Chapter Text
Chakotay doesn’t say anything about it once they leave the holodeck. After a week, Kathryn reviews the holodeck programs for personal likenesses again. There’s another with her likeness, Captain’s Classic Personal Program #10. For a moment, she’s startled, and then realizes that she doesn’t even know which role he programmed her into. For all she knows, it’s not the one she’s willing to play.
Still, when he comes to her ready room to remind her to eat dinner, she says, “I can’t yet, I have these holodeck reports to review.”
“You’ll see I have a slot scheduled for today at 2200. I hope I’m not monopolizing holodeck time.” Chakotay’s eyes are dark when he looks at her.
She waffles, considers asking him exactly how he has the program set up, and decides to say, “No, you deserve it.” She’ll make up her mind about what to do by 2200 hours.
In the end, she goes. When she walks into the holodeck, she enters an old-fashioned hotel room, not unlike the gilded 1920s-era hotels that Tom Paris is fond of programming. There’s a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a thick carpet on the floor. Chakotay is facing away from her, slowly undressing. His shoulders are rigid. She sees soft restraints and a blindfold on the bedside table. “Chakotay.”
He turns. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come,” he says.
Kathryn nods at the table. “The program didn’t say which role you’d programmed me into.”
Chakotay smiles a little ruefully. “I’m sorry, I thought it would be obvious.”
It is, now, though she’s still surprised at his choice of program. “Finish undressing and get on the bed,” she tells him, and he strips off the rest of his clothes and lies on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. She picks up one of the restraints. “You’re all right with being tied down?”
“Yes,” he says, and it’s a strange thing to say when he so obviously isn’t.
“No.”
“No?” He looks disappointed, but she thinks she sees relief too.
“I’m not going to restrain you,” she tells him. “You’re going to hold onto the headboard and you’re not going to let go unless I say you can. You’re going to keep your legs spread. And if you don’t, I’ll end the program.”
There, he likes that, he’s rapidly hardening and he lies back, grasps two rungs of the headboard. She watches in appreciation as he flexes. “Yes, Captain,” he says.
“Don’t ever tell me you want something you don’t,” and she lets the anger creep into her voice. “Ever.”
“No, never,” he promises.
“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” His throat bobs a little as he swallows, but he nods. “Good.” Kathryn starts gently, runs her hands over the breadth of his shoulders, across his chest, drags her fingernails a little through the hair there, rests her palm over his heart to feel his heartbeat speeding up. She curls her hands around his biceps and pulls to test the strength of his grip on the headboard.
“I’m not going to let go,” he says, and she strokes his cheek to watch the way that he turns into her touch. Then she slides her hands down along his sides, across his stomach, just to his cock. His breathing is getting faster too now.
“Good.” She opens the drawer of the bedside table and finds—among other things—a cock ring. She tests it to see how well it stretches, lets Chakotay see in case he’s going to protest, but he nods. She slides it on, down to the base of his cock, settles it behind his balls and then squeezes them very gently to watch his hips buck up. “You’re doing very well,” she tells him, and the way his eyes are fixed on her, she’s glad she didn’t ask about a blindfold. “Don’t come until I say you can.”
“I won’t,” he says, and his voice is very rough. “Kath—Captain—”
Kathryn digs her nails into his inner thighs. “I didn’t tell you to call me Kathryn.” His breath catches and his cock jumps a little. She squeezes his thighs to feel the muscle there, slides her hands down his calves and then back up to his knees to spread his legs wider. She hasn’t decided exactly what she wants to do with him yet, only knows that she loves seeing him pliant like this, vulnerable. “I saw a plug in the drawer,” she says. “Is that what you want? Me to open you up again, feel how tight you are around my fingers?”
“Anything you want. Anything—”
“That’s not what I asked,” she snaps.
