Chapter Text
Kathryn values honesty. It’s why she and Tuvok have always worked together so well—aside from the incident with the Sikarans, she’s always known that he’ll be honest with her, with a general disregard for how it might affect her emotionally. Right now, though, Kathryn has the uncomfortable sense that maybe she’s not being entirely honest with herself. Because she has a message from Chakotay on her padd and an unopened holodeck schedule file and she has a thousand other things to do but all she can think about is that message.
“Oh hell,” she says, and opens the message. It’s perfunctory, a reminder that it’s her turn to review the schedule. He’s blocked off—strange, he’s blocked off multiple hours in a row, she can’t imagine how he managed to do it. She doesn’t recognize the outlines of the program code either—it appears to be multiple different programs, patched together and merged here and there—but she recognizes the code that signifies her likeness well enough, and that means he wants her there.
There’s something familiar about the surroundings when she walks into the holodeck, and her breath catches when she realizes what it is. This is—the forest on New Earth. There’s the river she always regarded with some trepidation, and there beside it is Chakotay, kneeling next to an upturned wooden canoe. “Kathryn,” he says, and waves at her.
She walks over, a little disbelieving. When she crouches to pick up one of the wooden oars, it’s damp and cool in her hand. “The boat.”
“We never got to go on that camping trip.” His voice cautious, almost hesitant. “I thought it might be a good time to explore the river."
Kathryn still remembers how her hands had been covered in dirt when he showed her the diagram, how she’d wanted to touch the screen and make suggestions but the comm traffic had come through. “Why not,” she says. “I’m trusting your boat-building skills, Chakotay. If I drown in a holodeck river, I’ll be very unhappy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Here, help me get it to the river.”
The boat is lighter than she expects. “Are you sure this is solid?”
The dimple appears in his cheek. “Not in the least. It’s only photons and force fields.” He pretends to fumble his end and then laughs at her gasp of outrage.
“I would smack you with an oar if I could reach one,” Kathryn says, and Chakotay raises an eyebrow at her before guiding the boat gently into the water.
“See, it floats,” he says. “We’re off to a good start.”
She can’t help laughing. “Now what?”
Chakotay wades into the river a little and holds the boat steady. “Now you get in.” It’s a splashing scramble to get into the boat without tipping it over, even with Chakotay holding the edge firmly. He passes her the oars and then scrambles in himself. For a moment, they’re very close and the sun is almost dazzling in her eyes—but then Chakotay sits back without so much as stealing a kiss and takes one of the oars. “Push off gently,” he says.
They scrape their paddles across the shallow river’s edge as they edge slowly into the center of the river, where the current catches them. The trees are tall and mossy around them, the sun shining down. There’s a screech, and then another screech, very close by, and—“oh!” A primate has leapt from the riverbank to crouch in the front of the canoe. “Hello there,” Kathryn says, offering her hand, and this time the primate gives a slightly friendlier screech before turning its back on her to watch the river.
“I still don’t think you could domesticate one very easily,” Chakotay says. He’s seated behind Kathryn, but he slides forward a little, lets her scoot back until she’s leaning against his chest. She can feel each deep breath he takes, the warmth of his breath when he exhales against her neck.
“Do you think he’ll be our guide?” she asks. “We don’t exactly have—charts of the river or other navigational tools. Or—anything, really.”
“I brought a pack with what we’ll need,” Chakotay says into her ear. When she turns her head, she sees a worn rucksack tucked into the back. Chakotay leans forward just a little and catches her mouth with his own before she can turn her head forward again. He rests one hand lightly on her cheek as they kiss, tongues lazy, until the boat rocks and she has to stifle a slight shriek. She breaks away and looks forward.
The river is running faster now, the tall trees replaced with high banks and scrub brush. “Chakotay,” she says, “exactly how much do you know about this river?”
The boat jolts a little and Chakotay grabs both sides. “It should be—safe,” he yells. The noise of the river is increasing.
“How do you define safe?” There’s mist hanging over the river ahead, mist that looks suspiciously like the top of a waterfall.
“It’s a setting on the holodeck protocols! Safe!” They’re narrowly avoiding large rocks now, water splashing up over the edges of the boat as they rock.
“That is not a setting!” Their primate guide shrieks and Chakotay clutches Kathryn tight against him as the boat shoots out across the top of the waterfall—
and lands in calm waters only a meter or two down.
