deny it all over again.
"Then stop me."
She closed her eyes, an insufferable shock of electricity violently spread through her body, beginning where his thumb whispered across her lip. His fingers traveled down to her throat, tangled through her hair, tugging her closer where her neck curved up her skull. She rocked forward dangerously, foreheads touching.
She was so tired.
So tired of denying, fighting, lying.
"I can't," she sighed.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
He pulled her completely to him and as their lips collided amid conjoint yearning she leaned into him fully, surrendering to whatever damnation awaited on the other side of oblivion. She'd been drunk on loneliness for far too long. Enough was enough.
His hand swiftly moved down her neck, collarbone, across the swell of her breast, her lips parting on a barely contained whimper and as their tongues met, danced and dueled, clouding her senses even further, the very last of her apprehension faded away.
His fingers curled around the fabric of her dress, hitching it up with clear intend. She moved to accommodate, and when his hand inched up her leg, her knees buckled under the blistering anticipation. Off kilter, they stumbled, and collapsed. His back hit the grass with a thud and knocked the wind clean out of him. He recovered quickly, claiming dominion before her mind had gathered enough momentum to catch up with her senses. They both knew what she could be like, how fast she turned tables and fought for control if there was ever the threat of losing it. He firmly held her, rolled them over until she found herself trapped beneath him. His fingers snaked up, pulled her panties aside, and before she had time to consider his intentions, he swiftly pressed a finger in between her folds.
She inhaled sharply, unprepared for the rapid intrusion, but arched into him nonetheless. Her eyes rolled back into their sockets while her breathing picked up, her body coaxing, imploring. He started a slow rhythm, moving his finger in and out of her, adding a second, then another, brushing against and teasing the swell of a nub that beseeched release every time he pressed back into her. She nearly pleaded, uninhibited pleasure on her lips. He captured it with his mouth, kissing, claiming, marking. She was so close. So close. He picked up his pace, faster, guiding her right to the edge, and –
She gasped.
Her eyes flew open, searching.
He'd stopped.
Withdrawn
Why?
A strained shiver heaved through her as their eyes connected, her body screamed, suspended on the verge of an abandoned release while every cell in her being cried to be liberated. With icy determination she resisted the urge to finish it herself, and clenched her fists tightly together in an effort to regain some semblance of equanimity. He'd straightened into a sitting position, fighting his own action, resisting her with difficulty as he forced his back into a rigid line, his eyes hungrily roving across her trembling body.
"Tell me what this is, Kathryn," he breathed deeply, motioning between them.
She stared.
"I need to know now," he continued, swallowing down the lust, the urge to pull her back in as his fingers inched ever closer only to withdraw again.
She blinked and regarded him with calculated attention.
"What do you want from me?"
Her voice thick.
"The truth."
"The truth is complicated."
"No," he shook his head. "It's really quite simple. Either you acknowledge this," he motioned between them again. "Or you don't."
"Neither answer would solve a thing. I'm still always going to be your superior," she retorted sharply.
He rubbed a weary hand over his face as the fight drained out of him. He'd given it his all to make her understand and still she was dancing around the issue, vying for time. More time he'd said he wasn't willing to give, didn't have to give.
He stumbled and rose, his stance defeated.
"So be it."
"Chakotay ," she reached for him, but he didn't stop, a finality settled over his retreating form, and she knew that this was it, the point of no return. The realization wrapped painfully around her throat, forced her to stand up.
"Please," she pleaded. "Wait."
He hesitated, his shoulders sagging, undoubtedly considering the meaning of her request and that damned word, its significance now reduced to nothing but a series of unprofessed declarations, contained within that one damned demand she repeated over and over: time.
He whirled around.
His expression livid, as he stormed back in three short strides.
"Goddamn it, Kathryn," he roared. "I've done nothing but wait! Weeks! Months!" he flailed wildly. "You've never once given me a truthful answer. Not even on that damned rock! Not even when I could read the truth of it as clearly as I can see it in your eyes now. I can't keep doing this," he jerked his head to the clearing then them.
