The BLTS Archive- Watching
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

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Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager and all of it's
characters.

---

What the fuck?  Someone's in bed with me -- I feel a pair of rather
large hands snaking around my waist.   Turning around, I see Q
lounging beside me, propped up on his elbow.  He has an infuriatingly
arrogant smirk on his face.

"Hello, Chuckles," he leers.  "Sleeping alone again?  How sad."

"What do you want?" I snarl, throwing off the blankets and standing
quickly. I decide that I don't really want to know after all. 
"Chakotay to security. Intruder alert!"

"Oh please," he says, rolling his eyes.  "Give me some credit."  He
adds, to himself,  "Why is that always the first thing they do?"

"What do you want, Q?"  I'm going to have to play along -- I can see
that. Damn.  Q is the last thing I need right now.

"I thought you might like to have a look at what's going on in your
guest quarters right now," he says, suggestively.

The guest quarters.  Kashyk.

He snaps his fingers, and we are there.  The room is dimly lit, but
it's easy enough to see them kneeling on the floor directly in front
of us. Kashyk.  And Kathryn.  It's quite a tableau.  She has been
mostly divested of her uniform.  Only her tank top remains, and it's
pulled up around her neck while Kashyk, fully clothed, works over her
breasts -- twirling his tongue around her nipples, biting and sucking
at her appreciatively.

"Kathryn!" I cry out, involuntarily.

"Don't be ridiculous, Chuckles," Q says, shaking his head at my
ignorance. "They can't see or hear us, of course.  What's the matter? 
Don't you like to watch?"

"Get us OUT of here!"  I snarl, but Q just laughs.

"I love to watch," he tells me, conspiratorially.  "I do it all the
time. It's quite enlightening.  You get to see a whole different side
of people. You know, you shouldn't knock it until you've tried it."

So it happens that all I can do is stand there, helplessly, and watch
Kashyk fuck the woman I love.  I've hated Kashyk from the first moment
he boarded our ship, and not just because of the Devoran persecution
of telepaths.  His almost predatory interest in Kathryn disturbed me
as well, with good reason, as it turned out.

At first, I feel a tight panic in my chest, thinking that he's forcing
her. But it quickly becomes apparent that is not the case.  Her head
is thrown back, her face is flushed, and she is clutching his head to
her breasts, winding her familiar, slim fingers through his hair.

And when he lowers her to the floor, and begins to stroke her, I can't
decide if I want to cry or throw up.  He presses two of his fingers
inside her and she moans loudly -- a throaty, sexual sound that seems
to reverberate down to my very core.

"Oh, she's a moaner," Q observes conversationally.  "I would have
figured her to be a screamer.  See the kind of things you can learn?"

I'm not going to stand here and watch this.  I turn away and walk
through the door...and wind up right back in the darkened room.

"Oh, you can't leave NOW," Q exclaims.  "We haven't seen anything
yet..."

Kathryn is flat on her back on the floor now, and Kashyk rises and
stands above her, slowly unfastening his pants.  His cock springs out
as he tugs them over his hips.  It's huge and thick.  Kathryn's eyes
actually widen, and then a wicked smile spreads across her face
slowly.  "Impressive," she observes, wryly.  Somehow, hearing her talk
to him is the worst thing that I've had to endure thus far.  Her
voice, her sense of humor -- directed at this...bastard.

"Oh my!" Q says to me, stricken.  "YOURS isn't that big!"  He frowns
and looks down at his own crotch.  "Come to think of it, neither is
mine. That's hardly fair..."  He snaps his fingers and smiles,
satisfied.  "There. NOW it is."  He looks at me with exaggerated
sympathy.  "Too bad, Chuckles."

I feel something warm in the palm of my hand, and look down.  It's my
own blood.  I'm clenching my fists so hard that I'm drawing blood.  I
feel flushed, almost disoriented with anger -- at Q, at Kashyk, at
Kathryn, at myself -- I can't even separate the hot fury in my mind. 
Now Kashyk kneels down on top of her, pushing her legs roughly apart
with his knees.  Pinning her arms down over her head, he penetrates
her abruptly and completely.  Her back arches, and she cries out his
name. His name.

"Now that's very interesting," Q observes beside me,  "Would you have
ever thought that she'd enjoy being held down like that?"

I turn swiftly and try to ram my fist down Q's throat, but he eludes
me easily, simply moving himself from one side of me to the other. 
"Look!"  he calls out in mock outrage,  "He's actually bruising her! 
Perhaps we should notify sickbay!"

"Why are you DOING this?" I demand, but he doesn't respond, instead
cocking his head to hear what they are saying to each other.

"How do you want it, Kathryn," he's growling, and I shut my eyes as I
hear her reply.  Urgent.  Passionate.  "Harder," she commands him. 
"Harder."

"Isn't she exciting, Chuckles?" he gushes.  "Isn't she exquisite?  I
almost wish that she had agreed to my proposal that time..."  He
prattles on, but after a while I don't even hear him anymore.  I'm
making a concerted effort not to see what's going on in front of me. 
Peripherally, I notice him pulling her up and bending her over his
dining table, holding her down with a hand on her back as he enters
her from behind.  I think absently that it's the same kind of table
where Kathryn and I have our working dinners.

