Author's Note: No great literature here, folks. Not even any plot. Just some smut I owed Guinan. You can send comments and crit to me: here. But don't bother flaming. Those I throw away.
There is a companion piece to this story, called She Bops, which is Janeway's POV dealing with more or less the same material.
P.S. A *smooch* to Monkee for the title
suggestion. It certainly sounds better than the original title: 100
Lines of Smut, no, make that 200 Lines and Still Counting. Monkee
tells me SheBops is the title of Cindi Lauper song, but I can't
swear it to....
"You're kidding, right?" Harry Kim looked hopefully up at Chakotay.
The First Officer tugged at his ear in a stalling tactic while considering how best to approach the topic. Head on, he decided. "Uh....no. I'm not. Vicassi is a gynecentric and matriarchal world with a exceptionally mild climate. What you're looking at is the typical costume for all males above the age of 10. As visitors to that world, we'll be expected to dress appropriately--and in our case, it means in these garments." He pointed at the pile of filmy fabric lying in the middle of the conference room table.
"Looks like gynecentric is synonymous with equal opportunity peeping," Kim muttered as he picked up what looked like a pair of early 21st century running shorts, albeit shorts made out of clingy silken, nearly translucent material and split up the outer seams all the way to the elasticized waistband.
Paris was already inspecting his garment. He held its waist open with thumb and index fingers while peering inside. "Hey, there's no liner in these, " Paris announced in an almost gleeful voice. "I'm gonna need a jock."
"Braggart, " murmured Kim under his breath while across the table Tuvok lifted a skeptical eyebrow.
Chakotay squelched a sigh of long sufferance. Paris could always be counted on to reduce the collective emotional age of any group. Right now he was acting like he was about 14--no make that 11. Chakotay fervently hoped Paris's levity wasn't catching. Voyager needed the trace minerals and dilithium crystals that the Vicassian system had in ready supply. They couldn't afford to fuck up at this meeting.
"I've downloaded briefing material...." Chakotay nearly winced at his poor choice of words. "to your personal terminal queues. Please read it thoroughly. We'll meet in Transporter Room One at oh-nine hundred tomorrow . Any questions? " He looked around the room. There weren't any. "Dismissed."
*^*^*^*
The corridor to the transporter seemed long and unusually drafty to Chakotay as he made his way to report for duty. Every step caused his brief to sway open along his thighs and flanks, then flutter closed. He felt sure he was being stared at, but every time he discreetly cast about for spectators, every person in the hallway seemed intent on his or her business.
It was a relief to be inside the transporter room. Tuvok was already there, looking surprisingly fit and slim for man of 122. The Vulcan probably looked better than he himself did. Chakotay looked down at his softer-than-he-liked-to-admit mid section. He needed to spend more time at the gym.
The door opened and Paris and Kim entered together in mid-argument.
"...I keep telling you, you have it on backwards," Paris insisted. "The seams are supposed...."
Kim emphatically shook his head. "No, they're not. It binds in the seat when I put it on that way."
"Well, Harry if you had any..." Fortunately Paris noticed the presence of his superior officers and whatever insult he was about to heap upon his friend died on his lips. Paris nodded respectful greetings. "Sirs."
Paris stepped up on the transporter platform beside Chakotay and Tuvok, but not before his eyes had dipped down to check out the fit and hang of the Vicassian garment on both of the other men. "See," he hissed to Kim. "You've got yours on backwards..."
The door sighed open again and Captain Janeway entered. She wore the Vicassian equivalent of a short chiton. It was belted at her waist and pinned at the right shoulder, but the two rectangles of clingy thin silk were otherwise unseamed. Her eyes swept over her entourage and Chakotay had to give her credit: her evaluating gaze stayed mostly north of the equator. She nodded once in approval and took her place, front and center, flanked on either side by her staff officers.
"Very good, gentlemen," she commented. "Prepare for transport....And Mr. Paris, If I were you I'd consider finding another place to pin your commbadge. While it does lend a certain... insouciance....to your look, it's placement is liable to guarantee that your first child will be an only child. First time, you swat it to activate it...."
Behind her Kim winced aloud in sudden insight.
