Pairings: Chapel/Korby, Chapel/Gaila, Chapel/McCoy, Chapel/nameless others
Warnings: Um, werewolves? But no ripping out of throats. These are well-behaved werewolves. Also my first femslash ever!
Disclaimer: Not mine in any way, shape or form, and trust me, there's no payment other than some serious ego-stroking.
Length: 2171 words, of 38804
Summary: It's bad enough having to run a large sickbay, deal with a grumpy CMO and have a captain that insists that you be the only one that comes near him with a hypospray. Christine Chapel also has to cope with being a werewolf. In space.
Author's Note: Beta'd by seren_ccd, who deserved more than a bunch of balloons for this. It's currently a WIP, but it will be finished, I swear. This is a (mostly) bloodless werewolf fic, horror fans probably won't be interested!
She left her quarters walking at speed, determination clear in every line of her face. She rounded a bend in the corridor and smacked straight into another determined person coming the other way. He rebounded off her and fell to the floor, and she staggered backwards, catching hold of the wall to support herself.
“Ow,” he said in a tone of such resignation that she felt her heart soften towards him just a fraction. She knelt down next to him, and placed a hand on his chest.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Yes, but considering how my day has gone, this is probably the least painful thing that’s happened to me today,” he replied, closing his eyes and remaining on the ground. “You’re also more pleasant than a security squad.”
“You’ve been an ass,” she said conversationally. “I mention this because I remember promising you that I’d bring it up when you weren’t aware of it.”
“It has been brought to my attention by our captain, amongst others,” McCoy grumbled, eyes still shut. He paused for a minute, then opened his eyes again.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I acted like...well, an ass last night. I’ve never felt that connected to anyone while having sex, and it threw me. And when you told me that you’d felt like that with Gaila, it got me angry. It hurt my damn pride, and that’s why I got nasty.”
“I didn’t feel like that with Gaila,” Christine said softly, taking his hand and holding it tightly. “We had sex, but last night with you was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I know what my family meant now, when they were trying to explain the mating bond.”
His hand found hers, and squeezed it tightly.
“You’re not getting rid of me then?” he asked gruffly.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” she replied, tears of happiness forming in her eyes.
“Damn right,” he muttered, pulling himself into a sitting position and dragging her to him. She went willingly, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Time seemed to slow down, and then stop altogether as his familiar scent surrounded her, making her instantly aroused. She shifted into his lap and his arms came around her immediately, anchoring her to him. She writhed against him, feeling him harden under her, and her hands reached up around his broad back so she could run her fingers through his thick, dark hair.
They broke apart for air, only to be giggled at by a passing ensign, who blushed and hurried past.
“I forgot we were in public,” Christine said, in a daze.
“Nice to know it’s not just me that’s been affected by all this,” he grumbled.
“Ah, but I can walk down the hallway to my quarters without anyone noticing I’m affected,” she teased, pulling herself up and lending him a hand to follow. She glanced down at the definite tent in his trousers and smiled. “I don’t think you can say the same.”
“You’ll have to protect me then,” he said, pulling her close, her back against his front. He started to walk down the hall, forcing her to move also. His hardness kept brushing against her backside, and she temporarily lost track of her next comeback. The feeling of being held so close, of his strong arm looping around her neck and trailing down over her breasts, combined with the firm length of him pressing insistently against her was making her crazy.
As soon as the doors to her room shut behind them she pounced on him, using her superior strength to make him stagger backwards across the room. He landed on the bed with a thump, and belatedly she realised that he had spent the better part of the day being knocked flying. He didn't seem to be complaining though, as his hands were already up her skirt, yanking at the material of her underwear. He grunted in satisfaction as it ripped away from her completely, and she retaliated by tearing his blue uniform shirt straight down the middle of his chest.
This prompted a small war to see who could strip the other first, one that she was only too glad to lose. He still had his pants around his thighs when he triumphantly unzipped her last boot and flung it across the room. She concentrated on kissing him soundly, rutting her body against him like an animal in heat, which wasn't a million miles away from the truth. She ran her hands over the strong muscles in his arms and back, nipping at his earlobe and tugging at his hair as he struggled with his pants, cursing the entire time.
She laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation; they had waited so long, and been through so much, and now a pair of pants was causing them so much trouble? He laughed too, and eventually managed to free himself from his cloth confines. Their mood calmed from the frantic behaviour of the first five minutes and their kisses became gentler, softer and longer. He rolled her underneath him and she made a cradle with her legs, supporting his heavier weight. The feeling of his naked body against hers, pressing her into the mattress below her, just felt so right and so natural. She rocked her hips against his as his hand found her breast, and they lazily explored each other’s bodies. He seemed intent on mapping every square centimetre of her skin with his lips, and she sighed with pleasure as she let him, rubbing the sole of one of her feet possessively on his calf.
She whined with displeasure when he lifted himself away from her body, but he smiled and said, "Hitch up, honey," lifting her legs so they draped over his wide shoulders. He caught her off guard, so the delicious sensation of his tongue licking a broad stripe down the centre of her folds was a very pleasant shock. His hands, supporting her backside, squeezed and flexed slightly, massaging the muscle there.
