Title: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Rating: M
Author: Singing Violin
Summary: Pure fluff. Janeway with herself...and a special visitor.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, and anyone who actually owns them would probably be appalled. Or amused. I'm hoping the latter.
Dedication: To Hestia.

Kathryn Janeway couldn't sleep.

It wasn't so much that she wasn't tired: these days, her duties left her exhausted by the end of the morning shift, and then she had to keep going, as the captain is, in a sense, always on duty... but there was something missing, something she had grown far too used to before embarking upon this cursed journey, and something she had done without now, for far too long.

It wasn't so much the lack of a warm body beside her either, though she missed that, too. She had, in fact, tried replicating a hot water bottle once, when the environmental controls were malfunctioning in her quarters and she hadn't wanted to bother B'Elanna and the rest of the Engineering team, who were busy with too many other repairs. The replicators had been the first thing back online, with the reasoning that hungry crewmen would be slower and less effective at repairing everything else. Plus, they might need to replicate tools to do repairs. Once the replicators were functional, every other non-essential piece of equipment took a back seat, and that included the heat in the captain's quarters: as such, she dressed in a warm, full-body onesie with feet (also replicated), hid under several thick blankets, and cuddled the hot water bottle. Even then, it wasn't the same as a live person. Limp, docile, inanimate. No, she definitely missed the warmth of a human beside her. Though perhaps a dog or cat might suffice, in a pinch... if she had any way of obtaining one... but now that her quarters were plenty warm, there was really only one thing she still needed to sleep, and she needed it now.

Without deliberately intending to, she'd snaked an arm under her nightgown and in between her thighs, and was lightly stroking her sensitive center through her Starfleet-issue undergarments. She brushed one finger against her clitoris and felt the moisture gathering inside her panties. Motioning more deliberately, she lowered her hand to her inner thigh and began to pet herself, up and down against it, and in the process, imagined it was someone else's hand that tenderly caressed her.

The last hand, other than her own, that had caressed her, was Mark's, but he was now married to someone else, and somehow, the thought of him did nothing for her anymore. Meanwhile, there were many members of her crew that, if duty hadn't prohibited it, might warm her insides delightfully...

First, she imagined Ayala, so silent and obedient. She couldn't remember his ever having said a word to her besides "Yes, Captain" in response to an order. She imagined he'd turned the tables, and was giving her orders, and she shivered with delight, conjuring what he might put her through. She pictured herself on her knees, licking his engorged member like an ice cream cone, watching it gyrate in response, while his hands tangled in her hair. Meanwhile, her own hand had moved up and over the rim of her panties, and was now toying with her moistened entrance, the soft smack of sticky flesh trapping and releasing air trickling into her ears as she played.

Her thoughts moved to Tom Paris, whose outer bravado, she imagined, hid a tender sensibility that made him a surefire hit with any lady willing to put up with his public antics. She saw him exploring every inch of her body: kissing her nipples, making lazy circles with his fingers around them, then tracing lines down her torso, towards her legs, which he gently parted before taking his fingers, and then his tongue, into her waiting opening, all the while mumbling about how beautiful it was, how beautiful she was. She felt, in her mind, his tender embrace as he held her closely, bracing her as she convulsed with pleasure, making her feel safe and secure, but never less of a woman. She wrapped her free arm around herself as she imagined this, then with the hand already inside her clothing, pushed into her vagina, eliciting a small cry of delight. She hugged herself slightly tighter in response, imagining Tom doing the same thing. Her finger moved in and out of her, but the image of Tom was too soft to arouse her further.

Then her first officer was foremost on her mind. Big, strong, masculine, his tattoo hypnotizing her with an air of mystery. So tender-hearted, reluctant to engage in any sort of violence...but in the bedroom, perhaps, another story. She remembered how he held her, so many years ago, under the table on New Earth during the storm, and then, the next day, used his strong hands to massage her tense muscles into an oblivion of bliss. He was kind and soft, even then, with his domestic sensibilities and cooking skills amidst his chivalrous care for her, but with his Angry Warrior legend, he hinted at an underlying danger, an anger and passion buried underneath duty and devotion. She imagined him lying on top of her, pushing roughly into her with a large, stiff member, causing a small amount of pain in the process, then pounding her harshly until she lost her senses in multiple exquisite orgasms. Her own finger was too small to approximate his assumed size, so she pushed several more into herself, then oscillated in and out until she was on the verge...

And then, suddenly, she wanted something softer, sweeter...more feminine. Seven of Nine, perhaps. Oh, what those Borg senses must be capable of! And that gorgeous body, perfectly curved in all the right places. She imagined running her hands along those curves, watching Seven squirm with delight, then tickling each other silly until they lay exhausted in each other's arms. She thought that perhaps, Seven would look into her eyes with an insatiable hunger for something intangible, and then the former drone would, with her uncanny problem-solving ability, aided by assimilated knowledge from countless species, use her technology-enhanced appendages to make it tangible, to bring a feeling of bliss to the captain unlike anything she'd ever known. Monitoring all her biorhythms and finding their resonance, metal and flesh combining to create something the Borg had never intended, but that was as perfect and worship-worthy as the Omega particle they so desperately sought. As Kathryn imagined this triumph of possibility, her fingers exited her tunnel and were roughly spreading slick wetness over her hardened nub, causing her to shudder with each subtle movement.