Kathryn tries to slow her pounding heart as the boat drifts lazily away from the waterfall. They’re both soaking wet now. The sun is growing low on the horizon, and if there’s one thing that she remembers from their time on New Earth, it’s that darkness—and cold—come very quickly. Chakotay must know it too, because he calls, “We should look for somewhere to put in for the night!”
The primate is screeching and pointing up ahead. “Chakotay! It looks like a cabin!”
“What, you don’t want to camp?” Chakotay is already steering them toward the river bank. There isn’t exactly a dock, but some logs are piled and bound along the side of the river bank. With a lot of banging (and swearing) and more splashing, they manage to get close enough that Chakotay can jump out with a rope and pull the boat up out of the water. Kathryn climbs out as soon as they’re into shallow waters, shivering a little, the pack slung over one shoulder. “Help me tie the boat up,” Chakotay says, and there are a few long chilly moments during which they drag the boat further out of the water and lash it to the wooden piling.
Kathryn’s fingers are cold enough that they don’t work as well as they should. “This is a little more like the camping I used to do!”
“What, the camping you hated?” She catches the quick flash of Chakotay’s teeth in a smile as he finishes tying off the last knot. “I’m not sure you’ll want to use this river as your bathtub.”
“Come on,” Kathryn says. “Let’s see what’s inside the cabin.” Their primate friend has already bounded ahead and is climbing up onto the roof. Chakotay offers her a hand up the uneven path and they go to investigate.
The door is made of neatly-planed wood, its hinges suspiciously similar to those on the doors of their old modular home. The cabin itself is tightly built of wooden logs, each corner meticulously joined to keep out any draft. When Kathryn turns on the camp lantern, she sees that it’s a single large room, with one door that she suspects leads to a bathroom. “I’ll get a fire going,” Chakotay says.
Kathryn says nothing. Some of the furniture is familiar, the same as what they had in the modular home, but there’s a large sofa draped with fraying quilts, and a single large bed, with the headboard that she remembers watching him make for her. Her throat is very tight. “This is the cabin you were going to build?” she asks. It’s hard to get the words out.
Chakotay looks up sharply from where he’s arranged logs in the fireplace—a modern thing, the frame coated in a special heat-reflective polymer. The flicker of firelight plays across his face and makes his tattoo look like it’s moving. “Not quite,” he says, and his voice is rough. “I said we would be able to add more rooms, remember?”
She turns slowly, lifting the light. “But something like this.”
“Yes,” he admits—and why should she think of it as an admission? That Chakotay has—has carefully patched together different holoprograms, has re-created the world they shared and is sharing it again with her now? Is he—
Fortunately, Kathryn shivers dramatically at that moment and realizes that she’s dripping on the floor. “I suppose I should—”
“Yes,” he says. “The fire will—warm the place up, soon. We can dry the clothes overnight.”
She undresses quickly, at first, kicking off her boots and wet socks, and then feels Chakotay’s eyes on her. Kathryn meets his eyes and slows down—she didn’t realize until now, but the holodeck has her wearing the old shirt of his that she used to wear when she was out in the woods. It’s clinging to her skin and she takes the buttons one at a time. Chakotay’s eyes are greedy for each little bit of skin she reveals as she undoes them, and she can feel the fire starting to warm her by the time she reaches the last button. Kathryn slips out of the shirt gradually, lets it slide across her skin and leave a damp trail as Chakotay watches. She sees him flex his hands and clench them—unconsciously—and she drapes the wet shirt over the back of a chair. The pants have a button-fly, and she pops the buttons open slowly, a tiny noise that echoes nevertheless as Chakotay watches. When she slides the final one through the buttonhole and eases the pants down over her hips, she hears the breath catch in his throat. “You must be cold in those clothes,” she points out, and her voice is raspy.
“I suppose so,” Chakotay says. He wrestles his own shirt off over his head in a single motion, barely breaking his gaze on her, and she admires the way his damp chest almost glows in the light of the fire. He strips off his pants quickly too, discards them on the floor with his shirt, until he’s wearing nothing but his thin briefs. She can see the outline of his cock clearly through the fabric.
Kathryn walks slowly toward the fire in her bra and underwear, damp for an entirely different reason. She flicks open the catch of her bra behind her back so that it loosens, but doesn’t slide the straps off her shoulders yet. “You built this cabin for us.”
