a/n: Inspired by mylittleredgirl's masterwork "On Location," which she wrote for John and Elizabeth over in the land of Stargate: Atlantis. Don't worry, she gave me her blessing to shamelessly steal this setup.
It's a lovely warm night, negotiations here on Terkallias have yielded plenty of deuterium, and Kathryn is sitting in a comfortable, cushioned chair, surrounded by delicious food and drink. Last night was a grand feast with several senior staff and what seemed like every diplomat on the planet; tonight is a smaller affair, just her and Chakotay at the chancellor's palace.
Something's wrong.
She doesn't really know when she noticed, but Chakotay is acting strange. Somehow his chair has closed the distance to hers, and he's more or less right at her elbow. He smells good, but she's not focused on that. She's not.
Kathryn takes a deep breath and tries to force her wandering attention back to the table around her. The chancellor's wife has been talking about the mountains to the north of the city, which apparently might be a pleasant place for crew members looking for outdoor sports on shore leave.
Kathryn nods. "I'm sure they'll be grateful. We truly appreciate your hospitality."
The chancellor fixes his unwavering gaze on her. "We are honored by the presence of a leader so beautiful."
She smiles politely, but doesn't say anything. He's been very attentive. It's… odd.
It's all odd, if she's being honest with herself. Even Chakotay isn't himself tonight. As dinner has gone on, she's gone from politely engaged, to bored, to overly aware of her first officer beside her. She could swear she can feel heat radiating from his skin, and it's intensely distracting.
She's hot. She feels too hot. It's a warm evening; for this less-formal state dinner, she and Chakotay are out of uniform, showing respect for the personal invitation of the chancellor and his wife. She's wearing a simple dress, just soft, lightweight, navy fabric, but even shrugging off her wrap, leaving her arms bare, doesn't alleviate the heat. Was it this hot ten minutes ago?
She glances back at Chakotay. He doesn't say anything, but his cheeks are flushed, too. She licks her lips, about to ask if he's feeling anything, but then his gaze drops to her mouth, and whatever she was thinking leaves her mind.
The chancellor leers at her, and for a moment his eyes flick to her glass.
She feels, rather than sees, Chakotay tense up beside her, and then his hand is on her shoulder. "Captain, could I have a word with you? In private?"
She barely has time to murmur assent, excusing herself to the chancellor and his wife, before Chakotay's pulling her out of her seat. His grip on her elbow is probably rougher than he means it to be, and she can't help noticing how close he's keeping his body to hers, how deliberately he's shielding her from the chancellor's gaze. This isn't what he's normally like, she thinks dazedly.
He's acting possessive.
The realization hits her in a flood of unmistakable arousal.
"There's something in that wine," he murmurs into her ear as he pulls her down the hallway, out of sight from the dining table. "How do you feel?"
"I-strange." She swallows, watching as his eyes fix on her throat. "Strange. I feel warm."
"So do I."
"Was it an accident? Our wine came from the same pitcher. Maybe the chancellor didn't realize-"
"He's had his eyes on you all night," Chakotay says. "I don't think this was an accident."
"You mean-"
"Yes."
As tense as the moment is, as serious as it could have been, Kathryn can't help it. She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. He looks at her quizzically, his brow furrowed. "What?"
"It's been quite a while since someone tried to get me drunk and have his way with me."
Chakotay's already tapping his combadge. "Chakotay to Voyager." Silence. "Voyager, please respond." Faint static, but no response. "Yours?"
She taps her own badge. "Janeway to Voyager." No response. She looks up at him. "Definitely not an accident."
"Some kind of dampening field?"
"That's my guess."
She hears the chancellor's sharp voice from down the hallway, caustic as vinegar. Guards, where are they? Whoever responds speaks more softly; it's unintelligible, but he seems angry. Find them and bring that woman to my bed at once.
Chakotay grabs her hand as they hear the heavy footsteps of guards heading towards them. They run the other direction, but the palace is a maze of rooms and corridors, and she has no idea how to find an exterior door. The hallways have gone from opulent to utilitarian. She has the sinking feeling they're going the wrong way.
The footsteps are getting closer. They need a place to hide.
Kathryn sees a series of doors in an adjoining corridor off to their right, and before she can overthink it, she grabs his arm and drags him with her, wrenches open the door, and pulls him inside. It's a linen closet, or whatever the Terkallian equivalent is. It's tiny and cramped, and there's barely room for the two of them between stacks of neatly-folded textiles.
They both freeze. She strains her ears, her fingers curled around his forearm to quell some of the nervous (excited) energy, but she doesn't hear anyone approaching their hiding spot.
Kathryn lets out a long, slow breath, and she doesn't miss the twitch of his muscles in response. She's hyperaware, every nerve ending in her body is sizzling, and he's just so present. His breath is hot on her skin, and his muscles are taut under her hands. He's so solid. Solid and tall and warm. How has she not stopped before this to marvel at how warm he is?
