Paramount/Viacom owns ‘em, I’m just risking the family non-fortune to borrow them awhile. This is a non-profit venture here, guys. My dedication is at the end of this very, very short story. I’m Sorry, You’ll Have To Leave by Turtle Woman Rating: NC-17 Written: 9/15/98 "Please, you are going to have to leave. This isn’t working. I’m sorry." Kathryn rolled out of his arms and shook him gently. "Come on, wake up." "Um? Wha…?" He rolled toward her and threw his arm over her again, nuzzling closer, his nose buried up against her ear. She signed in exasperation and pushed him away again. "Computer, illumination increase 25%. Chakotay, wake up!" This time he was startled and sat up suddenly, hyper alert. "What’s wrong? Are we under attack?" His eyes and nipples, twin chocolate sets in honey. His scent and hers, mingled musk and yeast, rising with him. She shivered at the sudden loss of their shared heat, her own nipples contracting. "No, its nothing like that. But you have to go. This isn’t working. I’ve tried for three nights and I can’t stand it any longer. I’m sorry, but you have to go back to your own quarters." He looked at her grief stricken, his hair tousled and his eyes still sleepy and bewildered. "Are you sure? Couldn’t we try again? Maybe if I turn a different way." "Chakotay, we tried everything but suspending you from the ceiling! We’ve tried and it didn’t work." She looked at him, with those spaniel eyes of his and felt her resolve weakening. Before she gave in totally, she gave him another push, "Come on, I’m tired. Go home. I’ll see you in the morning." "I hate this! I wait five years and you throw me out of your bed in three days! At least kiss me good by." He leaned over her and began to trace lazy halos around her taunt nipples. "Its so little and so light, Kathryn. You could learn to ignore it in time." She pushed his hand aside and turned her back to him, "Its not little to me. I have a hard enough time as it is. This makes it impossible. Now, go away. I’m sorry, I know its not deliberate, but you have to go away." When she turned from him, he started kneading her shoulders. He eased back in bed, snuggling against her back. One hand reached under her arm and cradled her breast, the other he slid under the pillow and laced his fingers through her up stretched hand. He started nibbling her neck and ear murmuring, "Do you really want me to go?" She tried to tell him she was sleepy but found herself pressing back against him, her hips pulsating in rhythm to his hand kneading her breast. With a huge sigh and she gave in and turned toward him, "Damn, they’ve even found a cure for the common cold. You’d think they could fix snoring."   **Dedicated to the Ladies of the Pond who were kind enough to share the trials and tribulations of their marriages today and to my own dear Chakotay of 33 years and counting. I nestle nightly in his arms, his Saracen nose nestled securely next to my ear, emitting the tiniest, most aggravating little snores, until fatigue causes me to seek the couch for at least one night of uninterrupted sleep a week.**