The BLTS Archive - Gillie: Epilog
by R.Schultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Disclaimer: All praise be to the Great Gods Ba'al, Paramount and
ViaBorgCom who own all things Trek.  I'm just using their discarded
toys and I'll put 'em right back.  Honest.

Warning: TrekSmut within.  No one underage, or living in a country or
locale which prohibits smut of any kind may enter here.  It's a no-
no. Vamoos!

April 2002.

Archiving; This fiction is intended for the Captain's Fuhq Fest.  May
be archived elsewhere, so long as you let me know.

---

"Mmarghpranne."

-- "seenne -- bannella daaa" --

"Marbursekkam.  Mmurmurpgrapmm.  Nruldessa?"

-- "roomennao" --

It was such a beautiful; dream.  Even if I weren't thinking yet, my
body knew it was a wonderful dream.  It was a dream, of course, my
under-me/id knew that.  Dreams have that fuzzy clear murky logic like
that.  Sometimes you realize it's a dream.

It's like flying, which is what I was doing now.  To fly I knew
exactly how to arch my back, wriggle, move my arms, and off I could
go, into the sky.  Flying madly along like a chickadee who'd just
realized she was flying in a predator-free sky.

Wonderful.  Free.  Soaring and dipping.

I just wished I could remember the sequence necessary for me to fly
when I was in my other world, the waking one.  It would be so nice.
Swoop down the corridors, laughing at everyone, depositing guano on
the heads of those unwary enough to let me get above them.

I'm a naughty little bird.

Flying is such fun, the way my feathers hold and caress the air, the
way my muscles work and twist.  The way I can fly by simply going
ahead and doing it.  To fly I think the sequence and my feet leave the
ground. I wished I could remember how to do it when I'm just a
Captain.

The more I flap my wings, the more I glide, the warmer I feel, the
hotter I grow.  Especially down there, between my legs.  So hot.  So
wet, I can put my tongue out and taste me in the air.  The flavor of
Katie's wet pussy, the scent I have when I warm and get all sparkling
and juicy.

Harry enjoys eating me, and quite apart from the sex-fun and orgasm
thing, I enjoy it also.  It's another form of touching, of
communication.  I enjoy Harry being happy when his fingers or lips
touch me.  He values me.

Harry has made me into quite a connoisseur of me.    Now I glory in
me.  My taste, my scent, the way fire-trails buzz in my belly when he
pulls at my clit with his teeth and mouth like that.

I have to gasp and my head snaps back, and my eyes roll back into the
top of my head when it winds tighter and better and twistier.  My
groin lips  puff, they enjoy being hurt soft good hard when he chews
on them.  I can smell me when it gets really good.

Maybe I'm still flying, down deep in my soul, but I'm enjoying the way
I wake-feel when he works his face, his tongue, his teeth on and in my
pussy.

Pussy.  It's re-acquiring it's use as a simple descriptive noun, just
between the two of us.  I have a pussy.  Pussy, pussy, pussy, and I
adore it when it's purring.

It likes Harry eating it.  Especially in the early morning, before the
start of shift.  I'm a woman to Harry, and he enjoys my pussy. He
obtains a large amount of pleasure from the rest of me, but he enjoys
my being a woman.

Who is....

"Don't stop, Harry," I plead.  "Not now, not when I'm so close. so
very close."

So  tight, my thighs are tense, my knees wave in the air, my hands
flutter uselessly, yes, the hard hard mainspring I can feel it deep
inside me, behind my clit....."

He sucks me into his mouth, gnawing on my hard hot clit, oh, it feels
so good when he adjusts himself, I can feel the movements, he pauses,
he sucks me back into his mouth and he's got a finger in me now.....

I clamp down hard,  loving the way my muscles there cinch and try to
trap him.  But it's just one little finger, and it slides back and
forth in me regardless of how hard I cinch the muscles in my pussy
mouth, and his teeth are cruel on me now, biting my tiny iron rod....

My noises are loud, at one time I couldn't let myself be loud when I
came.  Now I enjoy the release of noise, the pain and pleasure of my
lungs needing air and my chest tight and I dig my curled fingers into
the hair of my sweet lover.

I come.  Oh yes.  I go up and I start to come down on the other side
and he won't stop sliding that finger inside me and his lips work me
and his tongue is licking and his.....

I come.  Eventually I have to push Harry's head away from me, I need
air, a break, my nerves are shaking.

I don't ever remember getting so much fun in the early morning as I do
now.  My pussy is awake and happy before I'm awake.  A delightful way
to start a work-day.

One of my fantasies is that people in the corridors outside can hear
me when I come.  I don't ever want to discover otherwise.  Listen to
Katie be a slut, folks.

Treading quite gingerly on taboo ground, Chakotay has ventured the
opinion that I'm much easier to deal with in the morning.  Some
mornings.  Without saying I was a grouch in the mornings pre-Harry
Kim, he thinks  the bridge is a happier work station now.

If nothing else I don't drink so much coffee.  Harry always insists I
have something to eat for breakfast, and he makes me smile the way he
looks after me.

Sit down, Katie, he'll say while he runs a few fingers down my neck.
Harry is a toucher, and I realize Mark wasn't.  I like the touching.

Harry tells me to have a little food with my coffee, relax, enjoy a
disgustingly good-for-me chewy bar to nibble on.  I'll have my tea, he
points out, and nibble on a chewy bar with me.  We can be civilized
together for a few minutes, he'll say.  And he'll touch me somewhere,
lightly.

I adore being taken care of.  I've been the Captain for several years
non-stop, now.  On my own.