As he hunkers between her legs, humping her hard as she gasps, face
down on the table, my eyes glaze over and the two of them go out of
focus.  I don't know her at all, I realize.  This is not something
that I would ever have imagined her doing -- fucking as a pure
physical release, with no feeling behind the act at all.  She knows
damned well that Kashyk is not really going to stay -- that he's
deceiving us.  I know she knows this, because we discussed it just
this afternoon.

But then, maybe that's the beauty of it for her.  She won't let
herself be with me, or any other member of the crew, but she hasn't
had sex in five years.  That's a hell of a long time, and she's a
passionate person.  She likes to touch, and she likes to be touched. 
Kashyk is an opportunity for her, plain and simple.  No strings sex. 
With the side benefit that screwing him also helps to convince him
that he's fooled her.  Even through my shock, I can see that it's
brilliant.  Even logical.

They are fucking each other mindlessly, like animals -- changing
positions and locations frequently.  In a detached sort of way, I
notice that they have a great deal of stamina.  How long can Devoran
men do this? And Kathryn must be damned sore by now.  On the floor
again, with her on her hands and knees.  On the coffee table, with her
legs up over his shoulders.  Against the bulkhead right by the door,
with Kashyk cautioning Kathryn with every powerful thrust, "You have
to be quiet, Kathryn, or they might hear us..."  I know as well as
Kathryn does that the soundproofing in the guest quarters is
outstanding and the guards won't hear, but the idea seems to turn both
of them on even more.

I'm literally dizzy, and I can't sort out what I'm feeling.  I feel
embarrassed to see Kathryn like this - she would be humiliated if she
ever found out.  It's difficult to look dignified when you're moaning
with your legs spread open.  I feel betrayed, of course, although
technically I have no right to.  And it's not her fault that I'm here
-- she isn't flaunting this.  But mostly I feel angry. And mostly I
feel angry with myself.  I have to stand here, but I don't really have
to watch.  But I am watching.  In fact, I can't NOT watch.

I feel firm pressure on my own crotch, and realize with sudden disgust
that I have a hard-on, and I'm touching myself.

Naturally, this development does not escape Q.  He looks pointedly at
my hands.  "See?" he crows, triumphantly, "You DO like to watch! 
Perhaps you'd like for me to leave you alone now.  You could jerk
yourself off -- they'd never know."  He leans in close, and I can feel
him breathing into my ear as he says,  "You know you want to."

Wheeling around quickly, I grab the collar of his jacket -- he's
wearing a Devoran uniform, I notice for the first time -- and slam him
against the bulkhead.  If he were human, I believe that I could
actually kill him right now.  "Get us out of here," I shout, or maybe
it's a sob.   "NOW!"  My threats are a joke -- I am powerless to stop
any of this.  He laughs at me again, then, mercifully, snaps his
fingers and we are gone.  Back into the blissful silence of my own
quarters.

I fall heavily to the floor, sitting cross-legged with my head buried
in my hands.  I pull my fingers through my hair in disgust and
despair.  Q is uncharacteristically silent as he watches me, although
he is smiling. Finally, I manage to look up and croak one word.

"Why?"

He rolls his eyes.  "Do I have to spell it out for you?  You're so
dense!  I just thought you'd like to see how a REAL man handles her,
Chuckles.  Your own pitiful efforts don't seem to be working."

"Why do you care?" I snap.  "You clearly don't have a very high
opinion of me."

"True," he agrees.  "But Kathy seems to, although it's difficult to
see why."

"So you're doing this for HER?" I ask, laughing bitterly.  "I find
that hard to believe.  What's with the uniform, Q?  Did you wear it
just to goad me, or did you think it might impress her?"

"You think I'm interested in her SEXUALLY? A human? Don't be absurd,"
he snorts.

He crosses his arms over his chest and continues.  "I just happen to
like Kathy.  I have a proprietary interest in my Starship Captains. 
I've been watching her over the years, waiting to see just what kind
of man would break through that icy exterior.  I'm loath to admit it,
but I always assumed it would be you.  Yet I couldn't have been more
wrong. I was intrigued by her attraction to the dark inspector.  I
found it illuminating. And I thought that you would, too.  But I can
see that I was mistaken yet again.  You're pathetic."

He pushes himself away from the wall that he's been leaning against,
and looks down at me, smirking.   "I guess you'll just have to spend
the next forty years with a perpetual hard-on."  And with that, he
snaps his fingers and is gone.

I have no idea what he hoped to accomplish with all of this.  I
suspect that he just wanted to torture me, and in that he certainly
succeeded.  Or did he actually think that I would see the light,
confront Kathryn with my feelings and shove her up against a bulkhead? 
She would hurl me directly into the brig, and I would deserve it.  And
besides, it's not what I want from her. It never has been.  I don't
even like the woman that I just saw in Kashyk's quarters.  I wanted
her -- was aroused by her -- but I don't like her at all.

In fact the one thing that this incident has made all too clear to me
is that it is too late for Kathryn and me.  We'll never have the kind
of relationship that I dreamed of having with her -- passionate,
caring, sacred, spiritual.  We are doomed now to have nothing but
meaningless encounters with people that we don't care about -- trying
desperately to get what we can out of them.

I can't get the images of the two of them out of my head -- the savage
way he pounded into her, how her face distorted with a blend of pain
and intense pleasure.  I touch myself again, then more, then I undo my
pants and thrust into my fist until I come all over the floor.  Then I
throw up.

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The End