Disclaimer and notes: Not mine. Not even my universe, or Voyager's regular universe, but I do love the characters just the same. This was written for Cptdrgn for the VAMB Secret Drabble Exchange 2011.
Caught by Cheshire
The blood was pounding in my head and my throat was dry. There'd been only one rule in this sick game, and I'd broken it.
That scumbag Paris delights in throwing me down in front of her on the bridge. He's nothing more than a glorified delivery boy. Forcing me to kneel in front of her, he probably thinks he'll get some reward for it.
The tip of her boot tucks under my chin and forces me to look up at her. Blood flows freely out of the cut on my chin, making its inexorable way down my neck, and for a second I see something flash in those hard, cold eyes of hers. Her hand flexes, tightens on the armrest of her chair, the leather of her glove crackling. "Chak-o-tay." Her voice is a deadly purr, both deceiving and lethal. "I told you…don't get caught."
She makes a little tsking noise in the back of her throat, and her muscles move under the skin in a way that makes me despise that my hands are cuffed behind my back.
She notices the gleam in my eye and she knows what it means, but she plays to her crowd. Her crew of reprobate 'fleeters that man the bridge. "You disobeyed me."
Her boot shifts so that her heel presses against my throat.
I grin and lean into it. "I guess you'll have to punish me."
I see the slight intake of breath that gives her away, but I'm the only one that does. She gives me a slight push with her heel before withdrawing it. Enough warning so that I don't fall over. Leaning forward, her gloved finger traces the gash on my chin. I hiss in pain, more for show than anything, and the dark light that dances in her eyes shows her approval. "Did you…resist, Chak-o-tay?"
"Only when I thought they were taking me to the cargo bay," I sneer, feeling her increase the pressure against my wound.
She raises an eyebrow. "I thought you liked Seven of Nine."
Her voice sounds almost like she's pouting, but I know better. I eye her chest, let her see me do it, and then make a show of licking my lips as I bring my gaze back to her face. "There's only one bitch on this ship that I serve under."
She matches my action. Her tongue darting out, moistening that perfect mouth of hers as her thumb lazily strokes along my lower lip. "Good answer."
For a moment, I manage to capture her thumb in my mouth, my teeth grazing her glove when she pulls away. I've just given her a promise I know she'll understand.
She smirks and leans back into her command chair. "Tuvok, take Chak-o-tay to my ready room. I'll see to his punishment personally."
"Aye, sir." He pauses before leaving his station. "Shall we give the new drones another target to assimilate? Or shall I have Seven of Nine recall them?"
She considers her answer, pulling at the fingers of one of her gloves, slipping it from her hand. "Input the biometrics for…Lieutenant Paris."
"What!" Tom shouts, forgetting himself.
"Instruct Seven of Nine that if her drones fail to assimilate him, I will consider her strike force to be…imperfect." She looks up sweetly at her cocky pilot. "Better run along, Tom. There's nothing quite like a motivated Borg."
He glances at the doors, probably expecting the drones to come through them at any second even though he knows they aren't allowed on the bridge. "But why, sir? Why me?"
Kathryn Janeway gets to her feet, and although the pilot stands almost head and shoulders taller than her, he cowers at her approach. "Because, Tom, one day you will learn the rank structure on this ship. If you want to mistreat someone, find an ensign that needs the discipline. Rank has its privileges, and a lieutenant does not punish a commander."
"By that rationale, the only person that can punish Chak-o-tay is you," he snarls, bristling at being dressed down in front of everyone.
"That's right." She pats his cheek with her still gloved hand. "See…you can be taught."
"There are Borg stationed in both turbolifts and in the conference room," Harry reports happily from his station. Gleeful that it isn't him this time. "And Seven is en route to the Jeffries tube."
Tom swallows convulsively, losing some of his nerve. "Captain, please…"
I don't know how she manages to look innocent, but she does.
"M-may I…exit through your ready room?" he asks, sweat already rolling down his face.
"Oh, I think not." She snaps her fingers and Tuvok hauls me to my feet. "I'll be busy administering punishment to the commander. I suggest you try the Jeffries tube. It sounds like Seven isn't quite in position yet."
He pales considerably. "But Captain…Seven…"
I understand his fear. She really is the worst one. The Doctor claims that her nanoprobes are engineered differently. Makes the removal of the implants a hell of a lot more painful. I give Paris a grin he can't possibly miss. Fucker deserves every implant he sprouts.
He dives for the access hatch. The door has barely closed behind him when we hear him scream. Kathryn looks towards Ops. "Harry?"
"Looks like Seven got there before he did, Captain."
She shrugs unconcernedly. "Alert medical, but tell the Doctor to wait a few hours before retrieving the lieutenant from the cargo bay."
"In the mean time, get another pilot up here." She struts over to her command chair and retrieves her discarded glove. "Tuvok, instruct Seven to have her collective stand down. Let her know that she has maintained her perfect record."
"Shall I assist you with punishment first?" he asks, knowing full well what her answer will be.
"I believe I can handle the commander on my own."
"I'm sure you can, Captain."
He's one of only two people that could get away with that comment. I'm the other one. And only when she's in a good mood. Luckily for him, my capture and Tom's banishment have put her in a good mood. She merely raises an eyebrow at him and pushes me towards her ready room, sliding the glove back onto her hand. "You have the bridge, Tuvok. This punishment is going to take awhile."
As the ready room doors slide open in front of me, I grin. We've managed to put her in a very good mood.