*^*^*^*
Breasts. Breasts. Breasts. Everywhere he looked there were breasts.
Newly budded rosebud breasts tipped with palest spun sugar pink.
This mission to Vicassi was going to fucking kill him, he was sure. Chakotay pressed down on the head of his raging hard-on and squeezed his thighs together, trapping his erection between his legs
Pert mocha breasts surmounted by pinot noir peaks.
He dropped his head into his palms and scrubbed at his face, as if to erase the vision that lingered in his mind. The Vicassian female traditional garb included a bared left breast, like that of the legendary Amazons or his Pueblo ancestresses.
Full wheat gold breasts with melba toast tips.
Kathryn had arrived in the transporter room with her chiton pulled and tucked and her bosom fully covered, but once their group had materialized, she tugged her garment down to approximate the style of her Vicassian hosts. Her breasts were Devonshire cream dotted with salmon roe. And he was a starving man.
Chakotay shifted uncomfortably and reach down to adjust himself. Again. He'd spent all morning in a state of borderline arousal. Paris and Tuvok had been split off from the group as soon as Chyra, their principal hostess, had discovered both were fathers or, in Paris's case, an impending father. Vicassi had suffered an ecological collapse only a few generations ago and fertile males were rare. Fathers were treated with particular esteem and reverence and were exempted from most duties, including all political chores. They had been taken to tour the crèches, schools and food preparation facilities. Kim had volunteered to visit the mining facilities and Janeway had charged him with determining the compatibility of Vicassian dilithium with Federation technology.
That had left him to assist the captain with the negotiations. The bargaining went hard--and so had he. All those breast around the table. It had been impossible to keep his eyes--and thoughts--on the boring details of political discourse. He'd spent nearly the entire morning sitting with his chair pulled close to the table, trying desperately to keep a pained expression off his face. He wasn't sure how well had succeeded. More than once, he'd seen Kathryn throw a concerned look in his direction.
The announcement of a lunch break came as a great relief. He'd hoped to be able to make an escape and find a some quiet place where he could relax and be alone, but politics conspired against him. There was a diplomatic luncheon for all the delegates and he was obliged to attend. It was the kind of meal he hated most--one of those buffets where you stood awkwardly balancing your plate in your hand while you chatted with strangers who were, for the most part, only trying to get some concession out of you.
And then there were the ever-present breasts, swaying gracefully and provocatively in every direction he looked. He was lucky he didn't choke on his finger sandwich.
The it happened. At first, he thought it was just a stray breeze ruffling his shorts, but after the second occurrence, he was pretty damned well sure it wasn't the wind that smoothed a palm along the curve of his gluteus. Chakotay turned and looked around but he couldn't see anyone who looked guilty enough (or cocky enough or secretly pleased enough or any of a dozen other possible reactions) to have groped him. He was ready to dismiss the incident when a set of faint fingertips traced a tingling line down the back of his thigh. Then set of anonymous knuckles brushed lightly against his thickening penis which hung hot and heavy against his leg and another hand slipped between his legs from behind until it speculatively balanced his ball sac in her (he hoped to hell it was a her) palm.
He'd had enough. He fled before he could embarrass himself, embarrass Captain Janeway, embarrass Voyager. Hell, with the hot rush of blood he felt moving southward, he could probably embarrass the Federation and the whole fucking Alpha Quadrant while he was at it.
He'd found a retreat, a public fountain in a mostly empty square. He sat down beside it and let the gurgle of flowing water salve his overwrought nerves. His eyes had just dropped closed and his hand was edging toward his lap when the annoying voice of Tom Paris shattered his peace.
Paris flopped down beside him on the edge of the fountain. "Some wild kind of place, huh, Commander? It's making me crazy. All those boobs. It's a wonder anyone gets any work done."
Chakotay frowned at Paris's flippancy and decide that one of them needed to act mature. "I assume, Mr. Paris, that since this is what everyone wears all the time that the native populace does not react with undue prurient interest to exposed body parts. And that work gets done just fine." His voice sounded pedantic and priggish even to himself.