He swallows hard, and because they're basically pressed against each other, she feels it, just like she knows he can feel her chest heaving against his because she's just so unbearably warm. She doesn't really have anywhere else to put her hands, so she settles them on his chest. The contact drags a deep, low groan out of him, making her shiver. "You can't just keep touching me like that."
"Why not? I always touch you." She does, she knows. It's normal. It's not strange that she's sliding her hands over his chest right now. It's fine.
"Kathryn-"
She meets his eyes, finally, and her mouth goes dry. It's not like she hasn't seen interest there; they were all alone for three months and she was very aware that it was always a matter of when, not if. But she's never seen him quite like this—his dark eyes are blazing, and he's staring at her with such utter hunger on his face that she's already blushing.
She'd never realized just how tenuous his self-control was. And she's never seen him so close to losing it.
"Chakotay?" Her voice comes out more breathless than she intends, and she can't possibly miss the way his breath quickens as she says his name.
"Kathryn." His gaze is fixed on her lips, and she doesn't have another word but she's already reaching for him. Her back hits the wall, and before she can do more than gasp his mouth is on hers.
She's hyperaware, and he's everywhere, he's all around her, his tongue teasing hers, his hands hitching up her skirt, the tight, hot pressure of his thigh sliding between her legs.
It's frantic and messy and desperate and way too much, too fast, but she can't stop, can't breathe, can't think. He's hard against her, his body taut, and she's never believed in spontaneous human combustion but she is absolutely going to burst into flames any second now. His hips press into hers, pinning her tight against the wall behind her. She kisses him hard, challenging, chasing his mouth, catching his lower lip between her teeth. He groans at that, a low rumble she can feel vibrating in his chest, and his hips roll harder against hers.
She's kissing him like she's starving, biting his lip, gripping his hair with greedy, desperate hands, practically climbing up his body in an attempt to just feel all of him because she can't possibly get close enough.
And then something happens.
He freezes, his mouth still pressed to hers, and her dizzy, lust-fogged brain takes a long few seconds to realize they're not, well, doing this anymore.
Chakotay leans down a fraction of an inch, puts his lips to her ear, whispers so softly it barely makes a sound. "Someone's outside."
Kathryn goes utterly still, her body flooded with a completely different tension. Her breathing is still ragged, so she presses her flushed face to his chest, trying to calm her racing heart. His pulse is racing under her cheek; she shuts her eyes, trying to calm herself.
She hears footsteps in the hallway. Two people, it sounds like. She hears one of them speaking, muffled through the door, too indirect for the translator to pick it up.
Thankfully, the footsteps pass the door and keep going. She feels Chakotay let out a breath, his grip on her shoulders relaxing.
"Are you all right?" he murmurs into her ear.
She nods. Somehow her hands are still on his chest-why is she still touching him?-and she strokes the smooth fabric of his shirt. "Just hot."
"What the hell was in that wine?"
"I don't know." She's not really paying attention to what he's saying, because she's discovered that the vee neck of his shirt is right near her face, and honestly, how is she supposed to focus on words when her lips are brushing his chest like this?
She's not kissing him on the mouth, so it's fine. She's very sure of this.
His thumb has been tracing light circles on her shoulder, but now his hands are sliding down her back, making her shiver as he leans even closer.
"You smell good," he says, his voice rough. She can feel his lips press against her throat.
"I used to daydream about this," she whispers, the words escaping her between kisses she presses to his chest. "On New Earth."
"Kathryn-"
"I sat there in the bathtub and I wanted you to come join me."
He groans at that, his hands on her thighs squeezing and pulling her against the line of his body. It pins her back tighter against the wall, pressing the bulge of his growing erection against her, sending a flood of hot arousal through her body.
The door cracks open, but to her surprise, Kathryn sees the tall, burly chief cook peering in at them, apron still wrapped around his barrel-like torso. She immediately pulls away from Chakotay, loosening her death grip on his shirt, trying to smooth the front of her dress down her thighs.
"I can get you out," the cook whispers. "Follow me."
After a quick glance at Chakotay (okay? okay) Kathryn follows the cook into the hallway. He hurries them back through a set of doors into the kitchen, where they slip past a vast, bubbling cauldron half-full of the same fragrant, delicious stew they'd enjoyed so much for dinner.
"Why are you helping us?" she asks as they thread their way past a big pile of vegetables.
"You're nice." The cook shrugs. "No one else told me they liked the stew."
Across the kitchen, he fumbles with a control panel, and what looks like a cargo door opens slightly. It's narrow, but she can see the garden outside. Freedom.
"Thank you," Chakotay tells the cook, who smiles at them.
"Get out, follow the old path through the garden. I'll make sure no one follows."
Kathryn slips through the half-open door, and Chakotay squeezes through behind her. The door shuts behind them and they hurry down an overgrown path, clambering over the crumbling old walls of some long-forgotten section. They're far enough outside the complex that they should be free of the dampener, she thinks. Sure enough, when she taps her combadge, she hears the reassuring chirp. "Janeway to Voyager."
Tuvok's voice comes through clearly. "It is good to hear your voice, Captain. Your disappearance from scans worried us. I have already dispatched a security team."