"This ends right here! Right now!"
She crossed her arms in a vain attempt to stave him off. He had backed her up against the tree again, his rage overwhelming as his words stormed around her in dark clouds of bitterness and livid twisters of fury. All his patience gone; his whole being boiling, and she knew, she'd pushed him completely to the edge and over it, had found his breaking point and finally learned what lay beyond.
She blinked against the unexpected blurriness that obscured her vision, and bit down on her lip, forcing down that which she had little control over anymore. He interpreted the action as an additional act of defiance, and another round of rage detonated in his eyes.
"And you know what–".
"I love you."
"I don't ha–"
Whatever he had been about to say slipped past on incoherent wisps of silent disbelief, his expression one of utter shock. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, the glazed, discombobulated look in his eye almost comical if it wasn't so heart wrenching at the same time. He'd obviously been prepared for all of the negatives: anger, shame, disbelief, denial, the complete breakdown of their professional and personal relationship, but he clearly hadn't been prepared for this.
Confirmation.
Reciprocation.
Acceptance.
They stared at each other for what felt like minutes dragging, both unable to move beyond that point which she had never dared give but a fleeting thought. What now? Her eyes involuntarily flickered to his lips. Just for a second. An unconscious act she'd driven him mad with in the years before New Earth, or so he'd told her. She hadn't dared do it since, too aware of what it meant now. But he caught the action, and it was all either of them needed to break out of their stupor.
He pulled her to him, his need swift, bruising. A desire that had been building up inside exploded as he roughly pushed her up against the tree. Her back connected painfully with the wild wrinkles of the bark and a cry tore from her lips. He pulled back, bleeding guilt.
"Sorry," he whispered.
She turned, eyes catching his in a haze.
"Off."
She pushed at his jacket, hurled his com across the clearing, and ripped the pips off his turtle neck in retaliation, stripping him of rank and shirt. He surrendered willingly, welcoming her hands on his biceps, chest, and down his waist.
His own fingers fumbled with the buttons at the front of her blue dress. His other hand pushed the fabric up, finding her panties once more, ripping them away completely. Her dress followed seconds later as she raised her arms to allow him to pull the offending garment up and over her head.
She wore no bra, and naked before him he stopped. His expression shifted as he watched her, took her in. Seconds past and an odd sort of self-consciousness bloomed under his scrutiny, the urge to cover herself up quite overwhelming. He'd never regarded her with such resolute possessiveness before. There'd never been any need for it on New Earth as they hadn't ever reached such a breaking point of denial. She'd given into her feelings for him long before that had become an issue, and had lapsed into playful banter, teasingly fighting each other for control as they'd made a game out of seducing one before the other was able to gain the upper hand. He'd surprised her with his tactics, the boldness of an equal, but had always surrendered willingly if the situation called for it. Right now, he wasn't even going to let her try to gain control, he wouldn't surrender to anything. A cold shiver ran down her spine. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face the consequences of her actions, despite having brought the entire situation onto herself. She broke contact, her hand slidding down his pants, moving over the bulge that had grown prominently larger, but he caught her wrist before she could move further, confirming her suspicions. He shook his head.
"No," he said.
He raised her hand next to her face, pinned it to the tree, and moved down her chest with intend, catching a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard, possessively. She hissed, momentarily lost in the waves of warm desire that coiled in her stomach, pooled between her legs. His other hand travelled downward, landed between her thighs and she felt his fingers roughly pressing back between wet folds, continuing where he'd left off minutes ago.
He cursed aloud as his fingers curled inside of her, barely able to hold onto his resolve as his own desire twisted painfully through his pants against her thigh. She moaned loudly and dropped her head back against the bark, eyes falling closed as she heaved into the crushing sensations of his lips on her chest, fingers pushing and moving deeper inside of her. As she surrendered, his touch relaxed, more careful and calculating than before, his tenderness almost sending her over the edge. Almost. But she was determined to hold out longer, make him work harder for the control he'd taken without a fair fight. He kissed his way up her neck and reclaimed her lips, tongue hungrily twining with hers as his fingers languidly continued moving in and out of her, circling her clit with his thumb.
