Artistic Vision

By Maquis Leader

 

 

 

Rating R possibly light NC17 (so R17 then?)

Author’s note: Set after The Fight

 

 

 

“Pay attention, boy!”

 

Chakotay blinked at the sharp voice. “I am.”

 

“You’re not!” Boothby let go of the heavy bag he’d been holding for Chakotay, and shook his head. “You’re swinging like some punch drunk bum. Where’s your head?”

 

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little distracted.”

 

“A little distracted? A little distracted?” The old man frowned. “You’ll be a little unconscious if you step into the ring like that.”

 

After his last bout with the ‘Chaos Kid’, Chakotay wasn’t sure he wanted back in the ring.

 

“Is it a woman?”

 

“A – no!” Chakotay laughed. “Not a woman, there’s no woman in my life these days.”

 

“Good! They weaken a man.” The trainer shook his head again. “Hit the showers, son. Come back when you’re willing to give it your undivided attention.”

 

Watching the hologram stalk off muttering, Chakotay sighed. It was bad enough that his mind was wandering while he was on duty, now he couldn’t even relax.

 

Picking up his t-shirt off the nearby bench, he pulled it on. The vision he’d had during the ‘fight’ while Voyager was trapped in chaotic space continued to nag at him. It was full of inconsistencies, which wasn’t unusual for a vision, but there was something more about this one.

 

His grandfather had had the tattoo on his forehead, just as he did. Except that his grandfather hadn’t had the tattoo. While he had admired the newly inked lines on Kolopak’s face, that was all.

 

Last night he had taken another vision quest, seeking answers, but his spirit guide had only laughed, rolling over on her back and wanting her belly rubbed. The human mind was something for humans, she’d said.

 

Shutting down the holodeck, Chakotay walked out into the corridor. Maybe she had meant he should discuss it with someone else – someone human? “Computer, what is Captain Janeway’s location?”

 

“Captain Janeway is in Holodeck 2.”

 

Right next door. He walked along the corridor to the other holodeck and read the control panel set into the bulkhead. Kathryn was in da Vinci’s studio. The privacy lock wasn’t engaged, so he stepped inside.

 

Kathryn was wearing a stained smock over a pale blue dress. She was seated at a work bench and wrestling with a mass of clay. “Chakotay.” She smiled when she saw him.

 

“Kathryn, mind if I come in?”

 

“Not at all.” She grinned as she punched the clay. “I’m trying to relax, can’t you tell?”

 

“Of course.” He smiled as she gave the clay another jab.

 

“Katerina, who is your friend?” Maestro da Vinci looked up from the mechanical bird he was designing.

 

“Maestro, this is my friend, Chakotay.” Kathryn winked at Chakotay. “Chakotay, this is the Maestro. Leonardo da Vinci.”

 

“An honor to meet you, sir.” Chakotay nodded to the older man.

 

“Of course it is.” The maestro went back to his work.

 

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Sit down and talk to me.”

 

“How do you know I need to talk?”  An auburn eyebrow arched up, and Chakotay laughed. “All right, I need to talk.” Moving a pile of sketches off a nearby stool, he sat down. “I need help understanding the vision I had.”

 

“Isn’t that against the rules? I thought you weren’t allowed to talk about it.”

 

He could see Kathryn was serious and not mocking his beliefs. “It’s not a rule so much as a courtesy. My people believe that giving details about a vision can insult your guide. And visions are usually intensely personal.”

 

“However…”

 

“However…” Dimples flashed as he smiled. “There are times that a vision leaves questions which only discussion with someone close and trusted will help answer.”

 

Kathryn was touched that Chakotay would come to her. They were close friends, true, but he’d never divulged details of one of his visions before. “I’d be happy to help. You’re sure your guide won’t mind?”

 

“She was more interested in my scratching her belly, to be honest.”

 

Laughing, Kathryn dug her fingers into the clay again. Her own guide was quite persnickety about his own appearance and comforts, often shining his tiny claws and arranging himself just so in a sunny spot.

 

“A vision, you say?” Leonardo looked up from his design. “Do you eat of the poppy then?”

 

“Poppy? Opium? No.” Chakotay assured him quickly. “Nothing like that. It’s a form of – a form of – “

 

“Meditation.” Kathryn offered.

 

“Meditation. Exactly.”

 

“Ah, as they do in the East?” The older man nodded. “I’ve heard of such things. So, tell me more about this vision.”

