IMPROVING IT

RATED NC17

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters and the premise behind Star Trek.

Sequel to Proving It

Voyager was in its fifteenth year of travel, still tirelessly plodding toward the Alpha Quadrant. The vast area of space now being traversed was devoid of inhabited planets and would remain so for many more years. Fortunately, new and improved technology had sped up the journey. The ship would be home in a few more years and had been able to keep pace with the needs of the crew. No stops would be necessary until they got home, except in case of emergency. It made for a peaceful existence – but a tedious one.

In the absence of conflict, Voyager had become what Captain Janeway had feared: a generational ship. Marriage ceremonies were frequently performed and children of all ages nearly burst the seams. Programs and classes were set up to train the next generation of Starfleet officers and crew, but were geared mostly to ship’s operations, not so much on armed conflict any more.

When Janeway stopped to think about the changes wrought on her starship, she drew parallels to an old story from Earth – ‘Our Town.’ Settled. Staid. Dull. She and her First Officer had remained unmarried, although they had had a physical relationship since ten years ago. She was the stubborn one about it; some part of her wanted to retain something of the old life on board her ship. She knew he would have been all for marriage, but she couldn’t quite relinquish the small degree of command she still retained. It irked her that instead of ‘Lamda Three’ commands, she was approving menus and third grade programs.

What had she become? Was she even still a Captain? Or merely a just figurehead? Mayor of a town called Voyager? A town which traveled calmly through space and lacked all the excitement it once enjoyed; phasers firing, crews bickering, enemies to outwit, and warp speed escapes into a dense starfield.

How she missed excitement!

She should be content. To no longer feel her blood pressure rising, not knowing if at any moment they would all be blown to kingdom come, or shot full of nanites, or turned into blue-green automatons, or set down on some godforsaken planet, thrown back on their wits to survive – yes, she should feel great contentment. Yet she didn’t.

There was something missing. Life had become too predictable. Too settled. Too boring. Even her relationship with Chakotay had mellowed.

No use going to the holodeck. Those havens that once provided entertainment had been given over to classrooms.

She needed diversion. She needed some excitement! There was little opportunity to find it now in the deep reaches of space.

Thinking back over the years, one particular incident stirred in her memory. It was not long after the two crews had joined, and she and her newly appointed First Officer had an unusual first contact situation, one which she hoped with her last breath that Starfleet never got wind of!

…there on the floor was a clear picture of himself and Janeway coupling, amid a generous number of tribesmen including the chief, witnessing the act. The chief wanted the two of them to prove Janeway was his; to prove she was his mate. Otherwise, there would be no other obstacle to his claiming the red-haired female for his own. He had drawn that proviso out, too. It was all too clear…

At the time she had been terrified, horribly embarrassed. But now as the memory returned, it stirred her. As time had mellowed her memory, the most she could recall of the incident centered around him and only him. At the time he had as much as possible created a protective shell for her. She remembered only his big body, the sense of danger, of excitement. If she felt this way remembering it, tingly and excited, perhaps Chakotay would, too.

She went to find him.

He was in his office, going over the duty roster. She waited by the open door and watched him a moment. After impatiently tapping the last bit of data into the padd, he tossed it onto the table and reached for a nearby cup of coffee. After draining the cup, he leaned back in his blanket-draped chair and closed his eyes. It was as if she was really seeing him for the first time in years – he had lost his edge. Well, had she not as well? Life now consisted of data, duty rosters, schedules, and trivia. Where had the angry warrior gone? What had happened to the man who had rejected Starfleet to preserve his own principles? What had happened to the fearless officer who at one time taken her in front of a bunch of wild tribesmen rather than let her die?

Was having a safe existence worth such consequences?

She felt trapped. Did he, also? If so, trapped they must remain, for too many lives depended on them. However…

There were ways out of traps. Subtle ways.

She closed and locked the door. ‘Chakotay,’ she said softly. He opened his eyes and turned his head.

‘Come in,’ he invited, smiling. He made to get up but she motioned him to stay seated.

‘I need you to help me with something.’

‘Sure.’

He headed for the door and found it locked. Poor dear, it had been a while. He’d forgotten that certain timbre of her voice. ‘No, not out there,’ she said. ‘In here.’

He watched her slowly pull the pins out of her hair and let them drop. Now, at last, he was on the same page. In the past, one of her mistakes had been to wait for his signal. She would call the shots today. He came to her and pulled her uniform zipper down. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Get out of your uniform. I’ll handle mine.’

Mystified, he backed off. Slowly, he removed his uniform, keeping his eyes on her while she removed hers. She gestured toward his bedroom. ‘Shall we?’

He nodded. He had a feeling this was going to be something special.

She bade him lie on his back. To her satisfaction, he was already aroused. She showed him four long straps she had found in the cargo bay. Positioning herself beside him, she bound one of her ankles to his, allowing for the height difference. She bound the other. He came up from the bed with a question on his lips, but she forced him back, now binding one of her wrists to his, then, awkwardly, the other. He helped with the last one. Now he wasn’t so sure. ‘I remember, Kathryn. Do you really want to recreate that?’

‘In some ways, it was rather exciting,’ she purred. ‘I think we owe it to each other to do it again, now, in privacy. No spectators this time. Let’s improve what we had to prove then. Are you up for it?’

‘Very much so,’ he affirmed, and spread his arms wide, bringing her down to his chest. Their lips met hungrily; there was such a tangible spark of excitement that the whole room seemed electrified. Bound as they were, little could be done in the way they usually made love, so they were forced to improvise. He stretched her along his body, his hardness pressing into her belly, their hands above their heads, while he moved his mouth around her face and down her neck, as far as he could reach. Simply rubbing his legs against hers and his chest against her breasts, belly to belly, was so different and somehow so much more exciting than the increasingly sedate way they usually made love. Every sensation was new.

He rolled them to her back and as before, supported his big frame on his elbows, clasping her hands in his. She’d instigated the game but he’d finish it! His tongue trailed down as far as he could reach. Deep kisses and his breath in her ear and the pressure of his hips soon had her ready. He wanted to make sure this time, for before, it had been rushed. Forced. Now was her time, his and hers alone. He would make it up to her now.

Pulling her legs wide with his own, he again used his stomach muscles alone to position himself against her. But he made no move to enter her. He continued the soft kisses, gently holding her down, until she writhed beneath him, then he slipped easily in. They both gasped with the sensation, pausing to reflect on the strength and purity of the moment. Unable to wait any longer, she began moving her hips against him. He soon joined her in the most intimate of dances, every step accomplished with only legs and hips and muscles, first maddeningly slow, then faster, now circular, now deep. They were determined to make it last. Then she rolled with him and took the initiative again. He had to bend his knees, but they made a backrest for her. He was able to thrust upward, but best of all, he could caress her belly and breasts. When she at last threw her head back and every muscle tensed, he knew he could release and find that exquisite place of total exhaustion. Then he pulled her forward by their common bonds and stretched her legs out on top of his, lying with her in sweat-drenched weakness, too tired to speak.

Presently, she moved to take the straps from their wrists and ankles. Now, in the afterglow, did his unfettered hands stroke her tenderly.‘I just thought we needed a little excitement,’ she said by way of explanation.

‘As things stand these days, we’re going to have to create it, ourselves.’

‘Then may we never make it home, Kathryn Janeway,’ he said, taking her in his arms again.

The End