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Title: The First Moment
Author: Ky
Category: Smuuuuuuut!
Summary: The fact that he blew his ship up to save
hers? Just made her life easier.
A/N: I wanted to read a fic like this, but could never find one. Figured I'd just save
myself the effort and write it myself.
Date: 03/03/06
***
Her uniform pants are around her ankles, tangled
in her high boots. Her jacket, shirt, tank top and bra are limiting the movement in her arms, dangerously pushed up around
her neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough for the threat to be in the forefront of her mind.
The sound of her blood
pumping through her veins is loud, racing to the beat of her heart, matching the rhythm of his movements.
It's been
a long time since anyone other than Mark - whom she does not spare a thought for - has done this to her - and certainly never
someone quite this well-endowed.
There is a sharp tugging of her muscles, a delicious pull on her internal flesh
that accompanies the feeling of being full - she cannot imagine being with him had there been a period of abstinence involved.
Her nipples are protruding at painful attention, the recycled coolness of the ready room is harsh on them. As he is
on her.
There will be bruises, later, on her hips. Coloured indentations of his fingertips will mar her white skin
for days. Teeth marks on her breasts. Tenderness between her legs.
She is surprised that she is enjoying this.
Kathryn
refuses to call herself a martyr, but she knows that the only reason this man in being allowed to thrust into her is because
she needs him. Him and his crew.
He had all but said yes to her offer, but there was still a hint of indecisiveness
lurking in his deep brown eyes and beneath his calm features. She didn't have the luxury of negotiating her position with
him. She needed him to say yes, no questions asked. This, she tells herself, is just enough to sweeten the deal.
One
of them is gasping, tiny echoes of pleasure punctuating the room, accompanied by the sound of their harsh breathing and the
slap of flesh meeting flesh. It's not until she opens her eyes and looks at him that Kathryn realizes the noises are coming
from her. He is smiling, almost tenderly, at her.
The hostile man that had beamed on to her bridge earlier the previous
day turned out to be a surprisingly gentle soul.
Sparks had shot off where they touched - her hand on his chest -
only moments after first meeting. The fury that had initially been in his eyes as he had materialized, phaser drawn, had dissipated
as he'd looked at her. She knew that he had felt the pull of attraction - or the desire to just fuck her brains out and be
done with it, perhaps - and she had used that to her advantage.
She was a tactile person, after all, and those on
the crew that had known her since before Voyager knew that. There was nothing odd about how she treated the terrorist that
she had 'captured.'
Voyager's new First Officer - if this doesn't get her a yes, she is prepared to shoot him
on the grounds of stupidity - gives a particularly hard thrust into her, his body grinding into hers.
The sharp stab
of pleasure distracts her and whatever Kathryn was thinking about dissipates in a cloud of lust. She watches the intense concentration
on his features - God, he's gorgeous! - and finds herself pushing into the powerful body between her thighs, desperate to
quell the ache that swirls within her.
He had worked by her side the whole time that they were on Ocompa and therein
after, with the same diligence that he uses now, all evidence of his anger forgotten as he focused solely on the safe return
of his friend.
Tunnel Vision, she had thought at the time. One goal that his mind had grasped and held on to,
refusing to let go until the task had been completed. An admiral quality.
The second that she had realized their chances
of getting home via the same Caretaker that had brought them here were slim, she had begun to form a plan.
Voyager
needed crewmen, many more than she had at her disposal after the casualty list had been put together. The Maquis, despite
their slightly misguided politics, were good people. Hard workers. She would need them to survive. Need them to get home.
The
fact that he blew his ship up to save hers? Just made her life easier.
Offering him a key position on her crew had
been the only logical choice, as Tuvok had said. They needed to unite their crews - with her as the Captain - and their only
chance of success lied within a show of solidarity.
'First Officer', she had said. 'and all of the responsibilities
and respect that go with the job title.'
He hadn't responded directly, merely requested that his crew be treated fairly
and not like some kind of second-class citizens. That they be given a fair chance. He had skilled people working for him,
she needed those skills. They both knew that, but his softly spoken request still surprised her.
Perhaps, she considers,
that focus and gentleness is exactly the reason that she is not surprised to find two of his fingers expertly manipulating
her clit in complete contrast to his harsh strokes.
That first moment on the Bridge, touching him... she had known
that it would end - or begin, depending on how you looked at it - with them, like this. If it helps to secure a way across
this God Forsaken Quadrant for her innocent crew, then more's the better.
Kathryn is not bartering her body for her
crew. She is not a whore. She is taking advantage of an opportunity that has presented itself. Making the best of a bad situation
and making it work towards her advantage.
Starfleet Command would be so proud, she thinks as she comes.
***
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