Enough.  I can't imagine going back to that point in time where I put
on my pips and I square away my bun and all too often I couldn't smile
at the me I saw in the mirror.  Now I can smile at the me attaching my
pips.  Now I can smile doing that little chore.  Smiling while Harry
touches my neck in passing.

It's good to be pampered.  Just a little bit.  Not spoiled rotten.
Just having my shoulder massaged for a minute when we're having a
moment in the kitchenette.  Harry is going to spoil me.  Puuuurrrr.

Harry raises his head from my crotch, waiting for his moment of
praise.  Maybe a little kiss from the Captain, the ultimate combined
father-mother figure.   A touch in return, a caress, from the older
lover who enjoys being the subject of his sexual fantasies.

Harry is proud to be able to keep me purring.  I'm happy from all the
attention.  Not to mention the sex, which is almost always great.

That's something new for me, I can look forward to enjoyable sex.  I
need the alternative to the nerves-jangled woman sitting in that cat-
bird seat and wondering from what direction the next catastrophe is
going to arrive.

If we ever become two old tired married people, it'll be so sad.  As
it is, living on the edge is a great aphrodisiac.

Harry crawls alongside me, his hands always TOUCHING.  It's incredibly
flattering being caressed as if I deserve to be touched and caressed.
Someone in the universe likes me, someone in the universe values me as
a woman.

Harry thinks my breasts are delightful, and he'll enjoy teasing and
pulling them, and he'll jolly them sometimes, like now.  Just to watch
them quake and move and quiver.  He'll suck on them and lets me feel
his teeth, sometimes too hard, like now, to make me snap and moan with
almost-pain, the good pain you can get from a lover's biting.

We kiss again, and I enjoy the taste of me on his mouth.  I'm a slut
and now I know it and admit it.  I touch back, and as expected, find
Harry is hard and risen to the occasion.  I roll on top of him.

And keep rolling,

"Me first!", I say out loud.  And tear into the dumper before him.

Afterwards we clean each other, then I grab good hold of his most
promising part, and pull him back to bed.  I giggle as he rolls me
over and over until we're both in a heap against the wall.

I love the feel of his erection.  It fits into my hands so exactly. He
was made to be jacked by a woman just my size.  I dip my head, taking
the uncut head into my mouth.

Harry was made just the right size to fit in my mouth.  He's one of
those men who like his balls played with, so I carefully feel all that
sperm he has inside his eggs.  Just the right flavor to make me smile
when I taste it.

Which wouldn't take long, except for the fact I keep taking my lips
off his cock.  Teasing, prolonging things,ut and proud of it.

Where was all this sluttishness when I was with Mark and all those
others?  It was something waiting to be unleashed, though, I know that
now.  And I'm to the age where I can let go and enjoy sex for it's own
sake.

Perhaps there is a degree of desperation to it, also.  Far from home,
still decades from the Alpha Quadrant, I'm willing to let myself go
and enjoy what I can grab.  Harry pillow-talks to me about his own
fears, and we can huddle together and be afraid with one another.
Nothing abject or destructive.

On the bridge I am Captain Janeway.  In bed I can shake, and hold on
tight.  In bed I've site-to-site transported Harry to Sick Bay for the
deep cuts I've left in his back.  And my broken nails.

Katie is afraid, and she isn't the only one.

For the moment I adore the way my tongue curls around his prick head,
the texture against my palate, the fullness and cutting-off of air as
I rake him into my throat.    This also is a form of domination,
playing him like a finely-tuned instrument, controlling him.

Domination for Harry also, letting me take him into my woman's face.
Humming to myself, to him, as I force my head into his crotch.  I
involuntarily convulse around him when he's deep in me like that, and
once again it's that final touch that takes him over the edge.

I pull back, quickly, my teeth egging him on, my hand busy on his
balls, savoring the first taste of come as it spatters onto my tongue.
Like I said, I enjoy it when I fellate Harry.

Considering how verbal a person I am, how oral, that shouldn't be any
surprise.

Harry doesn't hesitate any more when we kiss, bless his pliability.  I
haven't ever mentioned it to him, but he seems to accept the way I am.
And I'm really honestly trying to learn how to be a toucher.  I bend
back to him, giving him one last lick, smiling as I get that last
drop.

I've changed.  The Captain is happy being a slut, at least in private,
between the two of us.  For a little while Katie can be more woman
than Captain.

One of the nicer surprises in our romance was discovering the way
Harry happily took to my massive collection of Risan sex toys.  On
more than one occasion I've stepped onto the bridge with that almost-
sore feeling a gal gets from too much sex play.  Toy play in this
case.  I'm willing now to be a creature of excess.

Besides the sex part, like I said.  The sex is really nice, with the
toys.   We are in a spirit of play and adventure with my damned (to me
gigantic) collection.  That's Harry's domination sequence, though I'd
never mention it to him.  I think I psychoanalyze too much.

Harry turns my willing and pulsating body into a quivering mass of
groaning orgasms with that cabinet stuffed full of Risan inventions. I
love the word pulsating.  Pulsating, pulsating, pulsating.  That's me.
Pulsating putty in his hands.

Can I help it if I want to accommodate Harry when he's curious?  So
we've tried every damned sex toy on me, and each more than once. More
than once I've made my last chore before heading for the bridge the
dumping of my sticky toys into the replicator and setting it on clean.

Okay, okay, many times.  More mornings than not.  Lots of times. Harry
likes to watch me get it on with my toys.  I like to flaunt. Harry
thinks this old broad has a great body and he thinks I'm sexy as all
get out when I'm stuffing myself with some toy.  Watching me pulsate.

Pulsate, pulsate, pulsate.

