Kathryn couldn't find back to sleep, even now that her body had recovered from the assault of her mind's sensuous tricks. The beads of perspiration that had covered her half-naked body in its gentle sheen had gone, and with it the stars he had painted on her body.

He. There he was again. It was always him who'd come to her dreams, and do the most delicious things to her body and mind. The worst thing was that he was so gentle and so loving and that she enjoyed it so much albeit she was dreaming of something she'd never allow herself to get. It wasn't proper, and yet did she pray every night that her sleep be blessed with his presence again. Those dreams were scarce, but she loved them. Yes, she loved them, despite they were impure, and she had to be pure, her name alone demanded it. Kathryn meant *she who is pure*.

She wasn't. She was having the most arousing and sexy dreams about her First Officer. But it happened only in her dreams. She couldn't help dreaming the way she did, now could she? What a cheap absolution this was. Subconsciously, she let her hands slide over the silky fabric of her peach-colored nightgown. She liked the way her body felt beneath the fabric. In her writhing in her dream her gown had slid up to her navel, and Kathryn shuddered when she feathered a caress across the skin there. It felt soft and smooth, yet a little bit damp and sticky. When she drew up her knees and the sheet fell down to the ground, she felt cool between her legs. The cool air in her sleeping-quarters was kissing the dampness of her crotch. Suppressing a soft moan she closed her eyes.

Once again she saw his face hover above her body, she felt his big tan hands touch every inch of her hyper-sensitive skin that was exposed to the sheltering darkness. Kathryn rolled over, trying to shut him out from her thoughts. It was hard enough for her that he came to her in her dreams. She decided then that she needed a hot shower to purify herself, to wash any waking dreams away. She got up from her rumpled bed with feline grace. When Kathryn pulled her nightgown over her head, its fabric reminded her of how aroused she still was. Her nipples were still -- or yet again -- erect and seeking attention.

"Here, let me help you," his soft voice offered from behind her. He let her nightgown drop to the ground in a silky pool and closed the remaining space between them. He steeped up from behind her and cupped her breasts with his hands. At the instant his tan hands made contact with her porcelain skin and her cheeky nipples, Kathryn's knees buckled. A throaty sound escaped from between her lips, almost sounding like a sob. Yet she leaned back into his broad smooth chest and let the rise and fall of him remind her to breathe. Kathryn raised her arms high above her head to grant Chakotay full access to her body. Her hands found the back of his head and pulled him gently to the nape of her neck so he could nuzzle her skin there.

Chakotay followed her invitation and let his hands slide down her naked skin, his fingers caressing each of her ribs, feathering over her ticklish navel, touching her painfully protruding hip bones. "Kathryn, you sure need to eat more," he whispered in her ear, gently nibbling at her earlobe.

"Feed me then," she moaned. Kathryn turned in his embrace, molding her body into his. He felt so warm, so alive, so strong. And yet he was the most gentle lover she'd ever enjoyed being with. At first she'd thought he'd crush her beneath his broad frame, but then he'd taught her otherwise. Never before had a lover's weight been sweeter and cradled better between her legs than his. Kathryn rose on her toes and kissed him, kissed him like she'd do in her dreams. God, his lips were so full, so soft, so ticklish, and once her tongue found its way past the sharp edges of his teeth they'd join their tongues in a teasing, seducing and lover dance. His hands found their way beneath the fabric of her fleet issue panties, cupping her buttocks, and squeezing them gently. Hers instead raked their nails gently across the smooth bronze skin of his back, trailing their way down the valley of his spine.

"Here, my love, try some of these," Chakotay murmured into her mouth. Somehow he'd managed to produce a bowl of strawberries from somewhere. Now he was tracing the outlines of her lips with the tip of the strawberry. Then he let her take a bite of it, the other half disappeared between his lips. He repeated this two or three times.

"You don't happen to have some cream, do you?" she asked breathless. She wrapped her left leg around his and felt the fine hears on his caress her skin. By now she could feel his arousal press hard into her belly. How she was craving for feeling him fill her again! She moved even closer to him. When she wanted to kiss him again, he stopped her by putting a finger against her lips. His finger was covered in white whipped cream, and while she lapped at the white nothingness like a cat she locked her eyes on his dark eyes. They were even darker now than usual, almost black with desire.

"Kathryn," he sighed, drawing his creamy fingers across her cheek as if to apply warpaint, just so he could kiss and lick it away again.

"What a mess we are," Kathryn purred, pulling him toward the shower, kissing a strawberry stain away from his collarbone. A matter of seconds later hot water was pouring down on them, and brought Kathryn back from her sexy reverie for a moment. The water matted her hair against her head like a second skin, massaging her skin, the drops a replacement for Chakotay's fingertips. He was everywhere around her now. She bent her head back and closed her eyes, pretending the jets were his full lips that were assaulting her throat now, kissing their way down to the indentation where her collarbones met. The taste of his salty skin, the strawberries and the cream were still lingering in her mouth.

Chakotay wasn't back now, but he was inside her. Inside her mind, making her move her hands across her body as if they were his. They teased her nipples, the dark sensitive halos around them, the soft skin of her breasts. Other jets were caressing her stomach, pooling in her navel until a narrow rivulet escaped from it, leading one of her hands all the way down to her aching center. Her fingers found their way expertly through the delta of curls, and her ecstatic cry at the first touch proved how much she was aching for him. With the jets still kissing her face, caressing her skin and massaging her breasts, the fingers of his mind brought her the joy of the release she needed so much. Still shuddering under the waves of the pleasure of her climax, Kathryn slipped down the wall of her shower.

For a while she sat there, hugging her knees and enjoying the slowing down of the throbbing between her legs. At the same time her body was shaking with sobs of frustration, she almost choked on her sobs. She just couldn't believe that she'd just made this up. But she couldn't make love to him, she just couldn't, in spite of her wanting it so much. With a cry of frustration she rested her head against the wall, letting the jets that had just been Chakotay's tender lips wash her tears away.

"Oh Chakotay, if only you knew," she sobbed. It took her quite some time to calm down. Until then she was soaked to her bones. Kathryn wrapped herself in her fluffy bathrobe and put on a pair of thick woolen socks. On the way to her living-room she passed her rumpled bed. It looked as if two lovers had just enjoyed each other in it, had given and received pleasure until the tension of their bodies had been released in joined joy. How could she go back to sleep in it? She suppressed her tears, replicated a mug of hot coffee and curled up on her sofa. This was going to be a long night.

Back
The JetCafé