 

Kathryn raised her eyebrows as if to ask if he wanted to delete the hologram. Chakotay shook his head. Technically, da Vinci wasn’t there anymore than the dust motes in the air.  “I saw my grandfather; he looked as he did when I was a boy. Only I wasn’t a boy.”

 

“You haven’t seen your grandfather before?” She had seen her father in a vision once, and it had scared the bejezus out of her, making her think she was flashing back to when she had ‘died’ and confronted an alien in her father’s form. “You’ve said people sometimes appear in visions.”

 

“Actually, I see my grandfather quite a bit.” He smiled. “He’s very wise.”

 

“Are you Arabic, Chakotay?” The maestro had abandoned his work to come over for a closer look at Katerina’s friend. “Your skin is an interesting shade.”

 

Kathryn bit back a giggle. She found Chakotay’s skin color interesting herself, but she’d never said so. “A nice bronze shade, don’t you think, Maestro?”

 

“Yes, but with a hint of copper perhaps.” He looked Chakotay over critically. “And the nose and cheekbones – quite striking.”

 

“I’m from – somewhere else.” Quickly he tried to remember when da Vinci had been alive. “America.”

 

“America? Ah, the New World?” Leonardo nodded. “I have heard it was full of savages all running about naked.”

 

Having chosen that moment to take a drink of her coffee, she choked and nearly spit it onto her forgotten lump of clay. “Savages?” She croaked out.

 

“When Columbus brought some of them to court with him, Queen Isabel was quite scandalized.” He laughed. “Of course, they may think we’re savages and ashamed of our skin!”

 

Chakotay laughed with him. He wasn’t offended; the hologram was only behaving true to his programming, and in many cases his people had thought the Europeans were ignorant, unwashed savages.

 

“I will sketch you.” The maestro announced.

 

“Sure – I – “ Chakotay stood as Leonardo tugged on his arm.

 

The older man moved the stool closer to the window and arranged Chakotay just so before going back to his work bench. “Relax and don’t move.”

 

“You didn’t think he was asking permission, did you?” Kathryn grinned as she reached out to pat his leg.

 

He didn’t answer, just smiled as Leonardo came back with his sketchpad.

 

“Ah, such dimples! I knew a lass once in Verona…” His voice dropped and he winked at Chakotay. “You understand?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Now, more on this vision of yours.” The maestro commanded. “And don’t move.”

 

“It was more than a vision. It was part of a memory.” He reached up to tug at his ear, stopping when Leonardo glared at him. “It was something that happened when I was a boy.”

 

“A childhood memory?” Kathryn had assumed it had been about boxing. “I thought you saw a fight.”

 

“This was different from that. Although it was a fight of sorts.” The majority of his visions while they were trapped in chaotic space had been about a twisted boxing match. “I had to watch my grandfather one afternoon, and he wanted to go out for a walk. I had just found out about the gene and that I had it.”

 

“And you were upset.” Chakotay had been terrified in Sickbay that he was losing his mind. Kathryn reached out again to pat his leg, leaving clay fingerprints.

 

“What is a gene?” Leonardo interrupted. “Is it a sickness?”

 

“A gene is – “ Kathryn searched for the proper reference.  “It’s a characteristic, like hair or eye color, that is passed from parent to child.”

 

“Ah, I understand! A family trait then?”

 

“Exactly.” Chakotay agreed. “In my family, there’s a ‘crazy gene’. It doesn’t affect everyone, but it’s there.”

 

“It happens. There’s no shame.” Leonardo tsked. “Madness can be passed on just like Katerina’s beautiful hair color. Look at the Borgias! Insane murderers the lot of them!”

 

“Uh, we – there’s no murderers in my family.” Chakotay wasn’t sure the Borgias were exactly the comparison he was after. “My grandfather saw people that weren’t there. He talked to spirits and he wandered off if we didn’t watch him.”

 

“And who’s to say there are no such things as spirits?” The maestro eyed his sketch critically.

 

Chakotay smiled at Kathryn. “I hadn’t worried about it until then. I didn’t realize it was hereditary. My grandfather was fun. Crazy but fun.”

 

“And now you were afraid you would become like him?” Leonardo asked. “Wandering about, talking to spirits?”

 

“Yes. Even when my parents told me it wasn’t – that I wouldn’t – “ There was no way he could explain to the hologram about how an unborn child’s genes could be manipulated. “I was still afraid.”

