Erin
Notes: Well, it started out PG, escalated to PG-13, and now it's R. Definitely. I've been wanting to get out of the country, and it looks like this is the closest I'll be to Italy for a while. Ah well. This is my first venture into first person.
Disclaimer: In the words of our own Sr Mary Kathryn, "In the end, no one will care who owns them."
Warning: If you don't like J/C, ice cream, or groping, get out now. This vignette has absolutely zero technobabble included. It is romance, end of story.
For: Lynn! Was feeling guilty for stalling on that dinner party, so I cranked this out as penance.
Feedback to: Erin I always write back.
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Spanish Steps
I sat cross legged on one of the wide, short columns lining the enormous staircase. It really wasn't a staircase; more like a few sets of stairs joining together all the way up an enormous incline. At the bottom of the incline was the explosion of color I'd come to expect from this place. Flowers of every kind poured from baskets, carts, buckets, spilling onto the dirty cobblestones at the base of the steps. The floral scent was not over powering, but it masked the other, less pleasant odors of the crowded city streets. People roamed aimlessly, talking, whispering, gesturing at various views and sights.
I, however, could barely hear them. Their voices were background noise that didn't even register in my mind. One of my hands rested palm up on my knee. The other held the most divine sight one could behold when visiting Italy. Resting gently in a cone shaped heaven of sugar were two scoops, one chocolate, the other coffee flavored, of Italy's most famous creation. Gelato. I examined it closely in the blinding light, anticipating that first burst of perfection on my tongue.
Oddly, it had barely begun to melt, even with the strong sunlight beating down upon it. The warmth crept through the thin white tee shirt I wore, snaked inside the soft cotton pants I'd discovered in the back of my closet that morning. The pants had given me the idea of coming here. An unusual segue, I suppose, but I had worn them on our last shore leave, and they breathed well in hot weather. That last leave had reminded me of Italy, Leonardo's Italy. The planet boasted tall trees resembling terran broccoli, and at first glance I smiled, remembering the train trip to Rome with the Maestro. Leonardo had never been on a train, so I chose that form of transportation to make our journey. As we rode through Tuscany south toward the capital city, I pointed out the trees, and mentioned how they made me hungry for broccoli. He thought my comparison absurd, but from then on never neglected to refer to the trees as "those vegetable trees." He teased, but meant to amuse me. It worked.
Leonardo was spending the day on his own, as I programmed him to, leaving me alone with my gelato. It was my day off. Yes, I was taking twenty four hours of leave, Doctor's orders. Nothing outrageous had been going on lately, but the daily rigors of running a starship were taking their toll. I was used to running on empty most of the time, and when the Doctor suggested some R&R, I balked. But he reasoned me into it rather simply: we never knew what dangers lurked across the vast space ahead of us, and we should take our down time when we could get it. It took me about three seconds to realize he was right. I took the day off, and I was going to spend a few hours in Italy, soaking up some holographic sunlight and eating as much as possible. But gelato always comes first, no matter what time of day.
My mouth curved up as I brought the cool sweet to my mouth, and the temperature shocked my lips. Glorious. Nothing like it. The flavors of cacao and coffee beans blended into a harmonious duo that made my taste buds sing. My eyes closed involuntarily at the feel of the cold sliding down my throat, and all was right with the universe. I sat in perfect peace for a few minutes, slowly devouring the ice cream to make it last as long as possible. My eyes remained closed for most of that time, and it barely registered when a shadow crossed in front of the sun, shielding me from the light.
"It's barely 0900 hours, Kathryn."
I heard the grin behind that voice. Caught. Eating ice cream on the holodeck at nine in the morning. Should have known he'd show up. Beta shift had freed his mornings for the last two weeks, and we'd barely seen one another. I opened my eyes, and took in his bulk lit from behind by the blazing sunlight. Mid-summer had the sun high in the sky even at this early hour, and it hid his features from me.
"I know what time it is. I had to start early. I only get one day off, so I figured I'd better fill it up with good things while I had the chance."
He moved out of the light to draw closer to me, leaning against the column upon which I was seated. "So you're having ice cream for breakfast."
I smiled a half smile. Obviously Chakotay was one of the uninitiated. "Oh, Commander, this is no ordinary ice cream. This-" I paused for effect- "is gelato, one of Italy's greatest inventions."
He gazed thoughtfully at the treat I still held in my hand. "It looks like ice cream to me."
I sighed. As I said, uninitiated. I was going to have to fix that. I deliberately licked the melting mound of gelato smooth, all the way around. I didn't want his first taste interrupted by messy dripping. I turned my head to look at him out of the corner of my eye. "Care to try it?"
His eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. I knew his eyes had followed my tongue around the cone, but I couldn't yet gauge his reaction. He swallowed. Cleared his throat. "Yes." I liked that reaction. The sun was making me giddy. Or the city. Or the sugar. Whatever it was, I was feeling good. Unstoppable. The heat of Chakotay's eyes on me didn't unnerve me today; it only made me feel powerful, desirable. Desiring.
I held out the gelato to Chakotay.
