This is totally outside the realm of possibility, but since when am I one to care? Truthfully, I loved Kes, but the whole Kes/Neelix really drove me (and everyone, I think) nuts.
Let's just pretend that Kes never left and Neelix made an oops while chopping the Leeola root.
Cuteness is an utterly vile trait; inefficient, vain, presumptuous. It is absolutely preposterous to desire such a thing, and yet, I am unable to control the sensations that invariably occur when I am subjected to this most loathsome quality. I become queasy, light headed, I can feel my heart thudding beneath my breast, and I am overcome with an incorrigible desire to squeal. It is wholly uncouth, and yet...I take sick pleasure in it.
She is a milky streak across the linens, her blunt nakedness presented as simple unashamed fact, her arms splayed out on either side of her in no attempt to cover the soft mound of curls between her slightly parted thighs. Her hair is disheveled, the shock of blonde fanned out in a golden halo, exposing those most intriguing ears; long, elegant, and capable of eliciting a most agreeable reaction when nipped, licked, and kissed. Her breasts rise and fall with each equable breath, the small ridged nipples semi-erect and prodding the chilly atmosphere defiantly.
It does not rouse lust, nor any libidinous desires in me, not as her kisses do.
It merely makes my insides tingle, my lips twitch, and my cheeks ache.
She embodies that unvirtuous property known as cuteness. My arch enemy, as well as my greatest desire.
"What are you thinking?" she says, the words soft but husky, gentle and fleeting, each syllable drifting lazily to my ears and stirring me from my thought. Apparently awake, she pushes herself up on her elbows and peers at me through heavy lashes, her dark eyes shining intently, lips parted into a gentle smile.
I ponder for long, long moments, far too enamored with her image, but finally I muster the strength to speak.
"I do believe I am a cute fetishist."