That's an alternate scenario for our morning sex play, when we begin
my day with a smile.  Harry helps me come on a toy or two, gets erect,
and I get my deserved reward of a mouthful of Harry.  Frankly, having
an audience lends a degree of excitement to a little leisured
masturbation, a la Risa.

It's also progressed from there.  Now my solitary pleasure, my toy
masturbating, has become a team sport.

Let's hear it for team sports!  Rah, rah, rah!

Life can be rich and rewarding.

I hope everyone on the bridge assumes it's Harry hisself who makes the
Captain walk funny and smile in the morning.  On quite a few
morning's.  I think Harry has gotten quite the reputation.  Not that
I'd pretend to be more sore than I am, just to make Harry look good.
Never.  Not me.

I try not to let B'Elanna know the times I've caught her looking funny
at the two of us.

Eat your heart out, B'Elanna.

My collection has even grown larger.  I'm going to have to get a
bigger night stand.

Like this thing.  The Replicator had it listed as "Green Fruit". It's
made to fit around your lover's cock, when it's soft or more flaccid
than not.  It's gently erect height is 27 mills, but the secret is
it's girth and all the hundreds of quivery balls lining it's sides.
I've gotten to be a real connoisseur about little quivering balls on
the sides of my more appreciated toys.  Tiny quivering balls by the
hundreds equates to good, in my book.

Pulsate, pulsate, pulsate.  Yay, team!

At any rate, the "Green Fruit" tapers down from a cut head with a
wicked crown to it, to a bottom that is twice the diameter of a normal
Terran male.  Twice.  With all of those little quivery balls. Hundreds
of quivery balls are good.

We both giggle as we let the dildo seal Harry's own dick inside. It's
now firmly seated and right exactly where it should be.  With those
delightful little balls all over it.

Did I mention hundreds of little balls are good?

Harry could probably get it up and hard again this morning, but this
dildo doesn't necessitate any effort on his part.  He isn't going to
be pressured to perform, if I have any sneaky say in it.  Katie
Janeway knows better than to demand the sometimes impossible out of a
mere mortal terrestrial male.  Especially with my night stand to hand.

Besides, that's part of his new reputation.  The Captain is worn to a
frazzle and Harry looks like he's had twenty hours sleep.  Put on the
"Green Fruit", and he's -- maybe literally -- twice the man any other
male on this ship is.

Katie is a slut.  She admits it, now.  She likes it big.  We women lie
a lot.  We do like it big.  Those hundreds of little quivery balls are
a nice bonus.

Pulsating, pulsating, pulsating.

Fortunately, Harry seems never to have felt rejected because I like
this thing.  I hope he understands I meant it when I said I'd never
expect a mission impossible out of him regarding sex.  Normal male-
female type sex.  I'm the Captain, and I have a special problem about
becoming a dominatrix or something, in our loving.

I have to be constantly aware that Harry is both a junior officer and
my lover, and not to let us get confused about when to put on the one
persona and leave off the other.

Though there WAS that time we were having trouble with another double-
damned race that didn't want us violating their precious *^%$#@ space.

"NOW!", I screamed at Mister Kim.

"Hold your ass, Honey!", he replied.  "I'm working on it!"

You could have heard a bacillus fart, at that moment.

It hurt to have to call Harry into my ready room and cut off his
balls, like I did.  Fortunately they grew back the next day.  Poor
Harry even got Brig time.

Harry is my lover.  It has to be SEEN that he is held to a more
rigorous standard of behavior than anyone else on this ship.  He gets
zero slack cut for him because he's my boyfriend.

I rub lube onto the "Green Fruit", anticipating it inside me.
breathing hard to feel the size and taper and hundreds of little
quivery balls in my hand.  I am mesmerized by the feel and texture of
what I know is going to be inside me in a moment.  I fellate it,
tasting the raspberry flavor of the lubricant I'm coating the dildo
with.

"Harry," I murmur, looking at him.  The spray of lube is quickly put
away on the shelf, and Harry reaches out to me.  Now he's  helping me,
guiding me as I quickly straddle him and the enticing toy.

I love my toys, and yes, I know I've made a pun.

My hand goes back, to guide it, I bite my lip, blind to anything else
in the universe.  The first touch makes me gasp, it seems so cold.  I
force my body to be just .... so.  Harry helps me slowly adjust to the
head.

It enters me.  The head is all the way inside.  I let gravity do the
rest, easing myself onto all those hundreds of quivering little balls.

I cry out, pitifully.  It's filling me, it's inside me and still it
enters.  There seems to be a meter of dildo already in my pulsating
vagina, but my fingers know there's still a space between me and
Harry's crotch hairs.

I raise up .....  and moan to sit down on it.  Up.  Down.  Up.  Down.
My hands are on his wondrously muscular belly, we manage to kiss and I
feel his pubic hairs mix with mine.

It's in.  All of it.  I gasp and gasp as I force myself up and down on
it.  I don't think, I'm a mass of female flesh impaling itself on that
damned green monster, that glorious hard monster that I'm forcing in
and out of my pussy.  We are making slapping sounds, obscene sticky
foot-in-mud noises together.  We are fucking and it is soooo
wonderful.

In, out, in, out, the upswing almost making me cry with the feeling of
loss and emptiness.  I quickly fill myself again and again with my
lover.  Both of them.  Harry touches me, he irritates my nipples, he
massages my ass, he runs the back of his hand on my belly and into my
wet pubic hairs.

I'm getting close.  So close.  So very close.  I can't do it any more.
I touch Harry, not knowing what I need from him.  Fortunately he
knows.