He smiled, and took my hand in both of his, tilting his head this way and that, trying to choose the right plan of attack. Tentative at first, he barely touched his lips to it and brought his mouth away still coated with smooth, chocolate sweetness. He licked his lips, eyes brightening. "Mmm." Again he leaned down, still holding my hand between his, and opened his mouth wide against the ice cream. I think my hand jerked in response, but I can't remember. All I can recall is wondering if the holodeck temperatures were malfunctioning, because in the space of five seconds, it felt like the heat had spiked ten degrees. My heart raced as I watched him taste the flavor of my dessert, as his hands seemed to be massaging my fingers without actually moving.
He raised his head, and looked into my eyes. My pupils must have been huge by that time, even in the brightness of the day. I saw his mouth moving, he was saying, "You were right. This is good." But it seemed as though he was speaking in a tunnel-the words sounded so strange, almost overwhelmed by the pounding of the blood in my ears. I tore my eyes from his to rest upon his throat. Bad idea. From his the angle of his neck, I could actually see his pulse beneath his skin, and from the look of it, he had mine outrun by at least a beat a second. It fluttered wildly, and I visualized his heart beating at the same pace beneath the light tunic he wore, beneath the imagined stretch of brown muscle of his chest. I'd seen it before, but it had been a long time. I didn't usually count seeing someone's chest in sickbay as *really* seeing it. In my mind, I saw the skin of his breast beneath my hands as though it were yesterday, felt the ribs shielding a heart I dearly wished to hold against mine.
My eyes closed for a moment as the heat threatened to overtake me. But he made no movement. When I opened my lids again, he pulled my hand to his lips a third time, and I was mesmerized by the sight of his tongue slipping from his mouth, travelling the exact path mine had taken only minutes before. He made a thorough journey around the entire cone, lapping up the gelato seductively, gripping my hand tighter and tighter. I don't think I was breathing at the moment, but I know I was shaking. My lips burned. I was so far gone by that time that protocol wasn't even an issue. You'd think it would have occurred to me, but as Chakotay had once said, my "safety net" was long gone. And protocol was a safety net just like Mark was, but once I let go of the one, I suppose the other was going to follow eventually.
I remember now. I *know* I wasn't breathing while he licked that damned ice cream, because after a minute, I gasped for air. That was what did it. Suddenly the sugar cone was crushed beneath our hands, and the ice cream spilled down our fingers as he lurched forward to fasten his mouth on mine. Instantly my tongue was in his mouth, searching, tasting, drinking from his. He tasted of coffee and chocolate, a little mint, and something unrecognizable. I learned more about that undefined taste later, but our first kiss was sweeter than any first I'd experienced in my past. His body crushed me against the wide railing of the steps, ignorant of the sticky, cold mess he was smearing all over my tee shirt. I, of course, was doing the same thing to his tunic, covering his shoulder with bits of cone and dripping gelato. But his tongue was weaving a path of delight inside my mouth, across my face, behind my ear, and I was beside myself with joy. I suppose permission had been granted by that time for a full fledged grope session, because I don't think he even considered asking if it was all right to do more than kiss me. He kneaded my breasts as I struggled for air, blinded once again by the Italian sun hovering above us. When his hand finally pressed between my legs, I shrieked instantly, head jerking, back arching. Surprised the hell out of him. I came hard against his hand, shuddering over and over. When I opened my eyes, he was gazing back in wonderment. My reaction shocked him a little. Wait, who am I kidding? It shocked him a lot. Two minutes of kissing, a little caressing, and I was screaming like a banshee. In public. Well, sort of public. I knew we were alone, regardless of the holographic characters around us, and we were both fully clothed. But if any of the crew had been lurking about, they'd have recognized that cry for what it was. Pure pleasure, pure release. He was amazed. Hell, I knew it wouldn't take much to set me off, but I admit, I was a little surprised as well. I had never, ever experienced such instant rapture, especially in the arms of a man who wasn't even my lover. Yet.
I smiled sheepishly, still shivering in his embrace, lying on the warm surface of the bannister. Luckily it was wide enough for me to recline comfortably, and I watched him as he took me in. I saw him shift his stance, and glanced down to have a look at his trousers. A rather prominent bulge twitched there, and my chest swelled in pride. *I* did that to him, and I could help make that bulge go away in a very pleasant manner. I had every intention of doing so, but not on a concrete bannister in the middle of one of Rome's most famous attractions. But, then again…
Hmm…
I pushed my hand against his swollen erection and was rewarded with a half gasp, half groan. He rolled his hips, and my heart contracted at seeing the easy pleasure that crossed his features. There was no hesitation in either of our reactions, no questions of, "Are you sure?" or "Would you rather move slowly?" It was time to get on with this, time to claim each other for good. He was mine, *is* mine, just as I am his, and I suppose that day I was just too exhausted to keep up the game of cat and mouse. I haven't thanked the Doctor for making me take the day off. I'll have to do that soon.
Chakotay was focused on the feel of my hand caressing him when I suddenly pulled away. Public places were beginning to give me ideas, and I did have another two hours or so on the holodeck.
"Chakotay, have you ever seen the Trevi Fountain?"
I never knew before that day that I was an exhibitionist. Or that a fountain is perhaps the ideal place to put an end to four years of celibacy. In fact, a fountain is an ideal place to make love, period.
Good thing there are so many fountains in Rome.
~END~
5/3/98