In the early evening the setting sun lay red against the horizon of San Francisco Bay. In long streaks the sun's rays kissed the glistening water, and the backdrop of the glow that swelled into the sky and mingled with its brilliant hue of azures and white, left a breathtaking image to be captured permanently on an artist’s canvas - lazy brush strokes that shaded in a tapestry, each dab a loving, searing touch to preserve a poignant memory.

Through the window that overlooked the bay, the golden-orange-red silently made its way out of the room, allowing the twilight to grow ever darker. It was not a sudden change, but a slow swelling, gradual acknowledgement that the time has come for the light to fade gently and allow its counterpart to take precedence. It was quiet, so quiet that mostly, the sounds from outside of people moving about their last business for the day were on the periphery of the conscious. Like afterthoughts they registered only faintly long after the sound had been made. Still, on the carpeted floor of the room, a belated warmth fused with the shade of the pile and deepened the tone of intimacy that had pervaded the apartment since the morning. Like a well received play in which the curtain lowered silently over the drama that had unfolded for the audience who sighed with great satisfaction at happy ending, the sun moved away and darkness settled. It was a darkness filled with benevolence, a sigh of welcoming by the participants and audience alike.

Therefore, night came and was welcomed, a visitor that would stay temporarily and return again another day, but in compassion would let the moon and the stars provide silhouettes and relief, creating interesting interplay of shadows and light. On the bed, lost in a tangle of sheets, Kathryn Janeway lay next to a sleeping Chakotay, their forms bathed in the very interplay of shadow and light. Their legs were entwined, caught up in the crumpled sheets and the only sound in the room, their even breathing. She lay cosseted in his arms, her palm resting on his chest, with his hand covering hers in a gesture that marked not so much possession, but sharing.

Kathryn lay awake, hardly stirring, except when she moved her face to nestle into his neck again, and to press her lips against his skin, closing her eyes in the benediction of the kiss. Most times when she had done that, Chakotay stirred slightly, as if somewhere in his sleep, he could still experience the sense of being awake and awareness of the touch of her mouth on him. In those moments when Kathryn’s lips caressed him and her eyes closed, she could feel the burn behind her closed eyelids. There had been hardly a moment since they slaked their thirst of each other that she didn’t reflect on the wonder of what had happened between them, or the joy that replaced the look of utter desolation on his face when he realised that she had not left him.

It had been his litany during the day, expressing in a physical way their coming together. He had been afraid, and sometimes had cried out his need, that she not leave him. But the short period before he returned home, that she had of necessity been forced to let him suffer needlessly a little longer, had been worth every heartache, worth every yeaning and hungry avowal of her feelings for him. She had done so many things on an impulse in the last months that the decision not to meet him at the transporter site had been a natural action that was borne out of her need – and Chakotay’s, she believed – to have their first meeting something very intimate and private. Just for this time.

She had decided to wear her blue dress, had not told anyone of her movements and deactivated her combadge so that she couldn’t be traced for at least an hour after Chakotay arrived. He would come home, she knew, with perhaps the decision to go to Paris to look for her there. She knew he had arrived when she heard the front door slide open. It had been impulsive, and now, with hindsight, the right thing to do. She hadn't wanted to punish Chakotay, but just the look on his face when he saw her... She had worn her blue dress and, on an impulse, decided that underwear would be redundant...

Kathryn felt the tears sting again as she remembered the look on his face this morning…

*

"My love…"

Chakotay dropped his duffel and walking stick in the same instant Kathryn rushed forward and into his arms.

"Oh, Kathryn…Kathryn…" he murmured brokenly as he held her close to him.

"I missed you…missed you…missed you," she cried against him.

When she looked at his face, she could have sworn he was on the verge of tears. The despair that she had seen in his bearing the moment he entered the lounge, turned to rapture. She knew he must have thought that she had left him, got cold feet... With infinite gentleness she pressed her palm against his cheek. She could feel how his body still trembled, how he pressed into her hand and closed his eyes. Her other hand caressed his hair, her fingers fluttering over closed eyelids, over lips that quivered, fingers that brushed away a tear that seeped through. She breathed again softly her old supplication of the last months: "I love you..."

Chakotay opened his fevered eyes.

"I - I have waited a lifetime too long for this moment..."