But Seven was not the only attractive female on board. What would it be like to be with a Klingon? Or at least, a half-Klingon? Would there be blood involved? Biting, digging in of nails, screams heard in Sto'Vo'Kor? She pinched herself as she imagined the muted ridges of B'Elanna's forehead rubbing up against her arm as they roughly fingered each other, uttering primal growls in the process. Then, she imagined B'Elanna's head moving between her legs, the fire of a huntress in her eyes as she regarded her prey: Kathryn's entire vulva, which she had plans for every part of. Kathryn couldn't suppress her own growls and yelps as she used her fingers to explore herself once again, imagining contact with B'Elanna's teeth and tongue as a superior substitute.

She was just about to reach her climax when she felt a presence beside her, and instinctively pulled her hand out of her underwear and sat up harshly. She looked over at the body that had so rudely startled her and invaded her space. It smiled in amusement. "Oh, don't stop on my account, Kathy, although I have to say, I was a bit miffed that you hadn't thought of me yet. Perhaps you were saving the best for last? Just tell me you weren't going to move on to young Harry Kim, or, I Forbid, that Talaxian beast Neelix." He crossed his arms and shuddered visibly for emphasis.

She stared, agape, having nothing coherent to say.

"Come on, Kathy, you know I'm the only one that can fulfill all your fantasies. I can even look like all those inferior creatures you've been fantasizing about. Why don't you give me a chance?"

Finally she found words. "I saw how you made love to Lady Q, Q. It wasn't all that exciting, if I recall."

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. You were only an observer. You have no idea what we experienced during what you perceived as a fraction of a second. Don't forget, we exist outside of time. Besides, I wouldn't make love to you the same way I made love to her. That would be barbaric."

"And what about her?" Kathryn asked angrily, pushing back her horror that she was even entertaining his comments instead of kicking him out. "As I recall, she wasn't all too happy about your courting me."

He sighed. "It's over...again. I'm a free Q. And I would like nothing less than to satisfy you." He punctuated his words with a finger tracing her jaw line, which somehow, she didn't think to push away, almost allowing herself to enjoy the caress.

"Why?" she asked immediately, reminding herself that she had just been intruded upon... at a particularly private moment, no less. "Why me, why now?"

He gasped. "Because you wanted someone, and I want you to think of me whenever you want someone. Just give me one chance, and I promise you'll never imagine anyone else again."

She thought for a moment. Probably more professional of me not to think of my crew this way...but could he really cure me of these episodes? Wait, what am I thinking? This is Q we're talking about...he's got to have something up his sleeve. Well, let's entertain this line of reasoning until he shows his true colors. Worked before...

"So, you're jealous?" she asked dubiously. "Jealous of my imaginary lovers, no less?"

He sighed. "In short, yes. Oh Kathy, I want you. Among all the creatures of all the species in the galaxy, I want you. That's got to count for something, doesn't it?"

She shook her head. "I didn't believe you before, and I don't believe you now. Do you need a half-human, half-Q child or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I've got my heir, and I'm not doing that again." He paused dramatically before continuing, "Unless, of course, you still want a child..."

"Not with you, Q!" she retorted indignantly. "I saw what kind of a father you are!"

He nodded. "Fair point." His eyes glittered with mischief. "But what I lack in paternal qualities, I make up for in romance. Just let me show you..." With that, he reached behind his back, then brought his hand forward again, presenting a bouquet of fresh, red roses.

Kathryn rolled her eyes as the pleasant aroma wafted into her nose. "It's not going to work, Q. Please, go back where you came from."

He pouted. "As you wish. But you don't know what you're missing." With that, he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

She sighed unhappily. He'd interrupted her at a most inopportune moment, and she wouldn't think for a moment that it wasn't deliberate. Now she doubted she could even reach an orgasm, shaken as she was. But Q's words still rang within her ears: give me a chance. Maybe the mood wasn't completely broken, after all.

With that, she allowed herself to imagine the omnipotent, obnoxious man as she began to touch herself once again. As she ran her fingers down her skin, an electricity she'd never before experienced alone began to course through her nerves. She found herself exploring her own body, stimulating nerves she hadn't even been aware existed, and bringing herself, finally, to a peak unmatched by any she had ever reached. As she brought herself down gradually, she felt the sweat beading on her skin and trickling into her sheets, and didn't care. For the first time since she'd entered the Delta Quadrant, she felt content and satisfied. And she was pretty sure she'd be able to do it again.

Just as the pleasant exhaustion of post-coital bliss was about to envelop her and pull her under, she heard a distant voice in her ear. "You're welcome, and I told you so."

She couldn't bring herself to object this time, because she felt so damned good. "Thanks, Q. I needed that."

Although her eyes were closed, she somehow saw him wink. "I know."