He quickly latched onto the centre of her pleasure, applying a truly talented tongue. She threw her head back and moaned wantonly as he got to work, soon stripping her of her ability to do anything more than shake and tremble as her body soared to new heights of bliss. He was clearly experimenting with technique; she didn’t have the breath to tell him that everything he did was perfect. The first orgasm came from nowhere and hit her like a freight train; the second was a longer, slower build that made her scream so loudly when she came she was sure that her neighbours could hear her. He was actively working on number three when she was able to draw enough breath to speak in complete sentences.
“Enough,” she panted, clutching at the nearest part of him that she could reach. “I need you inside me, please.”
He gave her one last spine-tingling suckle and slipped her legs down from his shoulders, before grasping her waist and flipping her onto her stomach. She growled in anticipation and thrust her backside in the air, half-sighing, half-moaning in pure pleasure when she felt the blunt head of his thick length nudging at the slick and swollen entrance to her channel. He pushed in a little way, then let out a groan of his own as he slid the rest of the way home.
His hands came down to caress her backside before slipping up along the length of her body. She arched her back into the touch and he slipped his hands around to cup her breasts, squeezing firmly and tugging gently at her nipples.
Impatient, she rocked back and forth against him, impaling herself on his hard length. He laughed, getting the message, then set a punishing pace as he proceeded to prove that nobody she had ever taken to bed was as capable of pleasing her as he was. It was as if he was a mind reader; every thrust, every caress seemed designed to deliver the maximum measure of satisfaction. He seemed as affected as she was, if the constant litany of encouragement and sentiment were anything to go by. He shifted his grip on her body so her could reach around and rub firmly at her clitoris. It was this that triggered her final orgasm, and the frantic clenching of her internal muscles finally caused his iron control to crack.
He slumped down over her, spent and exhausted, trapping her smaller body underneath his. She knew that she could move him easily, but she liked the feeling of his heavy limbs wrapped firmly around her. He smelled like sweat and sex and something uniquely him, now with the added heady scent of her own musk added to the mix. She knew that she would never be able to smell him again without being reminded of this moment, and she shivered a little at the powerful sensation.
He shifted slightly so she grabbed onto his arm.
“Don’t you dare move,” she warned him.
“I don’t want to,” he returned, and shifted closer.
They lay entwined for long minutes, communicating effectively without the burden of words.
“Tell me everything,” he said eventually, running his hands over the soft skin of her arms.
Slowly, with a lot of interruptions, she did, spending hours answering as many questions as he could dream up. They ate a bizarre picnic made up from whatever they could forage from her cupboards, before returning to bed again to reacquaint themselves with each other’s bodies. Christine marvelled at how in tune they were, sexually; there was none of the usual fumbling and experimenting that usually heralded a new relationship. It was as if she had been making love to him for twenty years instead of two days, they were so perfectly in tune.
“You’re like a drug,” he grumbled, dropping kisses down the side of her neck. “I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you.”
She laughed, and returned the favour.
“Is this what it’s going to be like?” he asked, between kisses. “All the time?” He sounded amazed and bemused in equal measure.
She spared a thought for her parents, what she remembered of her grandparents’ marriage, and what she knew of her aunts and cousins who had found their mates. She had grown up amongst loving glances and soft touches, and had been surrounded by true partnerships based on an instinct that nobody really understood.
“Yes,” she said honestly. “But there may be some shouting, too, if my parents are anything to go by.”
He snorted, and turned his attention to more southerly regions.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a given,” he muttered, prompting her to giggle and cuff him gently across the head. He retaliated by tickling her with deft fingers, so she rolled them over and straddled him, pinning him to the bed by his wrists.
She looked down at him, and he looked back at her with such wonder and affection that she felt her heart skip a beat. Before, with Roger, even at the best of times, had never felt like this. She felt both wild and tamed, free and taken.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “I don’t know how I know it, but I do.”
“I am,” she promised, her voice thick with emotion. “As you are mine.”
She reached down and was unsurprised to find him hard again. She settled herself down on his length, hissing slightly as her sore muscles allowed the intruder entrance.
“There’s nobody else for me,” she said firmly as she raised and lowered herself on him. “I will never feel about anybody else the way I feel about you.” She gripped his muscled forearm tightly, as if the force of her fingers would convey the urgency of her speech. “You are my mate. What we do, we do together. Where we go, we go together.”
He grabbed her wrists and squeezed back.
“I will never leave you,” he breathed. “I want all of you, all the time. I’ve never felt...,” he trailed off as she performed a particularly wicked twist of her hips and combined it with a firm clench of her abused internal muscles.
They abandoned words then, showing their love with actions instead. Later, sleepy and sated, they curled together and started to plan out the rest of their lives together – her research, their careers, the children they both longed for. None of it felt rushed or sudden; for Christine it felt as if a missing piece of her life had slotted into place.
They eventually fell asleep, entwined and tangled together. Christine dreamed of running through a large green forest, wild and free, but she no longer ran alone. At her side, but just out of sight, ran another; he smelt of love and familiarity and home. She let out a joyous howl and was rewarded by an echo from her mate.
Finally, everything was as it should be.
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