Then he started kissing her. His face was warm, feverish, his lips searing her the hollow in her neck, her forehead, her closed eyes, her mouth. For a long moment they just kissed, hungrily feasting their lips on each other, mingling breath and short gasps, halting breathing as his fingers laced into her hair and she arched her neck, feeling his lips burn into her skin. Nothing was cool in those moments. Chakotay burned her up as he blazed a trail over the planes of her face, pausing here and there to feast a little longer, prolong the ecstasy a little more intense. She cried out against him, feeling her own tears daring to cool the heat between them. His touches were gentle, tender, full of the wonder of his tactile experience of her under his ministration. Fire...water...a blessed gentle breeze...yet earth remained aloof, hardly eager to receive them. His touches were blessings, a thirst long denied that in a rush of tender passion, manifest itself in his soft groaning and occasional pained cries as he tasted her.

She melted into him, felt his need as he responded with a deep moan. She wanted more...more... Her desire was clear. She pulled his face harder against her, biting his lip when he thought to remove his darting tongue their pained probing. Then the first gentle exploration soon turned to a wild hunger that wanted assuaging as he ground his lips against her mouth, and those moments that he released her mouth temporarily to take a short breath, her mouth was open against his neck, breathless in her ecstasy; his hands were all over her, caressing, rubbing, gripping at times hard at her breasts - movements that hastened almost inelegantly towards a roughness that both welcomed, because it was all they could do: cling to one another in the storm that broke about them in frightening abandon. He pained her, pleasured her. Somehow, the pleasure subjugated the pain as his hands gripped, his teeth nipped a little too hard. Her heart beat wildly in such arrhythmic splendour that she felt her ribcage would explode. She gave him measure for measure. Her hands were not still, nor were her teeth as she found pleasure in drawing blood from his lower lip, or nails that scored his neck in a desperate effort to release the frenzied seeking to assimilate herself with him.

She knew she must have looked like a wanton hussy...

When Chakotay at last released her, his eyes….

Dear God…Chakotay’s eyes. He did not look so demented anymore, so completely lacking in control. There was in his eyes a mission, like he knew explicitly what he was going to do. How could she not respond to that wildness, his barely concealed raw aggression? She waited, knew her eyes told her how she was going to welcome him...

"Kathryn, my love," he growled, "the second time we make love today, I swear by all that is holy, I’ll caress you with all the gentleness I have in me and that I want to shower on you…

"But…?" She waited, bated breath, anticipating nothing, yet knowing…

"Right now, Kathryn Janeway, I’m not going to be a very nice man…."

"Right now, Chakotay, I don't want a very nice man..." she breathed provocatively.

"Then be prepared, Kathryn..."

Kathryn parted her lips and in the next instant, his hand reached for the neckline of her dress and in a single movement Chakotay tore the dress from her body.

He showed no surprise when he saw she was naked.

"Yes!" she crowed in triumph as he took his fill of her. Chakotay gripped her shoulders and pressed her roughly down to the floor.

There was no gentle foreplay; there was no preparation that Kathryn needed in those heated moments. It was Chakotay who simply opened the barest of his uniform for the urgency of his passion to find expression for joining his body with hers roughly, hurriedly.

By the time she lay back on the carpet, Chakotay had settled over her, grabbed clumps of her hair and spread her legs wide. He didn't speak; there was no incoherent speech of undying devotion, no sweet endearments, no pleas to be gentle.

Just hard breathing.

Just the feeling of him filling her.

No hands that fumbled or guided or pressed open soft folds.

He found her unerringly, a shaft of heat that seared its way swiftly into her.

She gave a loud groan as she welcomed him. He was hard, big - too big, she noted absently as he found her slight dryness so inciting that in a quick thrust he had lodged himself to her hilt. Ten years of abstinence vanished like mist before the sun as she adjusted to him, the release of her juices a welcome lubricant. Kathryn cried out with pleasure. Oh, God! He felt so good in her...so good.... She lifted to allow him deeper into her and far-off she could hear how he cried out. Somewhere she had registered that his trousers, which he only minimally pushed aside or opened, grazed her skin as he started ramming into her.

Unstoppable, not willing in the least to exercise any control, Chakotay pulled out almost to his tip, then pounded hard. She rocked up as he grunted, her body arching off the floor as his hands still locked in her hair. Then he loosened their grip and he locked his hands with hers, trapping them above her head. His face contorted as he pushed her to the limit. Then he bent to grab her nipple in his mouth, and she emitted a sharp cry at the pleasured pain of his strong suckling. It incited her and she pushed further into him. He released that nipple, red and tender before he caught the other nipple in his mouth; all the time as he sucked, he rocked her, pounding rhythmically in and out. She had no time to think, no time to feel the rug burning, just ride on the waves of ecstasy as her body complied and tuned itself to his rhythm, erratic, halting at first, too hurriedly needing to fuse himself so completely with her that there was no beginning, no end to Chakotay and Kathryn, but one unit melting down a wondrous, glorious ore from which the molten gold was born.