“Yes—”
“Lift your hips, hold them up,” she says, and he obeys—it would be easier if she told him to roll over, but then she wouldn't get to watch every expression on his face. The way he looks when she retrieves the plug and lube and kneels between his legs, the way he gasps a little when she presses a dry fingertip just against his rim and he tries to work himself down onto it before she pulls her hand away. The way his thighs are shaking a little from holding himself up in this position. The way he moans with the first slick finger she pushes into him, his cock bobbing obscenely, untouched. She works him open faster than last time, a little rougher, until she’s sliding the fat plug into his ass and he gasps “Captain—”
“You’re doing so well,” she tells him, and she strokes the inside of his thigh. Even though it’s not the point of what she’s doing tonight, Kathryn can’t resist pushing the plug in and then pulling it out all the way a few times, until his whole body is trembling, and then she pushes it all the way in until it’s firmly inside him, only the base visible between his cheeks. “You can lower your hips now,” she says, and he lets out a breath and almost collapses back onto the bed. Kathryn surveys him and says, “You’re beautiful like this, you know,” and when he makes a noise in the back of his throat and meets her eyes, she realizes how wet she is, her underwear soaked through. “There are so many things I’d like to do,” and there really are, but they don’t have enough time here on the holodeck, not nearly enough.
She decides what to do and crawls up the bed toward him, careful to avoid touching his cock. His nipples are already hard, but she leans down and flicks her tongue against one, over and over, until he says “Captain—” and she closes her lips around it and sucks. She hears creaking and looks up to see how tightly he’s gripping the headboard, every muscle tensed, as he stares down at her. Kathryn releases that nipple and goes to the other. Really, the way he is now, she could do this anywhere on his skin and he’d still be begging “Captain—” in that soft voice of his. But she gets off the bed, goes to the bedside drawer again and picks out a set of nipple clamps. Gentle ones, the point is the sensation, not pain, and when she puts them on him one at a time, he cries out and thrusts up desperately into nothing. “Easy,” she tells him. “You’re doing so well, Chakotay.”
Kathryn trails her hands up to his collarbone, up his neck, until she’s holding his face in her hands and he’s staring up at her with wide eyes, and when he starts to say “Capt—” she leans down and kisses him. She hears a noise deep in his throat when she strokes her tongue against his, feels the way he’s flexing his arms hard to keep from releasing the headboard, and she wants to lock her hands around his wrists but she knows that would be the wrong choice. She pulls away an inch and says, “You’re so good,” and he lifts himself enough to kiss her again. Somehow that draws her back down to him and she runs her fingers through his hair, grips it and pulls just enough to position his head at exactly the angle she wants, and she feels it when he groans again.
This time when she breaks away, she pulls back far enough that he can’t follow. “Will you be all right if you close your eyes? Don’t lie to me.”
“Yes,” he pants. “Yes—as long as you don’t cover them with anything,” and it’s like he can’t keep his body still now, he’s so desperate for her to touch him again.
“Close your eyes,” she tells him, and he obeys. “Good. Tell me if you need to open them.”
“Yes, Captain,” and she sees him swallow. She begins to take her own clothes off and he must be able to hear what she’s doing, because he asks, “You’re not going to let me see you?” almost plaintively.
“When I’m ready.” She removes everything, climbs back onto the bed and straddles his chest just below the nipple clamps, flicks one with a fingernail and enjoys the noise he makes. She’s dripping wet, and when she begins to rub her clit, he must feel it and realize what he’s doing.
“Please—please let me see you,” and his voice cracks. “Please, Captain—” She closes her legs a little tighter around his ribcage, allows the moan to escape her at how good this feels, and he makes a strangled kind of noise and says “Please.”
“Open your eyes,” she tells him, and he stares wondrously at her, from her face to her breasts to her hand working between her thighs.
He says “Let me touch you—I’ll be so good—please—” and she stops rubbing her clit, brings two wet fingers to his mouth and he opens obediently, sucks them both clean, and oh how she wants to let him put his hands on her, or better, tell him to let go of the headboard and then move up to straddle his head, pull his head between her legs and ride his tongue—
But no, she’s not going to let him touch her, she slides her fingers out of his mouth, down his chin and throat and back to her clit and he groans at the sight, groans when she pushes two fingers inside herself and rubs her clit faster and says “Your cock would be much bigger, or even just your fingers—”
“Please,” he says again, and god his eyes are so dark, all pupil, and he’s still desperately holding onto the headboard, she really thinks he might break it.