 

“And angry, no doubt.” Leonardo set aside his sketchpad and examined the white strips on Chakotay’s hands. “What is this strange material on your hands?”

 

“Tape.”

 

“Tape?”

 

“It, uh, it’s something to protect my hands when I box.” The hologram looked puzzled. Out of the frying pan… “When I fight. To help keep me from breaking my fingers.”

 

“You fight? You are a soldier?” Leonardo seemed even more puzzled.

 

“No.”

 

“Chakotay fights with his fists.” Kathryn doubled up her fists and pantomimed hitting someone. “Arranged matches.”

 

“Ah, I see! A manly pursuit!” The maestro seemed fascinated by the idea. “Like the ancient gladiators!”

 

“But without the death.” Chakotay said quickly.

 

“Much more civilized.” He picked up a sheet of clean paper. “Take off your shirt.”

 

“Excuse me?” Chakotay’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“Your shirt, Chakotay, remove it. You must be in excellent physical condition to pursue such an occupation.” Leonardo frowned when Chakotay hesitated. “Off, off!”

 

“It’s a hobby, not an occupation.” He looked at Kathryn. She shrugged and turned her attention back to her clay, adding a bit of water to make it more malleable. Chakotay pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto a cluttered workbench.

 

“Very clear definition.” The maestro poked at Chakotay’s chest. “Very good. Now, more of this vision of your grandpapa.”

 

“Well…” This was becoming more and more strange. He was sitting half-naked, being sketched by a bossy hologram, while discussing something most people didn’t even believe in. Into the fire… “I was angry and impatient; I didn’t want to talk to him.”

 

“Go on, go on.” Leonardo said as he sketched in the high cheekbones.

 

“I wouldn’t go with him, so he sneaked out, and then I had to go find him before he got lost or hurt.”

 

“Making you angrier at your grandpapa?” Not waiting for an answer, he waved his pencil at Chakotay. “Show me some of this ‘boxing’ so I may capture it. How do you stand? How do you place your body?”

 

“Do you mind?” Chakotay asked Kathryn. She shrugged again. He ordered the computer to expand the section of the room to include a heavy bag and the smaller speed bag. He stretched a bit, warming his muscles up before he started on the heavy bag. Between punches, he continued telling of his vision.

 

The maestro sketched like a madman, trying to capture the grace and skill in Chakotay’s movements. Finishing one sketch, he would let it drop to the table and begin another.

 

“It was strange – my grandfather – he had my tattoo – “

 

“Strange as in frightening?” Kathryn frowned. “Or strange as in odd?”

 

“Odd.” He snapped a combination into the bag’s leather surface. “He didn’t have it – so why – was it there?”

 

“The tattoo is not a family crest? I find it quite exotic.” Leonardo looked up from his sketching. “Don’t you Katerina?”

 

“Uh, yes.” Kathryn was squashing her clay aimlessly. Chakotay’s golden skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and he was gorgeous. She shifted on the bench, trying to ease the sudden ache between her legs. “Very, um, exotic.”

 

“The tattoo was a gift – “ Chakotay decided on a simple version of the truth. “To my father – from natives – deep in the jungle. Peaceful people – they care for the earth – “

 

“And they gave this mark to your father? He was a good man, your father?”

 

Chakotay’s punch slid off the bag, and he staggered as he lost his balance. He stood panting for a moment. “My father was a very good man. He was peaceful – and he was murdered by the Cardassians.”

 

“And you took the tattoo to honor him?” Leonardo said shrewdly. “To spite these Cardassian scoundrels?”

 

“Yes.” Leonardo was very intuitive for a hologram. Chakotay stepped over to the speed bag and soon had it humming.

 

“In your vision, did you think that it was strange that your grandpapa had the tattoo?” Leonardo asked.

 

“No. No more than being an adult in a child’s memory.” Chakotay concentrated on his rolling his fists into the bag. “It didn’t seem strange until afterwards.”

 

“That’s because you were seeing yourself in your grandpapa.”

 

“What?” He stopped and stepped back before the speed bag could hit him in the face.

 

Kathryn watched in fascination as sweat trickled down Chakotay’s chest and flat belly. Something squirted between her fingers. Looking down, she realized that she’d been adding water until she had a big mud puddle.

 

“Your fear of the madness was foremost in your mind, yes?” The old man quickly sketched Chakotay as he stood before him.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You saw him as you – or you as he, as it were. Hence the tattoo on his brow.”

