Offworld
by Jennifer Ferris

Author's Note: Comments and crit to kevas@aol.com. Rated "R" to be on the safe side.

~*~

We'd been so careful to respect each other's privacy. This wasn't New Earth, where we could dictate our own terms, or not, as we chose.

This was the Frengelli homeworld, and Voyager was privileged to be allowed to stop in her skies. We were privileged to be allowed to send down a small shore party. I beamed down two days ago to begin negotiations. Chakotay is here to secure trade goods, information, whatever we can get. Tuvok came down one day before me, running every security scan he could devise, doing a preliminary investigation, all with the dignity he brings to any endeavor. They welcomed him. Us. They were open and warm. Not effusive. Their welcome was more restrained than that. But they tend not to hide a lot here. That is their grace and their strength. We'd heard about their world before we arrived. They're known for their gracious hospitality--if you accept it on their terms. So we did.

They were very willing when we said we wanted to talk. It was only when I mentioned that we'd like to beam down and perhaps secure trade and shore leave, that that tiny, amused expression appeared on the emissary's face. People tend to study your face here a lot, I've found. There's a certain respect awarded each individual, more perhaps than I'm used to seeing even on federation worlds. And no crowds. People on this world tend to not gather in large groups. You meet with trusted associates, or you discuss anything of import over the vidscreen, but you don't just run around the streets. It isn't done. There's a certain gravity, a dignity, to this place.

The thing is, these people believe in that dignity. They clothe themselves in it. And that's all they clothe themselves in. They are offended by the very idea of our uniforms, the sameness, the anonymity, the manufactured identities inherent in those scraps of fabric. We would never have been allowed to visit here if we were clothed. Or, for that matter, if we displayed disrespect, wanton behavior, any of that. They take themselves seriously. They take each other seriously. That included us--if we were willing to play by their rules. We'd gathered that much data from our conversations with them, before Tuvok even beamed down.

Well. It's a mission. I've seen stranger ones. We didn't have to parade around the ship, or even the transporter room, naked. There were chambers at the beam-down site provided for that purpose. The Frengelli aren't naïve. They know their customs are different from that of many other worlds, and they have many visitors. But those visitors are usually restricted to the offworld enclave, the hotels alongside the spaceport, the expensive shops. If we wanted to visit anywhere else...well. As I said. When in Rome...

That shouldn't have been too difficult. This is a beautiful place. A little too hot for my taste, but Chakotay said it sounded wonderful to him. He's used to a warmer, dryer climate than I am. And the citizens here seem to exude a... serenity, I guess. It's very soothing.

I didn't beam down with Chakotay, of course. I was alone. We each had matters to attend to. I was discussing our journey with one of their ministers, perhaps trading my story for a little goodwill on their part. People are very interested in our travels. Chakotay's been overseeing the restock, working with Yamaguchi and Torres. They've been on the comm half the morning, or so I gather.

I was finding my way back, through the cool gardens, to the cottage I'd been assigned as temporary quarters. There was never anyone around, at least not that I'd seen in the two days since I beamed down. I'd been in and out of this garden a dozen times. It was mine, for as long as I was here. There were other cottages, but there were also other paths. I didn't expect to see anybody.

I hadn't seen him at all on this planet. Until now. I turned down the path, hesitantly touching the flowers that grew heavy beside the path, and I looked up, and there he was.

We both stopped dead in our tracks. There were perhaps three meters separating us. I couldn't have looked away if I'd tried. He didn't either. At least I didn't do anything foolish, didn't turn away, or gasp as I tend to do when I'm startled, or anything worse, either. I just stopped, and swallowed once or twice, and looked at him.

His skin's not as dark as I thought it would be. A soft gold color, almost, warmed with the sun a little. His body...he's not as muscled to see as he is to touch--though I've never let myself really touch him, only his arm, or his chest... But then he shifted, taking a deep breath, and I saw the definition of muscle as he moved--under the surface, deceptive, strong... his shoulders so smooth, the juncture where arm flows into shoulder flows into neck -

I was deliberately distracting myself. But his skin is so beautiful, it's easy to-- except I couldn't not look. I'd seen him in sickbay once or twice, stripped under the sheet, but there was always that sheet. Not now. Now I could see him. I don't think I breathed for a minute there. I was trying to memorize him.

He has very little body hair, but it's there, gradually teasing its way down his stomach. My fingers twitched, fist clenching as I realized I wanted to follow its path, feel the muscles under my hand, smoothing the way down between his legs, where his cock lay, soft, moving slightly when he came to a halt, seeing me. It's not small, it's not huge, it's just-god. Damn. His cock, nestled between his legs, sleek and smooth and with that graceful ridge that --

I look down at my hand suddenly, because I've just felt that ridge with my thumb, in my imagination, and I have to hide this, I can't show him this, it isn't fair. But his gaze on me draws my eyes back up.