Her legs gave way, unable to support her body without the assistance of her mind which was now entirely engrossed, detained by his administrations. The tug of gravity forced his fingers from her, and he caught her by the waist as they tumbled to the grassy ground below. She regained some of her composure then, landing on top of him, conquering a scrap of the control he let slip. She made quick work of his pants, pulled his length free, and heard him groan as her fingers closed around his hardness, her intention clear.
"No, Kathryn," he grabbed her hand, and coaxed her back up and as she moved up his torso, his length slipped into place, pressed impatiently against her entrance, waiting, asking for permission instead of taking. The consideration nearly broke her as the memory of their last encounter swept through her, his silent apology stronger than words. She'd long since forgiven him. Her head dropped to his shoulder, nipped at the skin with her teeth, stalling despite her body's protestations. If she allowed them to do this, here, on Voyager, there'd be no taking it back. There would be a clear division between proper restrained and letting loose, a blatant disregard for the regulations, an action that could not be reversed. Unlike New Earth, where their activities had been completely within the bounds of the parameters they'd set for themselves, whatever occurred on the ship would always happen alongside the chain of command, consequence bound.
She nodded wordlessly.
So be it.
He pushed inside.
A sharp groan tore from his lips and her head fell backward on a moan, her walls tightening around him. His lips curled against her temple, and she imagined a deliberate impish smile materializing on his face as he hooked his leg around hers and twisted. She yelped in surprise, her back hitting the grass with a thud, and before her lungs had the chance to catch up with the spinning in her head, he fully drove himself into her, fists braced on either side of her head. He didn't wait for her to adjust to the feel of him around her, started moving in and out with practiced ease, done waiting. Her body remembered, met his thrusts in a preordained stride, rehearsed a dozen times before tonight. And goddamn, she'd missed this, him. Their easy intimacy, uncomplicated as it had been. When his lips reclaimed hers, he purposefully shifted, pressing up against her anterior wall with a firm decisiveness, and she knew what he was doing as he rubbed against a particularly sensitive area. Her hand travelled to his lower back, the heel of her palm driving him deeper, and as he pulled out, thrust back in, she could feel the beginnings of her orgasm clench around him, mounting and climbing until she was nearly back where he'd left her balancing not half an hour ago.
He slowed his pace.
No!
"Promise," he whispered into her ear, as he gradually pulled out. "You won't take this back," and forcefully slammed back in.
She pressed her foot to his spine, coaxing him on. Ignoring his audacity, dragging her to this point again and leaving her high and dry once more.
He stopped.
Withdrew –
"Chakotay, I swear I'll kill you if–"
Thrust back in, his fingers reaching down, coaxing her over the edge.
She cried out, an incoherent mix of consonants and syllables streamed from her lips, her release finally rolling over her in waves of postponed ecstasy. Her nails dug into his back, the spasms quaking through her, and she arched off the ground, while her head buzzed with shameless pleasure, trembling, shuddering, coming alive. He held her, pulled out and pushed back in until her tremors sparked his own release and with one final thrust, he followed her over the edge. His arms gave out as he emptied himself inside of her and she wrapped her legs around him, his lips against her neck, panting, both waiting for the spasms to subside.
"Shit," she breathed against the side of his head.
He pulled back and looked her in the eye, his expression cautious, but not quite fearful, because she didn't turn away. No shadow of regret visible in her demeanor.
"Not quite the response I'd expected," he smirked.
"You knew this would happen," she croaked.
He kissed the top of her head and then rolled onto his back with a groan.
"I hoped."
She nodded and settled against him. Her arm across his chest; her face pressed against the crook of his neck. A wave of contentment washed over her as they lapsed into a companiable silence.
"I won't," she promised.
She felt him nod, exhale sharply, a tremble in his voice when he finally answered.
"Good," he said.