"The commander and I are fine. We'll explain later. Two to beam up."
Chakotay's not particularly surprised that the captain leaves Sickbay the minute the Doctor clears her. She's out the door without so much as a backward glance.
He sits on his own biobed while the Doctor checks his readings, nodding slowly. "You're doing well too, Commander. The chemical is clearing your bloodstream, and your testosterone levels are returning to normal." He presses a hypospray to Chakotay's neck. "This should help your system metabolize any of the chemical remaining. How do you feel?"
"Much closer to normal."
"Good." The Doctor picks up his tricorder. "Was there any sexual activity?"
"Excuse me?"
"In addition to your increased hormone levels, there is a considerable amount of the captain's saliva—"
"No!" Chakotay clears his throat, feeling his face get hot. "No. No sexual activity." The Doctor stares at him for a long moment, and Chakotay wonders if he's going to have to explain, but the Doctor seems to decide it's not worth the effort. Chakotay assumes Kathryn was asked the same thing, and gave more or less the same answer. He hopes.
"Very well." The Doctor sets down his tricorder. "You're cleared for now. Please come in tomorrow morning for a follow-up exam."
"Will do. Thank you, Doctor."
Kathryn is fully aware that walking out of Sickbay without talking to Chakotay is a cowardly move.
But she's profoundly embarrassed right now. The Doctor didn't call her out, exactly, but he probably knows exactly what happened. She's not avoiding her first officer. She just needs two minutes to herself to figure out how she feels about this.
Tuvok is waiting for her report, and before she talks to him, she needs to talk to Chakotay. But before she talks to Chakotay, she needs to take a deep breath and decide what to do. And put on her uniform. And pin up her hair.
She's not surprised when her door chimes a few minutes later. She's even less surprised to see it's Chakotay. He's back in uniform, too.
The Doctor assured her that the effects of the alien chemical are long gone, so there's no reason for the sudden, sharp flare of attraction that warms her, pouring through her body like a silent, unstoppable wave.
She clears her throat. "Commander."
He hesitates for a moment. "Kathryn."
Well then. He's pushing, just a bit. She takes a steadying breath. "We should probably talk about this."
He nods slowly. "Probably."
It's not the first time she's hit the pause button by demanding a sitrep, is it? Last time, they were the only two people on the planet. And he was kind, gentle, unassuming; he made up a fake legend, twined his fingers through hers, and made it clear he wanted nothing more than she was comfortable giving him.
Of course, there's a big difference between I was a little spooked when that massage started to feel too good and I shoved my tongue down your throat.
"I can't say I've ever been in a situation like this," she confesses, folding her arms over her chest. "I suppose I'm not really sure what to say."
She was about eight seconds away from having sex with her first officer in an alien linen closet. This scenario was not covered in command school.
"We're both adults. I think we're mature enough to accept that it happened."
"It shouldn't have."
He shrugs. "The chancellor shouldn't have drugged the wine."
Kathryn sighs at that. "I suppose I can be grateful that it happened the way it did." It's sobering to realize exactly what the chancellor was trying to do. She's very, very lucky she wasn't alone.
"Permission to speak freely?"
She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Granted."
He pauses for a moment, thinking through his words. "Kathryn, I know we put certain things aside when we left New Earth, and I accept it. I won't pretend I wasn't enjoying our time in that closet, and I'm fairly sure you were, too. But I can promise you this: just because we were drugged and got a little carried away doesn't mean I will ever respect you less. You're still my captain, and I'm still your first officer."
That sounds too easy, she thinks. Too tidy. Too good to be true. And if it were anyone other than Chakotay, she probably wouldn't trust it. But this is the man who built her a bathtub, built her a headboard, and asked for absolutely nothing in return. The man who was content to wait, even when there was nothing standing between them but her own hesitation.
"May I continue speaking freely?"
She shrugs. "You're on a roll, so why stop now?"
"Someday when we're in the right situation and we can both make the decision freely…" He pauses. Offers her a small smile. "I wouldn't mind re-visiting."
Oh, she wants. She wants so much more than she's allowed to. "Neither would I."
His smile widens. Once again, Kathryn can't quite suppress the longing for something she so desperately wishes she could let herself have.
"Tuvok to Captain Janeway."
Impeccable timing. She straightens, clears her throat. "Yes, Tuvok."
"Captain, I believe it is important to finish a full report of this evening's events."
"Yes, of course. Sorry for the delay. The Commander and I will be with you in a few minutes."
"Understood."
Kathryn looks up at her first officer. "We should get going."
"Of course."
She pats his chest. "I hope someday we can continue this… discussion."
That earns her a flash of dimples. "Feel free to pull me into a linen closet anytime you see fit."
Kathryn shakes her head in mock disapproval, tapping him on the shoulder as she turns toward the door and he falls in step with her. "Commander."
"For what it's worth, Captain—" He pauses for a second, like he's not sure if he should continue.
"What?"
He flashes her a crooked grin. "You're a hell of a good kisser."