“But I don’t need you for that, though,” she tells him and comes on her own fingers. The orgasm roars through her—she shudders with it, collapses forward, and he whimpers when her weight presses down against the nipple clamps. “Close your eyes again,” she tells him. Kathryn sits up and removes one of the clamps, contemplates, and then takes his nipple between two of her fingers and rubs until it’s slick. She replaces the clamp almost before he’s had time to register the change, but she sees it when he does, sees him shaking as she does it to the other nipple.
“Please—”
“Please what?”
“Please, Captain—” She feels him trying to thrust up again. “Let me—I don’t—” She’s not sure he’s capable of forming a sentence at this point.
Kathryn reaches back and brushes his cock with one hand, very lightly, and he reacts like he’s just been shocked. Before he can say anything, she says, “I want to ride your cock, but I’m not sure I can trust you not to come if I do.”
“You can, you can—I won’t—Captain—” She’s going to get wet every time he calls her captain outside of the holodeck, now, remembering the way he’s struggling against himself, and she’s glad she didn’t accept his lie and tie him down because this is so much better, watching him fight to make himself follow her orders.
“You’d better not,” she tells him. “Keep your eyes closed.” She slides down his body, avoiding his cock again, and grips the plug in his ass. She pulls it just enough that the widest part of it is spreading him open, watches him clench around it and says “I should keep you like this—plug in your ass, ring on your cock, your nipples clamped tight—keep you like this in the holodeck and come in to play with you whenever I want—”
“Yes,” he says, and it’s garbled, barely intelligible.
“Keep you hard, visit when I feel like it and ride your cock when I want to come and then leave you here again to wait for me while you beg me to let you come—maybe fuck your ass instead sometimes, whatever I want to do with you—”
“Please—I’m yours—” he says, and it triggers some fierce feeling of possessiveness that she didn’t realize existed.
She shoves the plug back in and moves up just enough to slide all the way onto his cock in a single motion and he yells, really does break the rail of the headboard but grasps another one instead. “Good, you’re so good,” she tells him. She clenches experimentally on his cock and he gasps in a breath; then she starts to fuck herself on it in long hard strokes. “Open your eyes.” He stares at her again, eyes bright, and she can’t help saying “You’re perfect,” and his whole body is shaking now with the effort of not letting himself come. “You’re perfect,” she says again, and then “You can come” so he doesn’t have to disobey her when he can’t stop himself. The sight of him as he does sends her over the edge and it’s incredible watching him—he still hasn’t let go of the headboard and his spine arches, he lets out a garbled kind of yell and she slams her hips back down, wants to pull him even deeper as her brain whites out for a second.
They’re both panting, bodies limp. Kathryn says, “You can let go now. Computer, delete toys,” and Chakotay makes a surprised kind of noise as they disappear. She lifts herself off of him, rolls to lie next to him, and strokes his cheek with her hand. It’s a little rough with stubble, and she likes the feeling of it. “How are your arms?”
He moves them experimentally, flexes his hands. “Probably stiff tomorrow. I was holding onto the headboard pretty hard.” She runs her fingers through his hair, over his lips, and he turns his head to catch her mouth in another kiss—much slower this time, almost high on endorphins—and brings his own hand to her cheek. Then he smiles. “It’s nice to be able to touch you now.”
Very carefully, she says, “I don’t understand why you lied about the restraints.”
“You knew it was a lie almost immediately.”
“Honestly? I almost didn’t come tonight because I knew the program included restraints and I’ve had enough of those in a very different context to last me a lifetime. I was surprised you chose this program at all.” Kathryn keeps running her fingers through his hair gently.
Chakotay lets out a long breath and meets her eyes. “I always—enjoyed this kind of thing. And still do, obviously. But this was the first time since becoming Maquis.” He says what they’re both thinking: “All the time I spent being taken prisoner and tortured was as a Maquis. I suppose I hoped it wouldn’t have changed anything. That when you tied me—that it wouldn’t bother me.”
“I have to be able to trust you,” she tells him. “I trust you outside the holodeck. Don’t lie to me here.” She strokes his neck.
“No,” he promises. “I won’t.” Then he leans forward and kisses her again.