PWP
a Ready Room Vignette
by
vanhunks
Rating:
PG-13
Disclaimer:
Paramount owns the characters. They're lovely to play with!
SUMMARY: A
short PWP piece set in the Captain's ready room. Kathryn has a blinding
headache, and who is her first officer to refuse aid?
NOTE: For those who wish to know: PWP stands for "Plot? What Plot?" In this story, however, the acronym gets a different meaning... My attempt at humour after some serious and intense writing.
*************
PWP
Kathryn Janeway decided that she had had enough
of staring at the main viewscreen for hours on end, seeing nothing, hearing
nothing and quietly allowing the headache that had been brewing since morning,
to gain impulse and then pitch into warp speed.
She wished that ten alien warships would fill
the screen, the lead ship hail her and the leader command she stand down
weapons. Whereupon she'd get up from the command chair, adopt her usual pose of
"catch me if you can" and then her headache would dissolve instantly
because finally, after seventy two days of flying at warp seven, staring at
nothing, something was happening.
In short, she was desperately in need of a
diversion.
Before the day was over, she was going to lose
what coffee she consumed at lunch time on an empty stomach, because already,
there was a queasy feeling building from the pit of her stomach that was heading
towards her throat. Kathryn twisted her head, craned her neck, even rubbed at
her temples, but no relief was in sight. Matters was made worse the second she
cast a glance at her first officer.
The man was gloating. That was not
a smile; that was not his 'I'll be by
your side forever' look. Quickly she looked at the main viewscreen again.
Wrong move.
Dead space. No sight. No sound. Just all pain in
the neck.
So, Kathryn Janeway did what all self-respecting
Captains of Starfleet did.
"Chakotay."
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"The bridge is yours."
"Aye, Captain." She was about to get
up from her chair when Chakotay gave her that dimpled, eyes-almost-closing, gloating
smile. "And don't you dare make any comment, Commander," she hissed.
Before anyone could blink, Kathryn Janeway
vanished through the doors and lost herself in the depths of her ready room.
Chakotay stared around him. Tom didn't look back
and smirk like he always did when Kathryn got up and dipped into the ready room.
Tuvok looked impassive. Seven of Nine looked impassive. B'Elanna smirked. Harry
looked...silly. He was staring at the viewscreen as if ten alien war ships would
appear and fill it any moment.
Chakotay's eyes returned to the empty seat
beside him.
Kathryn was mad at him, and thunderclouds were
forming above her head. If he looked closely enough when she was still in her
seat, he would have seen the smoke signals. Still, the lady was ill and all and
who was he to remind her again that she had two days off and refused to
take it? She could even wallow in the darkness of her cabin for the two days if
she wanted to, he told her. He was concerned, but couldn't help letting her see
that Common Sense should be a term in any Starfleet Captain's personal datapadd.
But as usual, Captain Janeway never listened.
So Chakotay did what any self-respecting
Starfleet First Officer was supposed to do in matters of...well, in the
circumstances. He rose from his seat, and when he reached Tuvok's station, said
calmly, "The bridge is yours," before he too, vanished into the depths
of the Captain's ready room, ready to rescue the Captain from whatever ailed
her.
It was a wonder that the woman actually said
"Come" when he pressed the chime.
Kathryn sat hunched in her high backed chair
when Chakotay entered. Fingers were rubbing temples, an expression of intense
irritation was on her face. The lady was really suffering and Chakotay had the
intense urge to massage her aching neck muscles. That thought was soon aborted.
He remembered once before when he did so and she calmly threw a few rules at
him. Mainly the rule said, "Do not touch me again, for I shall not know
myself then." To think that the ambience at the time warranted whatever
event would have followed the neck-rub action. At the time he had agreed to
Kathryn's demands and then he told her a cockamamie story about a warrior who
stayed by the princess's side and who never got to kiss the dead princess so her
eyes could come alive again.
But lo! Captain Janeway was suffering in her
ready room.
What was he to do? The lady looked at him
through pain-filled eyes, and he thought that any moment she would disgrace
herself in his presence by losing her coffee, or what was left after most of it
had been digested into her bloodstream and went directly to her head. That was
something he was not going to broach with her again, since the whole coffee
issue was what brought on the...biliousness and short-temperedness.
"Uh...Kathryn?"
"Have you come to gloat?"
"No. I've come to relieve you of your
headache."
"Chakotay," she said with a preceding
groan, "I can ask the EMH to hypospray the damned thing away."
"Uh...oh." Did the woman like to suffer in silence?
"What are you standing there like a statue?
Are you going to help me, or not?"
She peered up at him, squinting like she was in
real pain - she was in real pain - because
the lady had not thought to lower the illumination of the ready room. That at
least would have induced some comfort. But it was clear to Chakotay, whose eyes
lit up not on account of the light in the ready room, but the realisation that
the lady was asking him to offer help of the physical kind that he might just be
able to recreate the ambience of many moons and ten parameters ago.