"Harry," I manage to murmur.  I can't say anything else.  I am
completely impaled and I can't raise myself any more.  It is too good
and I am so close and my legs are jelly.

We roll.  He rolls us, he rolls on top of me and I'm woman pinned by
her man.  My arms wrap around him, we kiss, he licks my face as he
picks up the rhythm I can't manage anymore.  His hips are up and down,
he screws me with the green dildo, letting me feel every little-
quivery-ball-studded millimeter of it.

We don't make wet slapping noises anymore.  Harry grinds the dildo
into me, his hips taking on a circular motion, tearing me to wonderful
shreds.  I groan as I go up the slope.  I cry as Harry fills me, I
bite my lip and scratch his back and lock my ankles over his knees and
ass.

It is good to be a woman.

I Come

My eyes go white, and we wallow on the dildo, rubbing it's fullness
into and on me.  My clit is a tiny iron rod full of fire and pain.

It is a good good good good

Come.

Harry lies on top of me, I hold his weight on me as the sparkles and
fireflies travel up and down my belly and my spine.  I wince to find
blood on my fingers again as he pants into my ear.  My poor Harry.
There's a lot of bitch in me, a lot of dominatrix, and I sorrow to see
him hurt by the dark side of me.

At times like this I wish he was tied to a woman with gentler
attributes to her.  But we are as we are, and I shouldn't ever want to
lose my Harry, my toucher.

Harry laughs off his battle scars, and I suppose they're not really
very severe.  But it's still a side of me I acknowledge but don't
admire.

We get by.

By regulation I am not supposed to have my own dermal regenerator
stuck in a drawer, but I do.  I fix Harry's back and let Harry apply
it to my slightly-used and sore pussy.  Having my own regenerator to
hand beats the hell out of trudging down to Sick Bay for damage
control.  It's hard to imagine being without a few illicit luxuries.

I silently note the condition of Harry's valiant penis, mentally
making an aide memorie to be nice to Harry, tonight, when there's
time.  Right now it's time for our showers.

We help each other dress, touching, letting Harry make me squeal and
giggle for a few of his more naughty tickles.  I feel beautiful when
he plays with me like that.  Like I'm worth being played with.

I am woman, I am strong, I am ticklish....

For breakfast Harry dials a few fresh peaches and a croissant with a
strip of dark meat in the centers.

He okay's my final appearance, and I his, and we march boldly forth
into the corridors.  I am Captain, and you damned better not cross me.
Another facet of Mrs. Janeway's snotty little girl.

We enter the bridge together, both of us fifteen minutes early, as
usual.  As usual gamma shift has encountered no spatial or temporal
anomalies, no vicious toads of empire or major malfunctions.

That only happens on my shift.

Today was a jolt.

Annika -- MY Seven of Nine -- swanned onto the bridge, squealing and
laughing and giggling.  With B'Elanna Torres in close attendance,
draped over my statuesque ex-Borg. giggling and squealing as well.
Giggling.  I don't know which was more open.  My eyes or my mouth.

B'Elanna followed Annika to her Astrometrics station, whispering,
touching, giggling.  Our half-Klingon did something that prompted a
major squeal and bout of laughter from the once cold-demeanoured
blond.  The gorgeous stone faced Nordic goddess that has trouble
loosening up and relaxing is both giggling and squealing on my bridge.

I think B'Elanna just goosed Annika Hansen.

The next component of this tableaux entered stone-faced and unsmiling
at that moment.  Lt. Tom Paris barely glanced at the two women and
quickly went to his duty station at the helm.  The two women quieted,
looking at Mister Paris with strange expressions on their faces.  The
two quickly split up, B'Elanna going back into the ship proper, being
due in Engineering this morning.

I was deliberately pleasant to Mister Paris, giving a cue to everyone
else how to handle things.   Ignore that anything was wrong and be
courteous, especially to Lt. Paris.  Actually I felt like going over
to my perennial problem child and giving him a big sympathy hug.

I also deliberately smiled at Seven, getting up and passing a few
words with the towering woman.  The Captain goes from station to
station, making a small joke at Chakotay, or a word of business with
Tuvok.  We are all normal, here on the bridge, and none of us saw a
damned thing happen.

A cup of coffee from the thermos, not a latte this morning, but with a
slight taste of cherry.  Looking at the screen, being normal.

Annika Hansen has just become B'Elanna Torres' latest lover.

&%$#@!*+

Mentally I was cursing up a storm, anticipating discord and strife
somewhere on down the road.  A Captain's work is never done.....

I felt more than a touch of pity for Mister Paris.  He was such a pain
in the ass sometimes, but B'Elanna Torres was such a handful for any
single person to attempt to live with.  Sexy as hell, no doubt of
that, but a handful.  And I shall have to officially investigate who
has the daughter.

I also hoped B'Elanna didn't happen to be pregnant at this moment in
time.

It was hard to equate Seven of Nine with B'Elanna, but it made a
certain amount of sense.  Both were fringe-dwellers on this ship.
Rebels, prone to mutual attraction when they weren't fighting, and we
all knew already that conflict was a turn-on to the Chief Engineer.

Annika's brief but disastrous affair with Chakotay had merely
indicated problems the ex-Borg was still having in her humanoid
relationships.

The blond noticed me looking, and she SMILED at me.  Unless you wanted
to call it a leer.

She carefully displayed her body for me, giving me a slightly toothy
leer.  Leer was the word.  Annika Hansen liked women.  A lot.  And she
was preening for me, the Captain.

What was much worse was realizing I was attracted to her as a lesbian.
And truth be known, hadn't there always been a sense of attraction by
me towards her?  Lots of skeletons in my closet.