 

Chakotay wiped at the sweat on his forehead. “You’re saying he was really me?”

 

“Exactly!” Leonardo put one last stroke on the sketch he was working on. “You confronted yourself and more importantly – your fear.”

 

It seemed logical. Chakotay thought again about the vision. Could he have been projecting himself and his fears? “I think you’re right.”

 

“Of course I am. I understand the sleeping mind, Chakotay.” Gathering up his sketches, Leonardo took them to his work table. “Many times I have crawled from the arms of Morpheus and created a wonder I had glimpsed in my dreams.”

 

“Like a flying machine?” Chakotay looked up at the crude glider in the corner of the shop.

 

“Just so.” The maestro smiled. “Katerina, a towel please.”

 

Getting up, Kathryn threw her smock over her clay puddle and washed her hands off in the washbasin. Picking up two towels, she handed one to Chakotay and dried her hands with the other.

 

“Thank you.” Toweling the sweat off, Chakotay snuck a glance at Kathryn. She looked soft and feminine in the blue dress.  As towel boys went, she was the prettiest one he’d seen. Tossing the sweaty towel aside, he picked at the tape on his fingers. It was damp and sticky and resisted his efforts to pull it off.

 

“Here.” Kathryn picked up a pair of scissors and cut through the tape over his knuckles. She helped peel off the stubborn stuff, laughing as it clung to her fingers. “It’s alive!”

 

“This is wonderful!” Leonardo gathered up the pieces of tape. “Imagine the things you can do with this!”

 

Kathryn laughed again. One of the reasons she enjoyed this program was the maestro’s delight in simple things she took for granted.

 

Carefully putting the tape in a pile on his workbench, Leonardo watched Katerina and Chakotay. They both watched each other when the other was unaware. There was a blush to her cheek, and Chakotay’s dimples flashed often as he spoke to her. And yet there was an invisible barrier between them. Hmm….

 

“This is an excellent opportunity for you to study human musculature, Katerina.”

 

“What?” Kathryn turned as Leonardo bustled up to her side. She had been – discreetly – doing a pretty thorough study of Chakotay’s musculature on her own.

 

“Your sketches are good, but they lack life! Here – “ Leonardo turned Chakotay and then took Kathryn’s hand and placed it on his bare back. “Trace the muscles with your fingers. See how they move under the skin.”

 

Her face was hotter than Neelix’s attempts at bar-b-q. Her brain was screaming for her to pull her hand back, but her hand wasn’t listening.

 

“Feel how the muscles fit together under the skin.” Leonardo moved Kathryn’s hand along Chakotay’s back and down his spine.

 

Chakotay stood quietly while Kathryn’s fingers skimmed over his skin. She had touched him often since they’d met, but only rarely had she actually touched his bare skin. And usually when he was in Sickbay, too sick or hurt to enjoy it. Much.

 

She should say something. She should pull her hand away. She should protest that this wasn’t proper. Kathryn did none of those things. Instead, she let the maestro guide her hand over Chakotay’s back and shoulders, enjoying the silken skin under her fingertips.

 

Turning Chakotay with a hand on one shoulder, Leonardo placed Kathryn’s hand on Chakotay’s chest. “Look at the definition and the shadows, Katerina. Look at the beauty of form and function.”

 

Swallowing hard, Kathryn let her hand glide down Chakotay’s chest and over his stomach. The muscles quivered under her fingers, and she felt an echoing inside of herself.

 

Chakotay watched the delicate fingers move over his body and bit his lip to hold back a moan. Any sound might break the spell and send her scurrying back behind the titanium wall of protocol. His cock had hardened and he knew if she looked down, it would be obvious. More than obvious.

 

“Look, Katerina.” The maestro pulled the tie on Chakotay’s gym shorts, gave a sharp tug, and they fell down around his ankles. “Look at the perfection of the male body.”

 

Chakotay’s mind went blank with shock. This must be one of the crazy dreams he had sometimes. He’d wake up in a minute. He had not just had his shorts yanked down in front of Kathryn! And I was worried she’d look down?

 

Kathryn’s hands froze on Chakotay’s belly. “This – this isn’t – “

 

“Nonsense! We are artists!” Leonardo insisted. “The human body is a work of art to be studied and enjoyed!”