Chakotay walked round the desk, took her hand
and pulled her up from the chair and walked with her to her grand couch. It was
a good sign. She was not protesting. There he made her sit down, sideways-like
and he positioned himself behind her. He thought that once before he had also
stood behind her in a manner of speaking, smelling her glorious hair and wanting
to bury his face in it. Then he had clasped her shoulders with his large, gentle
hands and massaged her muscles.
Now, she wanted him to do the same. So he did.
He smelled her glorious hair, didn't bury his face in it...yet. Kathryn gave a
moan of pleasure and he didn't know if it was because she wiggled herself
against him and made herself really comfortable. What was the woman thinking?
What was he thinking?
He was thinking that the time to take charge of
affairs and hold her right there against the broad cushion that was his chest,
was the way things should have been many moons and ten parameters ago.
"Chakotay, if - "
"Shhh..." he commanded as he gripped
her shoulders and began gently, rhythmically kneading into her tightened and
knotted muscles; on and on he kneaded, massaged, rubbed, his thumbs reaching
into the knots that dotted every spinal vertebra and pressing into them. Then he
pressed his thumbs against the knots formed at the base of her skull and Kathryn
gave a deep moan. Chakotay couldn't smile. It was too early to crow and he was
sensible to know that any moment she might do the many moons and ten parameters
thing. Kathryn snuggled closer into him as he pressed; she made those nice,
moaning sounds of pleasure and croaky moans that accompanied the pleasure
because the pain was nice and on its way out. He could feel the knots dissolving
under his ministering fingers and he could feel Kathryn leaning further and
further back into him.
He was the master of control.
"That feels so good, Chakotay," she
whispered softly and he was dead certain that one of two things might happen in
the next few seconds. She could turn round like she did that time, look like a
frightened faun because he was overstepping some boundary he didn't know could
exist until that moment, and he'd know he must stop, or, she could...well, he
just waited for the moment that she would turn round to face him and come hell
or high-water, he'd take whatever she was going to give him.
How was he to know that the next moment when she
did turn to look, that her eyes would indeed look wide, like a frightened faun?
Only, the faun part was there, and the frightened part was replaced by eyes that
had gone dark, and he could swear they were smouldering. That was not all. The
lady's lips were parted and he could feel her heat as she breathed.
Smoulder...heat... What was a man to do?
"Kathryn..." he groaned, still keeping
his hands where they were supposed to just in case she did remind him of those
boundaries.
"Chakotay..."
"Yes, Kathryn?"
She turned round completely and his hands left
the boundaries. Her eyelids looked suddenly heavy as they sheltered smoky eyes.
"I need some massaging...here..." she
murmured in a husky voice, pointing to her bosom.
Oh hell...
One parameter coming and going...
His hand came and settled against her breast. It
felt soft and firm at the same time. No more fantasies as they played out for
real. Kathryn breathed, and her heat fanned his face, inflaming him. He told
himself not to think as his hands travelled to her shoulders again and he pulled
her closer to him.
Beautiful red lips, hot and ready, waited for
him.
Chakotay closed his eyes and went for broke. His
lips touched hers and something exploded behind his closed eyelids. Did he just
see a supernova? It went bright, brilliant colours lighting up the thick, black
expanse that was all his dashed hopes and broken dreams. Her lips tasted -
actually tasted -
sweet, like wild honey sprung from a tree on
dewy mornings, flavoured with incidental mixes of cinnamon and musk. Musk? Oh
hell...
"Chakotay..." she breathed again
against his lips. Then suddenly, her lips left his and he felt old, oddly
robbed, only to be intensely pleasured the next moment when gentle hands cupped
the sides of his head and hot, intoxicating honey-cinnamon flavoured lips burned
against his tattoo, pressed searingly in the centre of his forehead and then a
third kiss on the other side, just over his right brow.
He thought he was drunk. Maybe he was, if
drinking honey-cinnamon could induce inebriation. There were three more
supernovas in quick succession. His hands searched for her breasts while his
lips found hers again, unerringly, and groaning his ecstasy, plunged into her
depths when Kathryn allowed him entry.
More honey...
Hands tangled into her hair, pulling her head
gently back to expose her neck.
Oh, hell...
He pulled her jacket open, hooked his fingers
into her turtleneck and the next moment he heard her give a soft cry as his lips
burned into her neck, sucking, brushing. He became greedy, their movements
frenzied; her arched neck was... Groaning, he sucked into her turtleneck collar,
feeling still the heat of her skin through it. Teeth grazed, lips teased...
Thirst and hunger were difficult to appease as both ate and nipped at each
other; their breath mingled, tongues lashing in a pas de deux of love. Waves of
pleasure ripped through him; he was tossed about on a sea of desire, for
Kathryn...Kathryn was destroying her own boundaries...
He pressed her so that she lay back on the couch
and he spread himself over her. He thought dazedly that about seven parameters
had come and gone as his hands slipped under her turtleneck and cupped her
breasts.