I retreated to my Ready Room, and pretended to not notice the pile of
PADDs and work needing my attention.  I stared across my desk and saw
nothing, except a mind's eye view of a nude B'Elanna swarming all over
a wondrously naked Annika Hansen.  The Ice Queen thawed out in the
arms of the Klingon firecracker.  The two most beautiful women on the
ship, in some eyes, and they were.....

I immediately blinked away my vision of B'Elanna's mouth buried in
Annika's perfect groin.  I returned to my Captain's seat, bantering
with Chakotay, being normal on a normal day.  After an hour I talked
to Harry, inviting him to lunch in the Ready Room.  Then I went
stalking about my ship.

In Engineering I listened patiently to Lt. Torres as she explained
details of the latest refit.  It's hell rebuilding an engine while
it's still running.  She pulled me into her own little cat-bird-seat
alcove.  We were looking at some schematics when she put a very
cautious finger on my hand and caressed it.

"She's a very good lover, no, beyond compare," she whispered to me.
"There isn't a thing she won't do and nothing that fails to please
her.  Every hour I give thanks to numerous gods that you brought that
beauty onto our ship."

I froze, my mind churning.  "Annika has had several very brief affairs
on this ship, did you know that?  But no male has been able to give
her pleasure.  Now she knows why.  She is a lesbian, and is ecstatic
over the discovery.  She has been given what she had despaired of ever
finding.

"Dear lovely Kathryn, darling Captain mine, did you know I wished once
to have your lovely body and lovelier persona in my bed?  I used to
dream at night of taking you in my arms and giving you all my love.
Would you please give me a kiss some day?  A real kiss, the kind
lovers give each other.  I want to remember those sweet lips on
mine...."

I was out of Engineering, I hope, at a measured and stately pace.  I
really didn't need that unsubtle proposal.  And what the hell would we
do with Harry?  No thank you.

Inside myself, my secret self, I knew I was fleeing the single
flickering flame of desire.  B'Elanna was right.  We might have been
passionate lovers and I knew it.

In my Ready Room I dithered and paced, waiting for lunch and the
presence of Harry Kim.  When he arrived I held him and kissed him as
passionately as I could.  I led him to the couch, patting a place
alongside myself.

We kissed again, and again, and again until my tunic was off, and his.
We stood and helped each other out of our half boots, trousers and
underclothes.  We held tight to each other, kissing, caressing,
touching and fondling our bellies and our groins.

It was completely unplanned, and yet not unexpected.  I was upset and
confused and I needed the love of my Harry, the new anchor of my life.

People have used the phrase "mated like animals" before, or "fucked
like mad bunnies", but for once we lived up to the coarse jokes.

We quickly laid me down on the carpet, our issue clothing put down to
give me some protection from rug burn, and we panted our way into
immediate sex, love, coitus, fucking.

There was lube (and a few toys and other items) in a drawer, but I was
having none of that, not this time, not me.  I didn't have the time to
spare for that civilized shit.

I was a desperate woman, and Harry, bless his heart, was risen for the
occasion.  My hands were busy jacking him, I was spitting on my hands,
and my legs swung open and my knees up.  We stared in each other's
eyes, we kissed ungracefully, he found my nipples already hard and
eager.

I knew I was hot, I hoped I was wet enough to do this without any
lube, and we both found I was tighter than hell.  However, he slid in
easily, a wet popping making my face blush with sexual heat, and Harry
was inside me in one easy motion.  All the way in, to the hilt, and I
wailed in surprise and lust and sheer damned gratitude to be so filled
so suddenly.

I think I had a mini-come as soon as he bottomed out in my damned
tight needing hole.  Tight, tight.  I don't think I ever enjoyed a
simple old-fashioned missionary style fuck as much as I did on that
damned hard floor.

I started coming again, whimpering and moaning, biting Harry on his
nipples, scratching him, legs behind his ass like a clamp, forcing him
deep into me.

I came, crying pitifully and quivering.  After I peaked, I paused.
Enjoying Harry stroking my female body with his hardness, enjoying
being filled, and tight.  That's when I started to come again.  I was
so tight and so hot and I couldn't stop coming.

This time the spasms brought Harry over his own edge.  It had been a
while, and my body and me was so happy to be coming with Harry,
feeling him warm my insides with his seed.  I gasped and groaned and
told Harry I loved him.  He told me he loved me.

I lay there like a wrung-out rag afterwards.

That had been good.  Harry panted and shook for looonmg minutes
afterward.  I sorrowed over his getting soft and his slithering out of
me.  I could have used an hour of apres-sex with him soothing me and
satisfying me with a lingering hard-on.

Or seconds or fourths of what I'd just had.  I was a greedy bitch, but
I knew the limits of a terrestrial male who didn't use "Hard" or any
of the other creams.

I had a natural Harry sans chemical assistance, and I wanted to keep
it that way.  No possible deadening of the senses or attitudes.  Just
an old-fashioned male using his own body by itself to keep his Captain
happy.

His Captain needed all the happy she could get, out here in the Delta
Quadrant.  I hope I gave Harry some as well.

That was so unplanned, but immensely smile-provoking, not to mention a
hell of a good way to be comforted.  Don't ever let anyone ever tell
you that a good fuck isn't satisfying on many levels.

The damage to Harry's back was minimal, and we decoded it could wait
for later.  For sanitation's sake I covered the scratches with sheath
and gave him a kiss.

Harry eased off me, letting me feel abandoned, just a teensy bit.  I
rolled him onto his back and fed him to my mouth for a heartfelt and
grateful cleaning.  He tasted of me so good.  Just between the two of
us I love being such a slut.