Paris shrugged. "Whatever. All I know is that I've been walking funny all day. I sure hope B'Elanna is off duty when I get home from this little field trip. I'm so horny I could fuck a knot hole. Got to go. There's my guide." Paris popped to his feet and started to leave before turning back. "You won't tell B'Elanna what I just said, will you? All those pregnancy hormones. She'd kill me."
And Paris was gone.
But Chakotay's problem still lingered. He reached down and rearranged his shorts. Maybe he just ought to take his difficulty in hand, so to speak. He wasn't seventeen anymore, hadn't been for a long, long time. Maybe if he gave himself a little manual relief he could manage to make it through the afternoon with some sort grace.
*^*^*^*
Privacy. He need privacy. That was a given. No matter how liberal the Vicassians seemed to be, Chakotay was pretty sure that jacking off in public was not deemed 'acceptable behavior.' Besides he was Voyager's First Office. He had responsibilities as a role model and exemplar. That, and he was sure if Janeway found out what he was up to she would be wearing his balls as coup around her neck.
There was a tree, an oak-analog, off to the side of the plaza. It was old and gnarled and huge and might offer sufficient privacy for what he was planning. There was even a tall, closely slatted wooden fence separating the tree from whatever lay on the other side. It was as good as he was going to do on short notice.
Chakotay took a quick look around the square. Good. No one was looking in his direction. He slipped between the tree and the fence and sat on the ground with his back against the alligator bark. He eased the front of pants down and lifted himself free. Even that much ease was a mercy. He wrapped his fingers around his semi-erect cock and gave the delicate skin a tentative stroke. His dick sprang to full attention and his glans peeked out from under his foreskin like a shy virgin on her wedding night.
This wasn't going to take longer. Pre-cum was already oozing. He dipped his thumb into the fluid and use it to lubricate the short firm strokes he pushed along the sensitive underside of his dickhead. Oh god, Oh god. He wasn't going to last long at all. Maybe a little creative visualization would speed the process even more. He mentally catalogued all the breasts he had seen during the day and settled on a pair---Kathryn's. He had never seen her nude. Well, once he'd seen her in nothing but a towel. Unfortunately the towel had covered all of her most interesting bits. However, now that he'd glimpsed Roy, Siegfried wasn't so difficult to imagine. Her breasts were smooth and velvety and faintly freckled, a softly reassuring weight against his palms and not at all like Seven's breasts which had been unyielding and as firm as mattress stuffing the one time he'd touched them through her catsuit.
He caressed one breast and then the other, swiping his thumbpads across her nipples which rose to firm peaks under his attentions. Yes, it felt so good and she was so responsive. He pressed his face into the sweet valley between her breasts. She smelled like orange blossoms.
Wait. Orange blossoms? In all the years he'd known Kathryn, he couldn't remember once when she smelled like orange blossoms. His id groaned with frustration and rapped his brain with its knuckles. This a fantasy, idiot. Just go with it.
OK, where was he? Oh yeah. He pressed his face into the sweet valley between her breasts. He lavished open-mouthed kisses on the inside of one breast, then other and gradually shifted upward. Kathryn lifted her chin and drew her neck taut as he sucked at the base of throat. She moaned, deep and guttural as he fondled her, a breast in each hand. He pushed up against the tree and her hands were in his hair....
And she was shoving him away. She reached over her shoulder and rubbed at the abrasions the rough bark had left on her back. She looked up at him in annoyance. 'Can't you find someplace a little more comfortable?' she groused. 'It's not your back that's getting cut to ribbons here.'
He pushed her up against the inside of the door of her Ready Room. He'd always wanted to fuck her on her desk. He kissed her bossy mouth, silencing any further objections she might have. Her quick tongue pressed back into his mouth, delving and exploring and hot. He wanted to swallow her whole. His hands reached for her breasts...and damn!... found wool gabardine instead of yielding skin. She was in uniform. How did she do that? He tried to undress her, but everytime he peeled off her jacket it instantly reappeared. This wasn't working.