Chakotay rode her hard, oblivious of niceties, mindless of any decorum that made their act of love look modest and timid. There was no timidity, only a hard riding of the waves that brooked no stopping as they rushed headlong towards the shore and in a screaming, terrifying moment, the waves thundered and crashed over, spent itself in helpless abandon as Chakotay collapsed on her at last. Kathryn's body had tensed at the moment of impact; she arched high against him and cried…cried…cried… All the time he looked into her eyes, never caring that his face contorted into a passionate rage of expense, and she? She had died ten thousand times as she found her rhythm with him, glorying in his complete aggression and dominance of her body that did not reject his aggression and dominance, but welcomed it. Somewhere, sometime she knew, she would receive the full benefit of the gentle man.

Still he did not speak when he gave his final shudder in her then rolled away with a sigh that came from his very depths. He lay next to her exhaling deeply, his eyes closed, his face beaded with sweat. She had been giddy, the moment of climax so dizzying that it had taken a few minutes for the room to stop turning around her. When she could focus again, she lifted herself on her side to look at him.

There were no words spoken.

Yet.

He lay still, and although his face was turned to her, his eyes were closed. The sight of him was strange, erotic; the opening of his trousers just enough to reveal the still quivering member. Kathryn smiled and touched his shaft. It glistened, engorged, sensitive, twitching as she let her fingertips stroke the underside along its length. Chakotay shuddered at her touch. Her body thrilled at the anticipation of joining with his again. Already, her juices flowed in her and she knew that the day was only beginning.

So she straddled him.

"Chakotay…"

Her tone was husky, commanding.

"You were wrong. It's when we make love the third time..."

No answer from him except that she felt his acknowledgement. Without opening his eyes, he gripped her hips and Kathryn let him lower her, keeping her folds open and ready. She gave a long moan of pleasure as she sank down onto him.

"I know…" the words expelled at last from his lips.

They rode the second storm, harder, faster than the first; it curled ferociously, swung into a maddening vortex where their eyes remained for a moment hidden, a secret, mystical place where time became another element, merging with the forces that surrounded them - wind, fire, water...earth... He gripped her hips, lifted her off him so that just the tip of his shaft rested inside her, before he brought her down on him with such force that she screamed out every time she braced her knees against him and helped him in his quest to find the all-encompassing merging.

Chakotay's face twisted as he pulled her down on him, screaming with her so that there was no difference between who cried out or what they cried. Their screaming merged with the thousand wails of the tornado, then became lost in the storm. Chakotay filled her, burned a shocking trail into her as he arched and pulled her down on him. Her head was thrown far back, breasts bouncing as she rocked. The room spun in a maelstrom about her. Kathryn felt the moment Chakotay spilled again hotly into her; it was the moment she too, spilled and screamed his name. His nails dug into her skin, but she didn’t feel it as their muscles clenched and all her breath was knocked from her as they rose high off the floor before the cyclone screeched in long, keening animal-like howls before it collapsed. There burst upon them a bright, sparkling sky, as if they journeyed through a wormhole and suddenly reached the end of it to view a world of bright colours and wonder; a mix of pinks and peach and orange with blues and greens and violet. For interminable seconds they were caught in a timeless expanse where they floated effortlessly in their newfound freedom.

Somewhere, somewhere, Kathryn heard the cry of the eagle…

The eagle flew out of the storm, a wild flapping of its magnificent wingspan; it landed, wings

outstretched and when the storm was no more, she closed her wings, gently folding them back, and she bowed her head.

Long, long minutes later, after Kathryn had collapsed on Chakotay, her body still joined to his, he held her very close to him and spoke again.

"I love you, Kathryn Janeway…"

Then Chakotay wept.

***

Kathryn stirred slightly as she shifted to make herself more comfortable against Chakotay. She gave a contented sigh. Their lovemaking had continued through the day. This morning in his lounge, when he took her without much ceremony, he had not bothered to undress; he hadn't taken time to push his trousers over his hips.

"I have never made love with my boots on," he had said with a quirky smile this afternoon when they took a breather to eat.

"I've never had a man make love to me with his boots on," came her equally quirky reply.

"How long was it, Kathryn?" he asked her quietly, the guilt at his initial rough lovemaking a flash that crossed his handsome face.

"I wanted it to be like that, Chakotay. Believe me, I wanted it...You didn't hurt me, you know. I feel...enervated..."

"How long...?" he asked again.

"Ten years..."

Chakotay's eyes closed.

"Thank you."

"Why?"

"For waiting."

"I wanted the right man, Chakotay. You are that man."