After we'd visited my mini-dumper, we got our clothes back on.  After
we'd fed our tunics and trousers to the replicator for a clean cycle.
Eventually we looked normal again.  Computer quickly cleaned the air
of our strong sex scent.

I hadn't even told Computer to lock the door.  If we had a ship's
Counselor, that alone would have been the subject of an earnest
discussion.

"Give," Harry said, once we'd returned to the couch.

I asked him if he remembered my telling him of my three times I'd made
sex with a woman, and he leered as he said yes.  Men.  What is it
about them and lesbians?

"After the last time I decided little Katie Janeway wasn't all that
excited by sex with a female, even if I did have a bit of fun so far
as the physical side went.  There just wasn't the emotional commitment
or involvement there that I need. " We touched a little, smiling.  I
didn't feel the least bit sore even though we had been at it hammer
and tongs.  That was nice.

"Well, today that changed."  Harry was probably already thinking of
B'Elanna and Seven of Nine.

A moment of revelation suddenly came to me.  The entire ship had
always assumed Harry and my Borg has been an un-consummated romance.
That Harry had never gotten anywhere in his drive to bed the Borg.

Something flickered in his eyes and I stared, seeing Harry and Annika
in bed together.  And that beautiful ice queen turning away,
afterwards.  She disappointed, he diminished.

Another failed attempt on her part at joining the human collective.
Harry would, could never admit that he had her body but failed to
please it.  Only a few terrestrial males could admit that and bear to
look in a mirror afterwards.

I could never ask about this.  I dared not ask about this.  This was a
dark failure in Harry's past and I must never even hint of what I had
just realized.  This revelation must remain hidden.  Secret.  Just
like the similar secret failures of some few other males on this ship.

We all knew of the failure of Chakotay with Annika.  But that was the
sort of failure that occurs to so many of us.  Romances do not always
work out.   A bad episode, full of regret, pain and tragedy.  An open
and acknowledged glitch in two lives.  You give them each a pat on the
back afterwards and hope for better luck next time.  But this?

I must never know who are the other males on my ship holding a bitter
memory to themselves.

If B'Elanna ever lets loose a single name of that sad list, I shall
skin her and make a soft suede polishing cloth out of her ass.

*&^#@%

I gave no indication of my insight.  I must not.

"B'Elanna made a proposition to me while we were both in Engineering.
No specific offers, but an indication that she'd still like to hold my
fat naked ass in her lesbian bed.  Probably with Annika providing a
third set of hands and a cheering section."

This was the moment of truth.  "The idea excited the hell out of me,
Harry.  I felt like I had turned to instant fire.  I could see
B'Elanna in my crotch and my mouth filled with screams and cries.  I
could see my own face buried in her lovely groin.

"This wasn't something abstract, or vague.  This was about two women
who I found beautiful and sexy and enticing.  Two women I could
imagine being turned into my lovers.  Two actual living breathing
women I already cared a great deal for.  Do you understand, Harry?
Real people making me hot."

He was fascinated, and not very turned off by the idea.  Men and
lesbians, like I said.

"Harry," I whispered, holding his face against mine.  "I don't want to
lose you, I love you.  But that damned Klingon makes me feel hot and
randy.  I'm a contradiction, Harry, and I don't know how to explain it
to you any better than this...."

We had a few seconds kiss before my Comm told me Chakotay needed me on
the Bridge.

Our little interlude was over and none of my questions were answered
except the one.  In a sex contest between B'Elanna or my beautiful
Annika, and Harry, Harry was an easy win.

A Captain's life isn't any easier for being a woman's life also.

Damn Harry!  He assumed he'd win in any contest between himself and
either woman.  The casual arrogance of the male.

For now.  Doubts would come, later, and I'll have to make sure I'm
there for him when he needs me.

---

It was late, hours after the supposed end of Alpha shift.  We were
only now crawling home to our refuge, our cabin home.

Here I could be frazzled.  Here I could be someone needing to be held
after a hard day.  Here we could collapse on the couch and both of us
could be held.

How the hell had I survived all those years without the simple relief
of being held?

Still, Harry put his hand down the back of my Captain's trousers and
gave both my Star Fleet Officer's ass cheek's a friendly and
possessive fondle.  A woman needs a nice fondle periodically.  It
reminds her she's fondleable.

The need to collapse into bed was nearly overwhelming, but I pulled
the both of us erect.  Gym awaited, and it was a part of being Captain
to set a good example.  A stupendous example.  An example far and
beyond the call of duty.

We almost got distracted when we were changing to our exercise
clothes.  Another temptation.  In retro satanas!  I was bent over the
replicator dialing in clean cycle for our clothes when I felt this
male presence rubbing himself against my naked and appreciative butt.
It would have been easy to let go and tumble into bed with Harry.
Stroke each other, fondle some, wriggle together and maybe even have
some more sex.

But I might not keep this sexy hard body if I didn't do my fifty
minutes a day.  I was proud of my young woman's body, even though I
knew I should see the EMH some day for the slightly sagging breasts
and always wrinkly belly.  Even if Harry professed to adore every
single imperfection.

Harry knew I'd had a few nips and tucks by the Doc, prior to our
becoming lovers.  It wasn't the idea of surgical repairs he was
against.  He was against the notion of change occurring to his now-
happy home.  It was a constant hassle, but dear Harry liked snuggling
up at night against at least one naked Star Fleet Captain and didn't
fancy the notion of her changing from one day to the next.