He reaches out and slips the bra down her arms, then cups her breasts in both hands, letting his thumbs brush her nipples, stiff in the chill. “I would have,” he breathes, and his hands are hot on her skin.
Kathryn swallows the noise she wants to make at the feeling of his hands and instead touches his cheek. “You would have built the cabin for us,” she repeats, and oh she can’t help but jump when he drops one hand to the waist of her underwear and slips it inside, teasing his fingers over her without actually touching. She spreads her legs a little almost unconsciously, but he doesn’t take the invitation.
“I would have,” he agrees, and slides his hand around to grip her ass and pull her tight against him. His cock is hot and hard beneath the chill damp of his underwear, and she’s suddenly frantic to get it off of him, to get her hands on his bare skin. He hisses when she does.
“Where did you imagine us?” Kathryn asks. Her lips are a breath away from his as she presses her soft stomach against his cock and feels it twitch a little. “Where did you want—”
“The bed,” Chakotay says, as though it’s an embarrassing thing to admit, and suddenly he’s swept her into a—bridal carry. She likes to think of herself as unflappable, but she shrieks at the surprise of it, and again when he lays her out on the bed. He drags her underwear off as he lifts his hand away and Kathryn can’t help canting her hips up toward him, desperate for the touch of his fingers or his tongue between her legs. When Chakotay climbs onto the bed too, he sheds the last of his clothing and then they’re tangled naked together, the fire crackling a few feet away.
“It’s a good cabin,” Kathryn says, and then she can’t help kissing him, losing herself in his mouth as his hands roam across her skin. When she pulls away to catch a breath, he leans down to suck one of her nipples between his lips and she clasps her hand tightly against the back of his head. His tongue is wondrous, the way he flicks it across her nipple, and when he glances up and catches her watching in frank admiration, he smiles against her breast.
“Tell me what you want, Kathryn,” he says, and usually she would know, she would know what to tell him to do, but all she can say is “Touch me—”
“Always.” He breathes it against the space between her breasts, drops his hand between her legs again and traces across the hair there, over her clit and her entrance without ever dipping down to the skin, and it’s only when she makes a frantic kind of noise that he touches his fingertip directly to her clit. It shouldn’t feel this intense, but it does, she grips his shoulder tight and spreads her legs wantonly, tries to press up against his finger to get more friction.
Kathryn kisses him, hard and urgent, none of the laziness of before, lets the slick slide of her tongue against his tell him what more she wants. He almost shudders against her as she does, murmurs her name against her lips before he slides down her body to between her legs and licks her clit in a long, firm stroke, eyes fixed on hers. Kathryn is mesmerized by his eyes as he watches her, at the same time that he works her higher and higher, the pressure of his tongue perfect against her. He never looks away, only breathes faster as she does, as her hips move restlessly beneath him, as she slides her fingers through his hair but doesn’t press his head down. When she comes, clenching around nothing, his eyes are fixed on her face and he licks her through it, through the whimpering little noises that she can’t swallow back, through the moment when she says “Chakotay” and reaches down to brush her fingers across his tattoo—and she comes again then, spine arching, other hand slamming back against the headboard to find anything to grasp.
His gaze is inexorable, unending, as he moves back up her body and slides inside slowly—her muscles flutter as he does and he makes a choked-off noise like he’s been electrocuted. Chakotay never takes his eyes from hers as he finally fills her completely, as he rocks against her body with little thrusts that are almost too much, until she urges him faster, deeper. His eyes are wide, almost wondering, and when he comes he cries out “Kathryn” and finally breaks eye contact to kiss her neck as he pulses inside her.
She’s reluctant to let him go, holding him there with her legs wrapped around his hips and clenching around his softening cock until he drags in a ragged breath, almost shaking, and she releases him. When he falls back against the pillow, chest heaving, Kathryn lays a possessive arm across his chest and feels his heart pounding in his ribcage. He turns his head toward her and Kathryn presses her forehead against his.
“You made this for us.”
He smiles wearily. “It made it easier to say.”
She tightens her arm. “It’s more than I can—”
“I know, Kathryn. It’ll be here when you can.”
She presses her forehead harder against his until it’s almost painful, like if she clings to him enough, she can simplify everything. “I want to stay,” she tells him, and it costs her almost everything to say even that.
Chakotay adjusts their positions until he’s curled against her back, one arm around her ribcage so he can lay his hand over her heart. “I’ll be here,” he tells her, and kisses the back of her neck.