They had eaten their meal in silence after that. Chakotay had showered, and his hair was still damp. He had a slight limp, but he shrugged it off when he lifted her in his arms again and carried her to his bed.

He had done that this morning too, when they were spent from that first storm and the need to join with her again, only temporarily suspended, hardly noticing the burn marks on her back as he lifted her high in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. Then he took his time as she lay on the bed, her legs apart, waiting for him, watching every move he made. He removed his clothes very slowly, smiling with a predator's smile as she smouldered and writhed under his gaze. One item after the other he shed his clothes, and when he was completely naked, he stood there, bronzed, a god.

And, he was gloriously erect again.

"Love me," she whispered.

When he lay beside her on the bed, he studied her body, his hands tracing patterns over her breasts, dropping little kisses on her nipples and lapping her salty skin with his tongue dipping into her navel. The sensation was so erotic that she cried for him to hurry.

"Shhh..."

She writhed as he licked at her, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips until she caught it and started sucking. Chakotay groaned when she did that, but he didn't release her where his mouth touched her centre. Twice he spilled his seed into her, but his mouth there was a prayer, a final admission that she was his and he was hers. She gasped, her breathing uneven as he nipped at her folds, tantalising her clit into erect readiness. She spilled into him, her hands on his back and her fingers scoring deep long scratches as she arched cried out when she crashed over the edge.

Only then he slid his body over hers, her centre throbbing wildly, ready and moist. In one swift move her body accepted him again and Chakotay cupped the sides of her head while he moved lazily in her. He watched her, sometimes smiling, at others his own face contorting in mindless ecstasy as she lost control and gave herself to him. Kathryn's mewling sounds that later careened into a long keening howl as her body was unable to stop from rocking and arching and writhing, incensed him more and he thrust strongly in her. It had been so good feeling his thickness, the way his shaft slid in, pulled out and slid in again. A heady sensation overpowered her again, her body weak and pliant and utterly at his mercy.

She gasped open-mouthed against his neck as her orgasm tore through her body.

He stayed in her, prolonging his erection by such magnificent control so that she could enjoy him moving slowly in her. When she came down, he stared into her face.

"You are so beautiful, Kathryn Janeway," he murmured.

Then she wept.

*

It was dark in the room; Chakotay was still sleeping. His own tiredness had only hit him about an hour ago when he couldn't keep the sleep at bay any longer. Now, the tangled sheets and their entwined legs were the only reminders that the day which had started with so much anxiety and dread on Chakotay's part, ended in their passionate lovemaking.

She needed him, needed to find expression of her feeling in the stormy way they did this morning, and the sweetly touching way of later when he worshipped her body properly, literally kissing every centimetre of her skin. Each touch had been so erotic that only seconds after her thumb had been in his mouth, or he had kissed her ankles, or the area just beneath her earlobes, she would position herself for him to enter her again and thrust in her until he was spent. There were times, after one of their numerous showers, she had slid down to her knees, and coaxed his soft member into a painful arousal again before taking him fully into her mouth. He'd hold her head close to him and push gently into her. When he was spent, he'd pull her up and kiss his wetness on her mouth, groaning all the time he tasted himself on her. Then he'd lift her up and impale her all the way down on him because he got hard again. She clutched at him then and rode with him until both were so tired that they only barely managed to get to the bed again.

They slept in spurts, and now, Kathryn, awake, watched Chakotay as he lay sleeping, his face peaceful, so relaxed. Her mouth curved into a gentle smile. They were strangers no more… They had a few more hours before he had to meet with his superiors, and she wanted to delay so badly the moment, wanting to keep him with her and love him all over again. They had to talk about so many things still. So many things….

Quietly, carefully, she extricated herself from him, taking one of the sheets and wrapping it about her. She padded to the easy chair that faced the window with its view of the Bay, and sat down on the edge of the armrest, staring out into the distance and the stars that lit up the horizon.

***

He knew he would always marvel at the way Kathryn Janeway could remain still, yet give the impression that she was moving or that her mind was turning over events, recent or further into the past. Moonlight softened the glow about the room and Kathryn's face was in silhouette, half relief. She had been sitting in the same position for the last half an hour, without so much as making a major shift to ease the discomfort that he knew sitting for long periods like that on the edge of the chair had to be.

She held the sheet about her in a caress, he thought, and even from where he lay watching her as she stared out pensively over the Bay, he could sense the animation of her face, an expression of her thoughts.

Perhaps she was a quiet sleeper too. He'd soon find that out when she came to bed later. It wasn't late; the night was still young for the late sundowners, or a late meal, perhaps. Even making love again.