"Oh, more...more..." she crooned,
tossing her head sweetly, overcome by the heady breathlessness of his fingers
that dipped under the bra and found nipples ready and waiting. His tongue dipped
into her navel and a royal wave of pleasure shot through his body as Kathryn
arched into him.
"More...?"
She sat up suddenly. Her eyes looked on fire.
Blue-grey ice that burned from the top of a blue-grey snow-capped mountain. Her
lips were parted, smudged, burning, moist. Her face was flushed. He reckoned he
didn't look much better as be breathed heavily, managed only through sustained
gasps to bring his raging arousal down and cool the fire temporarily.
"Chakotay... we have two more hours bridge
duty," she purred.
"What about uh...our parameters?"
Chakotay asked, knowing that they've already broken a few. "You know what
we decided on many moons ago on uh...New Earth..."
Kathryn frowned beautifully.
"Parameters? What parameters?"
That was when Chakotay knew the lady was his
forever.
"Uh...dinner, my quarters," he
croaked. It was time he took charge and Kathryn served under him. Parameters be
damned. She said so herself. The noise of freedom buzzed in his head.
"I'm ready...your room...two hours from
now, Chakotay."
Her burning eyes shot aflame. She really
looked...ready...for his room.
Kathryn rose to her feet and he jumped up too.
Seconds later they brushed down their uniforms, brushed fingers through hair to
look tidy and unkissed and once more.
Kathryn looked at Chakotay and gave a little
smile, lifted her left eyebrow.
"Are you certain you're ready for bridge
duty, Commander?"
Did she know something he didn't know?
"I am," he responded firmly.
"I have a bits and pieces of headache left
- "
"In my room. Ready?"
" - which can only be dissolved if I
serve...er...under you."
He was about to become aroused just by the
suggestion and tone of her voice. But the moment Kathryn raised that eyebrow
again, Chakotay frowned. However,
happiness was ten supernovas that blinded him.
"Of course. I'll go first."
"After you, Commander," Kathryn said,
waving her hand with a flourish and smiling suggestively.
****
Chakotay tried to walk like he didn't almost
have sex with the Captain in her ready room. His pants were smoothed down; he
had run his hands through his hair and thought it must look presentable. Then he
pranced past Tuvok, nodded at Seven of Nine standing hands on the rail behind
the command chairs, and grinned evilly at Tom who turned a full three hundred
and sixty degrees to look at him. Then Tom swivelled his chair back to face the
viewscreen.
Chakotay sat down and rested his hands on the
armrests of his chair, feeling smug. He looked straight ahead at the dead
nothing that showed on the main viewscreen.
Tom Paris did a double take; his eyes popped.
Harry Kim snickered.
B'Elanna grinned.
"What?"
"Oh...nothing, Commander," Tom said as
he busied himself again at the conn.
A minute later the ready room door opened and
Kathryn came out, covering the two steps to Tuvok's level with sprightly ease.
Tuvok looked, then turned to study the Great Nothingness out there. Kathryn
paused briefly. He was the master of pokerfaced study. Kathryn smoothed down her
uniform once more and sat down next to Chakotay. She looked blissful.
Tom Paris turned to look back at them, busied
himself at the conn for one second then did another double take.
"What?" Kathryn Janeway asked.
"Oh...nothing, Ensign."
Ensign? Kathryn frowned.
One minute later.
"Chakotay, why are they staring at
us?"
"You noticed? It's discomfiting. I'm
crawling in my skin here."
Several minutes, pointed glances in their
direction and some chuckling later.
"Kathryn, why are you looking at me from a
different angle than normal?"
The lady turned to face him, smiled with that
nice upturned corner of her mouth and covered his hand like she was offering
comfort and telling him her headache was almost something of the past, thanks to
his ministrations that would be continued later in his quarters.
"Why, Chakotay, it's because you're sitting
in my chair, and there are three pairs of lipstick marks on your forehead. Nice
and symmetrical, too. And such a nice colour of strawberry..."
"I saw four
supernovas...uh...Captain..." Harry reported.
Chakotay shot up from the Captain's chair,
pulled her up and forgot about the lipstick marks he was supposed to brush away
in furious embarrassment. He was about to exchange seats with her when he froze.
Something was missing from the Captain's person; he couldn't figure out what it
was. Chakotay scratched his head, looked around the bridge, saw the knowing
smirks coming from Seven of all Borgs, Tom Paris, even Tuvok, the master of
expressionless study. Harry continued to look excited and pointed to the
viewscreen.
"We thought you'd have noticed that ten
minutes ago, Captain," came Tom Paris's voice which
sounded like he was laughing at them.
"The Captain has been demoted to
Ensign," Seven of Nine declared.
"And booked herself the wrong command
chair."
"What?"
Kathryn's hand flew to her neck. Her eyes
popped. Chakotay stared, and his eyes popped. He felt suddenly nauseous, then
groaned and clutched at his stomach.
"Uh...Kathryn..."
"What?"
"It seems I have swallowed three of your
rank pips..."
****
END