I've never seen Kathryn naked. Until now. Not even on New Earth. We were so careful there, to respect each other's privacy, to not intrude. I was anyway. I didn't dare assume anything. We were close there, a beautiful closeness, but never across that line. Never, in all the time since. In all the time that I've imagined her, or wanted her, or wanted to touch that skin. I'd never seen her naked.

She is beautiful. I knew that, it's not a surprise. But the grace of her makes me catch my breath, and I can't stop myself from absorbing her, this vision I've been given. She's watching me too.

This is a gift, one I won't relinquish or deny. I didn't mean to run into her. We've been careful to avoid each other, without mentioning it to the Frengelli or to ourselves. This was not planned. I'm on my way to meet their export manager, to try to arrange the transport of the supplies we need so much. B'Elanna will have my hide if I don't get them. But nothing can make me move, right this minute. I can't hurry.

She is beautiful. A blush has started on her cheekbones, spreads down her neck to her breasts, but I don't think she's embarrassed. There is nothing coy about her, as she stands there, watching me, studying me. I can't move. She takes a deep breath now, and I watch, entranced. Her breasts are rich, and full, her nipples crinkled slightly, perhaps hardened, watching me. No. I can't think that. I can't risk that. I don't want to alarm her, she's been so careful lately to not let me get too close. It's given me a sort of consolation. If it didn't matter, she wouldn't try so hard to avoid me. Her internal struggle, which I can barely glimpse, gives me hope.

So I stop, barely three meters from her as she emerges from the path before me. I've startled her; her mouth forms a small oh before she seems to sigh, a bit, and her right hand drops slowly from the flower she's been touching. She stares frankly at me, no girlish denial. I have to stop myself from going to her, but I stop.

She's so tiny. No. She's small, but there's a strength there, in the muscles of her legs, in her shoulders, in the richness of her hips. The softness over the steel, the smooth curve of her stomach, the poised spring of her thigh--no, I can't do this. I have to look away, because my eyes want to drink her in, and I don't want her to see too much. I don't think she's ready to see too much. So I have to look away. I will. In a moment.

We've been standing here for--I don't know how long. Several minutes, I suppose. It's so quiet. I have to move, return to my cabin, there was some reason although I can't remember it now. Meetings. Negotiations. We're here for a purpose. He's rooted to the path, as I am, and we haven't moved. But I see him take another deep breath, now, and he's reacting to me. The same warmth of blood that makes me blush, a reaction I can't control, is filling him too. Not hard, not quite, not yet. But his cock is stirring, so now I have to move. Before we have to acknowledge this presence, this awareness, this connection between us.

But my cabin is to the north, the direction from which he's just come, and I'll have to pass him. He is walking toward me now, as I begin to move, as if some spell had been broken. He hesitates as we draw closer together, not so close that I can feel the heat from his body. But I can smell him, the faint sweet smoky smell he carries with him, I don't know what it is. Perhaps an herb he uses in his meditations. It's part of him, whatever it is. I take a conscious breath, wanting to retain that scent, that memory.

We still haven't spoken. But I want to say his name now. "Chakotay."

"Kathryn." There is the faintest of smiles on his face, in his eyes mostly. He's waiting.

Strangely enough, I'm glad she moved. She's making this...ordinary. Well. No. That can't be done. But this gift is only as important as we decide it should be. For myself, it's enough, right at this moment. I won't destroy it by presuming. So I smile at her. "You should be careful out here."

She knows I'm teasing. "Why?"

"The sun." I reach toward her shoulder, but I don't touch. Not quite. "You'll burn." There is a light dusting of freckles on her shoulders and I am trying to memorize them, in milliseconds.

She brushes her hair back from her face. "I know. I'm going inside. Are you meeting B'Elanna?"

"Yes."

A grin, quickly hidden. "That'll be interesting."

"Don't start."

His eyes are warm with laughter now. I have to let him go. I start to walk on, but something won't let me just yet. For just a moment I turn back to him.

He hasn't stopped looking. Well, neither have I. "Kathryn."

"Yes."

He starts to say something, and deliberately, visibly, stops himself. Shakes his head a little. "I'll see you back on the ship."

"All right."

We both turn away now, and move along the path away from each other. But after several paces, I have to stop, and turn around, and watch him as he walks away. As if he hears me, he raises his head, but he doesn't turn around this time. His hand is clenched, and I see him release it, letting go the tension, and I have a moment, just a tiny undisturbed moment, to study the line of his back and his ass, to see the play of light on muscle, the sturdiness of his legs. The strength. And then he walks away.

And I go to my cottage, and slip inside, out of the sun. It's the sun that's made me lightheaded, the sun and the heat. It is.

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