New Earth, then. He'd always been fond of New Earth. She'd just call him outside. Instead of looking for that stupid monkey, he stepped forward, sliding his hands around the delicious curve of her waist, reaching under the towel and following the inviting sweep of her belly until he found her mons. He cupped her there, rubbing his fingers through her springy pubic hair. She tossed her head back against his shoulder and groaned deep in her throat. A single finger eased forward to separate her folds. She was wet and hot and wanting. A second finger joined the first, spreading her wider. She moaned and rocked greedily against his hand. He was more than happy to oblige her, thrusting two fingers deep inside her while using his thumb to tease her clit. Her hands clutched spasmodically against the front his thighs as she approached her climax. Chakotay turned her and pulled away the towel. Kathryn was accommodating and wrapped her leg obligingly around his hip, but dammit, she was just too short, even on tiptoe. He looked frantically around for something to sit on. The edge of the tub.
Chakotay perched on the edge of the bathtub and pulled Kathryn into his lap. She straddled his thighs and sunk hilt deep on his iron-hard erection. She offered him her throat and he sucked on the rapidly thrumming pulsepoint in her neck. He tried to rock his hips and thrust into her, but he couldn't get any leverage on the narrow rim of the tub and her feet didn't even reach the ground so she was no help.
Chakotay settled into the Navajo patterned armchair in his quarters. He pulled Kathryn into his lap, impaling her on the iron spike of his erection. She groaned and began to rock. There was a motion in the darkness and Kellin stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly across her chest and a thin angry frown slashed across her face. Oops.
Chakotay relaxed into the depths of Kathryn's couch. The stars flowed lazily past her living room window. She came to him willingly, straddling his thighs and sliding warm and wet over his eager erection. She tried to lift herself, but he held her still, his large hands pressing down tightly against the top of her hips. She couldn't rise, only grind herself around and around, brushing her ever more sensitized clitoris against the hard root of his cock. He watched her pupils grow huge and dark as her orgasm approached. Her breath hitched and he felt her shudder all over as her tight sheath gripped him like a fist.
She lolled bonelessly against him, but he was far from finished. He eased her off of him and positioned her on the couch. He lifted one knee over the back of the couch and placed the other over his shoulder. He knelt between her legs and began to lick and bite and smooth the rough flat of his tongue over every bit of her he could reach. She was shuddering again, and pressing her hips up hard against his mouth. He felt her spasm against his lips over and over and over until he wasn't sure she was still breathing. He lifted his head to look at her. She met his eye. "Fuck me" she said. So he did.
Oh god. He was coming, His balls were squeezed tight against his body and the base of spine sent electric jolts out along all his nerves. And fuck! He didn't have anything to catch his come. It's not like his outfit had a handy pocket for a hankie or anything. Lacking anything else, he let himself spurt into his left palm. Ick. He wiped the goo onto the dirt and picked up a another pinch of dust. He rubbed it between his palms and scraped both his hands along the ground. Then he wiped the last sticky drops of jism off with his index finger and tucked himself back into his pants. He felt much better.
Back in the public square Chakotay washed his hands in the fountain when no one was looking.
After a two false starts, Chakotay eventually found his way back to the conference hall where the trade negotiations were taking place. Things must have proceeded apace without him since a trade agreement had been drawn up and arrangements for delivery had been made. All that remained was the return of Voyager's prodigal men so the away team could beam up.
Chakotay was glad he wasn't the last man to straggle in. That honor belonged to Tom Paris who arrived still 'walking funny' and looking quite...ragged. As Paris took his position in the beam-up formation, he mouthed at Chakotay: 'Please, don't tell.'
The away team rematerialized aboard Voyager and dispersed back to their duties and their lives, but Janeway lingered in the transporter room. Sensing she wanted to talk with him, Chakotay stayed behind until everyone else had left.
"Is everything all right, Chakotay" " she asked. "You disappeared so suddenly and were late coming back from lunch. Was there a problem?"
Her voice hovered so oddly over the word 'problem', that Chakotay was half afraid she somehow knew what he had been doing during his missing time.
"No. No problem." He kept his voice even and carefully neutral.
A sigh slid out of her. "Good. I
was afraid..." She took a fortifying breath. "I had a very...odd... experience
during lunch. It was as if these hands kept touching me...."