Someday soon he was going to understand B'Elanna and Seven had shaken
the apple cart already.  The Captain wasn't repulsed by the notion of
sex with either woman.  The Captain was repulsed by the concept of
life without Harry.  I must be there for him when he has his own
doubts.

Preferably an affectionate older woman in a young woman's body. Onward
and upwards!  Excelsior!  On to the gym.

As we dressed, I ran my fingers over his arms and back, mentally
wishing we dared have a child.

Out here, in the Delta Quadrant?  Generations from home?  And did we
have the option of becoming a generational ark, corridors and lives
stuffed with innocent children doomed to the limited life of VOYAGER?

Go off the medicine, or retrieve an egg or two from the ship's
CryoBank, it'd be so easy and so hard afterwards.

Life was a series of regrets and speculations, aboard ship.

Harry gave my butt another caress when we were dressed.  Not that
there was any clothing between his warm palm and my backside.

My green unitard was high-waisted and ran a mere (and very revealing)
thong between my cheeks.  Harry loved it immensely and didn't like it.
All at the same time.  So revealing.  Four ply pads at crotch and
breasts, but very revealing.

Harry liked my flaunting my painfully maintained girl's body, and he
enjoyed showing me off.  This sexy gal is MY sexy gal sort of thing.

His nice genteel upbringing also cringed over my overt and daring
sexual display.  My woman is on display for everyone to ogle at and
drool over.  How very embarrassing, etcetera, etcetera.

We are all of us contradictions.

Myself?  I enjoyed staying close to my man.  Harry was the one who
fondled this sexy old body of mine, I proclaimed to the universe/ship.

He flaunted some as well, in his unitard.  Even with six-ply briefs
underneath.  When I let my hand fall to his buns as we exited the
door, he let me have a few minutes touching, then removed my hand. We
closed our robes and went to our sweaty futures.  Genteel and demure
and flaunting all at the same time.

Once I got on the second treadmill,  Tom Paris bustled in.  It had
been a long shift for all of us.  He was probably distracting himself
with some physical effort.  I tapped my badge and found Holodeck Two
had forty minutes free, starting fifteen minutes from now.

"Harry," I said, once I'd gotten him off the arm weight machine. "I've
just reserved forty minutes for the two of you down in HoloDeck Two.
Why don't you and Tom do whatever it is..."

It was all the encouragement Harry needed.  The two old friends left
with towels around their necks, on their way to a bit of handball.  Or
something.  Tom could use the moral support of Mister Kim, at this
moment in time.

They'd no sooner left than my new Problem Girls came into the gym.
B'Elanna had on a unitard just like mine.  Showing lots and lots and
lots of naked butt.  In my case I needed the distraction so no one
noticed how short and wiry and un-feminine my legs were.  At least
that was the theory.

My legs kept my backside from dragging on the ground when I walked and
that was about it.

With B'Elanna the effect was stunning.  Like the joke went, her legs
seemed to start in her armpits and keep going from there.  B'Elanna
had fantastic legs, especially for a short gal.  I had legs, period.

Red was definitely her color, as well.  Stunning.

There was a silence and I realized it had begun when my ex-Borg took
off her robe.  Unitard, magnificent body, classic face barring her
Borg eyebrow implant, which acted like a giant beauty mark.

Great legs, fabulous breasts, and I hadn't been aware she needed gym
work with all those nano probes maintaining the system so perfectly.

Then she smiled at me and slowly turned her rear to my view.

She also had a unitard like mine, only the naked butt on display was
that of a goddess.  Long, long perfect legs, a perfect firm-looking
ass out there for all the universe (and VOYAGER) to admire and stare
at.  As a lesbian, Annika Hansen was indulging in some visual
overkill.  A LOT of overkill.

Drool, she was telling the men.  You ain't never gonna get it.

Just how assimilated was Seven in her new human collective and how
much did B'Elanna have to do with this gratuitous but effective
display?

I also didn't dare say a thing about their costuming, considering they
were wearing the same exact style unitard I was, complete with extra
padding in the crotch and breasts.

I felt this was an unnecessary flaunting, but resolved to ignore it.
That pair of women probably just made enemies of at least a quarter of
the other women on this ship.  All I had on my plate each day was
another problem to deal with.

Of course they did exercises near me, but I knew that was coming.  I
smiled a little, nodded to each woman, and said something polite. When
I had completed my walking, I went to a corner for my cool-down
exercises, then waved at all who noticed me, and left.

I was determined to wait up for Harry, so I stripped, had a brief
shower, and wrapped myself in a fuzzy nightshirt on the couch.  I was
asleep when he and Tom dropped by.  I was glad I'd put some clothes
on.

We had supper together, lentil soup, salad and Swedish meatballs on a
peta slice.  Tom was nowhere near normal, but he was trying to manage.
Sensing the need for a more time with Tom, I put on a loose grey linen
pants set and went strolling the corridors of the ship.  At one point
I realized I was passing B'Elanna's cabin.  Fortunately no wails of
orgasmic women were heard in the corridor.

I hoped the sound-proofing refit her cabin got four years ago was
effective.

At least his daughter was in Samantha Wildman's capable hands, for
now.  B'Elanna and Tom had already worked out a tentative off-on
caring system.  Civilization.  It's a wondrous thing.

Harry and Tom were holding each other at the cabin doorway when I
returned, so I took another walk in the corridor.  By the time I got
back, Harry was coming out of the shower with wet hair and a towel.
There was the scent of hard likker in the air, but if one social drink
was not a proper response in these circumstances, when was it?

I held Harry's worried body to mine for many minutes.  I think he was
now realizing the new dynamics of a lesbian Seven of Nine was a threat
-- remote, but still a threat --to our own relationship.  Love affair.