But they were spent. The day which had begun with the thrilling anticipation of Kathryn running into his arms at the transporter site of Headquarters and which threatened so sorely to derail him, had ended. They had made furious love, and Kathryn had been the most generous giver of her body for him. She held nothing back. Even now, thinking of the way she had been so giving, so liberated, he thought that it was possible that Kathryn had not been like that for another man. It gave him the sweetest satisfaction, the most tender memories that for him, she had been the wild, wanton Kat, the sweet seductress, the huntress stalking her elusive prey, the soft, mewling kitten in his arms.

He had known sex. He had known lovemaking. Always, he had been in control, even with Caroline. Always, there had remained a part of him that was enigmatic and secret when he had made love with Caroline. With others there had been only the sharing of bodies, and the lustful exchange of fluids without the giving of the heart or the mind. Always, he could walk away without feeling the need to recreate what he just took. With Caroline there was something which he had mistakenly thought then was the real thing. Hindsight did not always have positive and welcome benefits.

The realisation was all the more painful because only now, with Kathryn, Chakotay experienced the real difference, a blinding truth that there was a difference after all. He had been so utterly convinced then that Caroline was everything.

Now he knew the truth.

Kathryn Janeway, petit, incredibly strong, independent, sassy, intuitive, generous and compassionate came into his life and became that difference.

He experienced with her extreme Joy.

He experienced for the first time in his life, peace.

He has never had that, and when Kathryn had lain beneath him, or when he had lain beneath her, his mind had connected with hers; a permanent sharing, a completion he knew he would never, as long as he existed in this life and after, have again.

It was a knowledge brilliantly searing in its significance.

In the morning, when it was light, they would examine one another's bodies and give little cries of pleasure and pain because they each bore the tantalising scars of today's lovemaking. In the morning, they could talk of the future and delay for a little longer, his going to Headquarters for his debriefing of their six month journey and his new post. In the morning, he could tell her he'd be Dr Paris's patient for the next few months. Yes, everything could wait for the morning, for the morning held a promise of time and of patience and of the anticipation of a long life together.

But now, Kathryn needed assurance. She needed him to give her that assurance.

So, Chakotay rose quietly from the bed, undeterred by his nakedness as he walked towards her. He touched her cheek in a tender caress as she turned her face to him. He held her shoulders gently and drew her up so that she could stand in his embrace. He pressed his lips in her hair, her long hair that throughout the day he could never keep his hands off it. Silken strands had twirled around his fingers and he had inhaled again its maddening smell of apples, or brandy or flowers… She made no sound, but nuzzled her nose against his chest.

Then he held her away from him.

"You loved him, Kathryn."

She tried to look away, but his fingers coaxed her chin gently so that she could face him. There was a deep sadness in her eyes and almost, almost, Chakotay felt he should stop pursuing something that hurt Kathryn still. He had known from the moment Kathryn called him, that never would she be another Caroline. When Kathryn had lain with him today, he had known she would be his ultimate destiny, and she would be true to him.

"Kathryn?"

"I - I loved him, Chakotay. For a long time I thought I would never give myself to another man - "

"Or experience great passion?" he asked.

She remained quiet for a few seconds. He knew that was not what was her concern. It was possible for a person to be given the rare honour of loving deeply a second time, and Kathryn loved him with all her heart. That he knew.

She nodded, smiled gently at his arrogance.

"What is it then, Kathryn?"

She looked away again, and when she turned to him, there were tears in her eyes.

"I don't want to lose you, Chakotay…" she whispered.

Justin and her father had died in tragic circumstances, a painful, traumatic experience for her. For ten years she had not wanted to give her heart to anyone, and now she loved another man and she was afraid of losing again.

He gave a soft sigh and cupped her cheeks, pressing his lips gently against hers.

"I can't promise not to die, sweet Kathryn…" he said soberly.

"I know. I'm ready now…"

"For what, Kathryn?"

"To walk with you, forever."

He pulled her gently in his embrace again, standing like that for long, long minutes.

"Do you know what Grey Eagle said to me one day, Kathryn?" Chakotay asked at length, breaking the silence.

Kathryn looked at him. He had promised after she asked, to take her to Grey Eagle. Besides, the old Indian had made that demand himself.

"What did Grey Eagle say, Chakotay?"

He was gratified to hear the relieved lilt in her voice again, and see her face light up in a smile.

"Out of the unknown has often sprung life's greatest gifts."

She hurled herself against him, holding him so tightly that he gasped.

"I love you, Chakotay…"

"I love you too, Kathryn Janeway, for all eternity. My life belongs to you now. All of it."

*******

Chapter 9 

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