Guilty Pleasures
by the stylus
Her shoes are off. It never occurred to me that Kathryn Janeway might prefer to be barefoot. These are the little things we are gradually learning about each other. It hit me last week that we now have sides of the bed. Simple blessings. Unexpected.
She chews her bottom lip while she works. Her uniform jacket is a distant memory. And tonight, her hair is the worse for the wear of too many passes of her hands through it. Three times she has woken me in the middle of the night with soft kisses, and each time it has been the best kind of surprise. When we make love in the dark, she is freer, more sure of herself. She is ticklish just there...
She squirms at my touch but focuses on the padd while batting my hand away. I lean over and blow in her ear, softly, until she turns to look at me. I have to smother my laughter as she feigns indignation. She manages not to crack a smile until I tickle her again. Then, she is lost. I have to grab her shoulders to keep us both from rolling off the couch and into my coffee table. We have impacted enough of my furniture in the last four weeks. And this would certainly be a difficult injury to explain to the Doctor.
Gasping a bit, she goes back to reading. "Watcha doing?" I feel like a little boy, wanting to hear her voice much more than I actually care about what is on that padd. She does that to me.
"Crew evaluations. Why? Are you-- Chakotay! Stop it!"
I am deftly prodding her side with my toes.
"Chakotay! I need to finish these. You know," swatting at my foot, "I could use your help here. Poor Kim is due a promotion-- long overdue-- and just about all of Life Sciences could use another half pip or so."
I run the foot which was banished from the couch up her calf, feeling the muscle ripple under my toes.
"Damn it, Chakotay!" But she is laughing now.
The foot moves higher.
Finally, she throws the padd at the coffee table. "All right, mister. That's it. I've had it with you. If you aren't going to let me get my work done, then--"
"Then what?" My best grin: I know for a fact she cannot resist my dimples. It is another little thing about her I have learned in our brief association.
"Then I'm going to have to put you to work." Her smile is feral as she leans toward me and... And digs her fingers into my side, just below my ribs. I howl with laughter, unbearably sensitive to her touch. It has never been like this with anyone else; I am sure of that. Growling, I launch myself at her and manage to topple us both to the floor, though we narrowly avoid the table.
"Oof." She is beautiful underneath me, a little stunned, her mouth open. Neither of us seem particularly graceful at the moment. I lean in, maybe to kiss her, but never make it. I feel something impact with the back of my head and neck.
Now I am the one stunned. Kathryn Janeway has just initiated a pillow fight with the throw pillows from my sofa. Another good blow convinces me that I'd best stop marveling at that fact and defend myself. As I turn to arm myself, she manages to worm out from beneath me and scramble to her feet. Turning back, I find her crouched in a defensive posture a few feet away, hair every which way, a Starfleet-grey pillow held in front of her like a crazy shield. Gods, I love this woman.
I attack swiftly, swinging for the head, but she blocks my shot and manages to land a wallop on my jaw before I grab her pillow and return the favor. It escalates-- or degenerates-- and we are finally chasing each other around my quarters, pillows flying, breathing hard. I don't want to know what Tuvok would make of this.
It ends when I trip on the edge of that blasted table and fall like a felled tree, my path tripping her. Two solid sounds are our bodies impacting the deck.
It takes me a moment to recover my wind and turn so that I can see her, lying facing away from me. A choked sound from her-- laughter? or tears?
I pull myself over to her. She is curled into a ball, arms wrapped around her knees; and, to my horror, she is sobbing, her whole body heaving. I don't know that I have ever seen her cry.
"Kathryn, are you hurt?"
She shakes her head. No. What then? I sit up, bracing my back against the couch, and pull her up to rest between my legs, her head against my chest. I can feel her breath heave and catch as she cries. I am so helpless. This is also what she does to me. "Shh," I try to soothe her, running my hands over her back and hair, trying to say something with touch that I cannot find the words for.
Slowly she uncurls a bit and the sobbing slows. I turn her to face me and use my thumbs to wipe her cheeks. Her eyes are very bright.
"Kathryn, love, what is it?"
"I'm sorry. It's just... This." She makes an impatient gesture which encompasses all of my quarters, me, her. "I didn't know... I didn't remember... After all the things that have happened out here."
She ducks her head back into my chest and we both clutch each other tightly for a moment. But suddenly I have to see her face. I have to know that she is not going to end this tonight because of whatever demons plague her. I cup her chin in my hand and bring her face up until she has to meet my eyes; but I cannot bring myself to ask the question.
She studies me, breathing still ragged and eyes slightly swollen. She takes a great, shuddering breath which I can feel in my own body. In a voice so quiet I can hardly make it out, she asks, "Chakotay, do your gods believe in forgiveness?"
"Oh, love." I pull her close and wrap her as tightly as I can in my arms. I can feel her heart beating rapidly against my chest. "I do." Fervently. "I do."
My heart would be breaking if it were not so full.
Fin
All characters are the property of their creators. The author makes no profit from this work.