If we got back to Alpha Quadrant tomorrow I wanted Harry as my husband
and father of a few squalling and greedy kids.

"I love you," I whispered to Harry, tracing the invisible scars on his
back.  It was the worst of times.  It was the best of times.

To make sure Harry knew I thought a few drinks with Tom had been an
appropriate response, I had one myself.  Bourbon over ice.  I'd just
as soon had a nice Beaujolais, but this was not being done to make me
happy, but make Harry feel he had done the right thing.

He had a robe on, the long black one with the gold belt.  It took
nothing to untie it and start groping my favorite male.  It was the
work of minutes to have him in the bedroom, draped back on the bed and
my mouth fitting itself to his erecting penis.  It tasted of funky and
male and sweat.

He just smiled and watched as the pants suit went on a rack.  Then his
lovely dick found itself in my mouth again, my tongue and teeth
finding it's texture and feel delightful.

I turned to the nigh stand for a fresh spray of lube and spray-on
sheath protector for his nice warm wet prick.

Harry took that opportunity to get behind my bent-over body and rub
himself into the crack of my ass.  I kept that position, enjoying the
feel of his erect penis enjoying my old fat rear.  He backed off
enough to kiss and fondle my butt, prompting warmth and a sense of fun
more than lust.  We were giggling together, he was forgetting his
encounter with Tom Paris, and I was blushing to feel how much pleasure
I had from Harry's playing with my backside.

Inspiration.

"Harry<" I asked, "do you really like my backside?"  Yes, he said.

"Do you love it?"  He gave me a warm kiss on each of my back cheeks.
He had his first suspicion concerning what I was leading up to.

"Would you like to enjoy my back end?  My heinie hole?  Would you like
to give me a fuck there?"

Mind you, this wasn't the first time a rear end sexing had been
suggested or acted on.  It was just the first time I'd been the one to
suggest it.  I had the happy thought I might enjoy it a little this
time.

Let's hear it for enjoyment.

We changed the mechanics of the act this time.  I lay on the bed, my
ass under a pillow and on the edge.  This time I could stay eye to eye
with my babe and encourage him as he plugged my heinie.

My legs were open, my knees laid back, and I was ready.  Harry was
certainly giving me a lot of wonderful sex exercise since we became
lovers.

A good sheath was sprayed on Harry's protuberance, and I was delighted
to find we were both giggling and snickering as the preliminaries took
place.  I went into peals of laughter as that damned cold lube gel
from the tube was earnestly pushed into my hole by a sheath- protected
finger.

That's a nice thought, I said to myself.  Keep that one.  Ream me out
with a finger first and force  lube in my ass at one and the same
time.  Already I knew this ass fucking was going to be a lot more fun
than the last one.

Not that I'd ever say anything to Harry if it wasn't fun.  He wants
his babies rear end once in a while, he can have it.

I opened my arms and smiled wide at Harry, welcoming his male meat
into the body of Kathryn Janeway.  "I'm all yours, lover."

This was definitely better doing it from the front.

Then my eyes popped and my mouth slammed shut, feeling Harry enter me
in one fell swoop.

It was easy and smooth and painless.  But still a shock.

My hands couldn't do all the things it wanted to do.  I caressed his
chest, I pulled my ass cheek's open for him and grabbed my knees,
forcing them back even more than they already were.

I was spread far open, knees high, and Harry was fucking me as hard as
he could.  But there was no forcing this time, no forcing or
stretching or tearing.

The feeling of needing to immediately visit the dumper was as intense
as ever, my eyes stayed wide open, and Harry couldn't quite bottom out
because of my butt cheeks.  But he was trying like hell.

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap!  Oh, we made delightful sounds together!
Katie Janeway, Star Fleet Captain and major slut.  Right now the slut
part was dominant.

Oh, this time it was fun, quite definitely in the fun category. Harry
leaned over and I craned to kiss him, all subtlety gone.  We shared
tongue tips and spit and cries in the night.

I rediscovered my groin with a hand, remembering how basic a little
frenzied masturbation without a toy could be.  We kept kissing and I
needed to lick all his magnificent sculpted male face.  I knew I was
going to wind up with a crick in my neck, but it didn't matter.

Harry came, and I knew it and was major disappointed, but quickly
banished the thought.  I wanted to come as well.  But things are as
they are.

I had a happy thought.  There was always next time.

Eventually Harry softened and pulled out of me.  For the first time an
ass screw made me sorry to feel him leave my body.

We lay in a happy mood for long minutes.  I wriggled around my now-
prone Harry, and hooked a fingernail under the body end of the sheath,
peeling it off Harry.  Immediately Katie Janeway, oral glutton that
she was, popped Harry into her greedy mouth and cleaned him.

Didn't know I could speak to myself in the ecumenical 'we', did you?

We giggled our way through another shower (I was going to grow old
with wet puffy skin).  I, at least, noticed how much happier we both
were after this heinie-hole reaming.  Attitude and facing each other
made a hell of a lot of difference.

We kissed, I gave his penis a kiss, and we snuggled into bed.  Harry
finding his own comfort in caressing my groin and running his strong
fingers through my pubic hairs.  Possessive and dominant and Alpha
male, but quite comforting.

I decided not to mention the leather bustier and panties and high
lace-up boots I'd found on the replicator menu.  I was already too
dominant as it was.

Otherwise, I had had a few thoughts.

"Harry, love," I whispered in his ear.  "I'd like it if we tried that
rear end sex again soon.

"I've a few ideas that involves my toys, too, when we try it next
time.  I think I could get off with you at the same time if we worked
it a little differently."

---

The End