Fan Fiction
TITLE: Desnuda
AUTHOR: Briana L. Wright
RATING: R
CODES: C/T, AU
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Challenge response. Written in Chakotay's POV. The title (des-noo-da) is Spanish for nudity. Part I of II.
SUMMARY: Chakotay observes his lover's naked form as she's in the shower.
Don't get me wrong -- B'Elanna is gorgeous in whatever she wears. But I tend to think of clothing as an obstruction to her beauty. A true measure of her beauty can only be found beneath the fabrics: at her skin.
I can see just that, as I peer into our bathroom. She's in the sonic shower. Her back is to me, so she's unaware of my presence. She's left the shower door slightly ajar, leaving me a glorious view of her wet, nude body. Almost as if watching in slow motion, I'm awe-struck as the water crashes onto her tanned skin, cascading down every single curve. She reaches to her head, running her fingers through the short hair, and I marvel at the pure power of her. The taut muscles in her shoulders and back are at work -- the ones hidden from view under her daily uniform. I absently note that she's washing her hair. And from the scent of it, she's using the wild orchid shampoo I like.
She glances over her shoulder -- I hold my breath for a moment thinking she might see me -- but I'm spared from her view. Soon she's lathered in soap and bubbles, making her skin even more luminous and enticing. With another step further, I'm treated to more running water: down her head, past the small of her back, further down the curve of her buttocks.
She turns towards the head of the shower and I can see her entire profile: her small, supple breasts, the toned expanse of her abdomen, right to those lean, muscled legs...and the dark, dampened patch of hair that reveals her sex between them.
Suddenly I'm aware of how incredibly arousing my observation has become. Even under the influence of condensation, the room feels considerably warmer.
It's B'Elanna's voice that summons me from my reverie. "It's not polite to stare," she says. The curl of her lips and mischief in her dark eyes tells me that she's not as annoyed as her tone would imply. I inhale the perfume of wild flowers, sweet and exotic. It's incredibly inviting. "I wasn't staring," I correct her, and soon my own nudity matches hers as I disrobe. "I was appreciating."
"You could appreciate me a hell of a lot better from inside here." The tone in her voice is lustful. Her intent is clear.
It's an invitation I can't refuse.
