Disclaimer: Paramount own them.
Claudia's Notes: This story takes place two years after "Endgame". The setting
is Tuscany in the summer, and we would like for you to imagine the sounds of
crickets, and -- according to the drabbles' titles -- the taste and smells.
Kirsten and I threw this together last Friday -- flying high from an overdose
of coffee and summer heat -- and at the Bon Jovi concert in Munich's Olympic
Park (complete with fireworks and thunderstorm).
Note: Bold words are the translated titles of the respective drabbles.
Dedication: For Fabie, who is hoping for the return of carefree days -- you're
not alone, love.
Rating: NC-17
Posted: 1July 01
Il Canto delle Cicade
Cricket Song
Girasoli
Having let herself in with the key from under the oleander pot, Kathryn walked up the gravel driveway to the house. It already was a hot day, and she was looking forward to getting rid of her uniform. Chakotay wasn't home yet, so she had time to put the ten sunflowers she'd brought him in a vase, put away the groceries from the market and freshen up.
This old Tuscan house with its green shutters and bleached tile-roof never failed to work its magic on Kathryn. Returning to Chakotay's house from an away mission meant coming home.
Just then, Chakotay opened the door.
Marmo
"Caterina, love."
She was halfway down the stairs, the marble cool beneath her bare feet, when Chakotay met her. He smelled of dust, sun and mustiness, and his lips tasted salty as he kissed her.
"Miss me?" she asked, her hand covering his crotch. Chakotay filed her mouth with a "Yes." Together they fumbled and tore his clothes off, and, sitting on the steps, Kathryn raised the hem of her dress. Chakotay kissed her breasts through the thin fabric. As he pulled down her panties, she dug her nails into his flesh. Finally joined, they found a passionate rhythm.
Origano
This sudden rush of passion on the stairs had left them hungry. Together they prepared a simple, light meal of pasta, tomatoes, cheese and pizza bread with origano -- or rather, Chakotay prepared it. Even now, Kathryn didn't enjoy cooking; she had settled for the dirty work, which left her plenty of time to dwell in the afterglow. As always, this short interlude had left her partly sated, but also hungry for more.
So she said, sipping her wine, watching him move around, wearing only his boxers and shirt. When he finally put the food on the table, she felt light-headed.
Caffè
Kathryn inhaled deeply as the scent of brewing coffee wafted through the kitchen. It was divine. Waiting for it to finish, she told Chakotay about their former crew-members.
"Miral's doing well. She keeps her parents busy." She smiled. "Tom's holonovel was a great success. He already works on a sequel. Doc and Seven are finally together."
Chakotay reached out an touched her hand. "And what about us, Kathryn?" he whispered.
She paused, putting down both peach and knife. Meeting Chakotay's eyes she felt it was time for her to give him the answer he had been waiting for for so long.
Bacio
The mixture of love, hope and uncertainty in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Suddenly the whole world centred on the man facing her. How could she have ever doubted that he was the right one for her? A powerful wave of love and desire surged through her. She leaned over the table, covering his face with tender kisses until she reached his mouth. He tasted delicious of peaches and coffee, smiling as he gave in to the gentle pressure of her lips.
"I love you," she whispered, slowly deepening the kiss. "I want to be with you."
Basilico
Before she could turn round, Chakotay had lifted her to sit on the table. His mug and a pot of basil lay shattered on the stone floor. Kathryn looked into the happiest face she'd ever seen -- and the most seductive.
Now, however, they took their time to explore and discover, nuzzling, licking, kissing their way about each others' body. They both sighed in relief when Chakotay slid into her. Before they settled into a lazy, loving rhythm, Chakotay pulled her dress over her head.
Eventually, with their movements more intense, their words changed from incoherence to groans and sighs --until it was over.
Sale
Later, they snuggled up against each other in the large, linen hammock hang in the silvery shade of the olive trees in Chakotay's garden.
Kathryn lay half on top of him, her fingers lazily drawing circles on his bare skin. He smelled divine of wood and salt, thus making her recall their passionate love-making once again. His hands gently caressed her back, making her purr.
Birdsong and the soothing chirping of the crickets was occasionally interrupted by their soft whispers of love.
Eventually, the peaceful atmosphere combined with emotional satisfaction made both drift into a deep and relaxing slumber.
Vino
Knowing that she returned that day from an away mission, Chakotay had reserved a table at their favourite restaurant in the Chianti hills. It was much cooler up there than in the Arno valley. They watched the sunset over a delicious meal, and a heavy red wine that was like liquid velvet on their tongues.
"Starfleet asked me to write a book about the Borg."
Chakotay flashed his dimples. "So it doesn't matter where you work."
"Not really." Kathryn sipped at her wine.
"Want to dance?" She grabbed his outstretched hand and followed him to the impromptu dance-floor. And they danced.
Lavanda
Kathryn sat astride Chakotay. His hands were above his head, tied to the bedposts with lavender-coloured silk scarves. She raked her nails gently, teasingly, over his chest and along the insides of his arms.
She delighted in his shivers, shifting and sighs. Occasionally, she bent to kiss him; once, sitting back, she guided him into her.
"Let me go."
Kathryn shook her head, hair flying, skin taut over her breasts. Again she bent to kiss him, nuzzle at his collarbones, teasing herself.
"Please."
"No." She gyrated her hips, rising, arching her back, accepting Chakotay's thrusts. She froze, then collapsed onto his chest.
Rugiada
Chakotay started at the lonely hoot of an owl. Carefully, so as not to wake Kathryn, he slipped out of bed and padded to the open window. Dew covered the garden. A pleasant, tangy breeze brushed over his naked body. Smiling, he turned to kneel in front of Kathryn.
Deeply asleep, she looked so beautiful and at peace that Chakotay felt as near to heaven as possible. Kathryn had finally made peace with herself and let him into her life. Now, she was going to stay with him, writing, kissing and helping him cook -- under a fleet of stars and cricket song.