 

He could see Kathryn’s cheeks were a bright pink, and his own face was hot as well. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe as her hands began to move once again. Pale fingers skated down across his lower stomach, dipping briefly into his navel. His cock twitched in response, and he bit his lip until he was sure he’d draw blood.

 

“I must fetch more paper, Katerina, so that you may sketch him.” The maestro backed away.

 

Computer, engage privacy lock. Computer? Spirits…  Computer? There was no response. Obviously the computer wasn’t taking mental commands today, no matter how desperate, and Chakotay wasn’t about to say anything aloud and risk frightening Kathryn away. If someone came in and caught him with his pants down around his ankles, they’d just have to live with the shock.

 

The shock was his as Kathryn’s hands gently cupped and held his balls. She brushed her fingertips across the head of his cock and it jumped as if asking her to hold it.

 

“You’re beautiful, Chakotay.” She said softly.

 

“Not so – not like you.” He lifted a hand to her face.

 

Kathryn smiled. “Computer, engage privacy lock.”

 

“Privacy lock engaged.”

 

Undoing the laces on the front of her dress, she let it fall to her feet. Her bottom lip trembled and Chakotay rubbed his thumb over it. “I have freckles.” She whispered.

 

“I like freckles.” He trailed a finger over one delicate collarbone with its sprinkle of freckles.

 

Chakotay knew Kathryn was self conscious about her body. No doubt she thought she couldn’t compare to a younger woman. Settling his hands on her hips, he pulled her to him, rubbing his aching cock against the gentle swell of her belly. “Your skin is like milk and peaches, and your nipples the palest of rose.”

 

The auburn eyebrows arched up. On the one hand it was the most romantic thing any man had ever said to her. On the other it sounded like blarney worthy of her Irish ancestors. The black velvet eyes were serious, and there was no denying the wonderfully hard shaft pressing against her belly.

 

Chakotay’s hands slid over her body, tracing the muscles and curves, much as she had touched him earlier. Kathryn was slim and surprisingly muscled, her body firm and dainty, and his fingertips fit nicely into the dimples in her lower back.

 

Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, sliding her tongue over the salty golden skin. When he moaned, she laughed softly and nipped at his chin.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Kathryn kissed her way along Chakotay’s throat to his jaw, ignoring his attempts to capture her lips. Finally, she allowed him to kiss her, sighing as the sensuous mouth covered hers possessively.

 

His tongue traced her lips, and he nibbled at her bottom lip, catching and sucking it. When she laughed, he slid his tongue into her mouth to taste her. Kathryn’s tongue slipped over and around his, and her arms looped around his neck to pull him closer.

 

The kiss was nothing like Kathryn had imagined it would be. Hard and passionate one moment, gentle and tender the next. It made her imagination pale in comparison. Chakotay lapped and suckled at her mouth until she was breathless.

 

Moaning softly at the loss of her lips, Chakotay nuzzled along her cheek to her ear. It was his turn to laugh as she shivered. “Is this a good spot?” He licked at the soft spot behind her ear.

 

“Oh, yes.” Sighing, she rolled her head to one side to give him better access. “It’s the best spot.”

 

“We’ll see.” Chuckling, he sucked her earlobe into his mouth and bit gently.

 

Taking his hand, Kathryn led him to where a large drop cloth lay in the corner of the room. There was a moment of silliness as both of them kicked away the clothes from around their ankles.

 

“What about the maestro?” He asked as he knelt on the paint splattered cloth next to her. “He was getting paper.”

 

“Sure he was.” Kathryn pointed at the stack of paper on one of the shelves. “The old rogue.”

 

Laughing, he pulled her to him for a quick kiss. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

 

“I won’t. He’s a diehard romantic, after all.”

 

“This isn’t very romantic, Kathryn, but I need to take my shoes off.” He held up one foot in its black boxing shoe.

 

“One of the advantages of the 15th century.” She kicked off her slippers. “How come people in the holo-romances never have to take their shoes off?”

 

“Because – “ He tossed his shoes and socks away. “It’s not very romantic.”

 

“Ah, that must be it.” Lying back, she smiled as he stretched out next to her. “Nothing romantic about shoes.”

 

“I’ll try to make the rest more romantic.” He promised as he kissed her.

 

 

 

 

Leonardo held up the sketch of Chakotay that Katerina had left on his workbench. “Hmm… he doesn’t look angry…”

 

 

 

Back to Chakotay's bedroom for another romantic story

maquisleader@maquisleader.net

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