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You tossed aside your pillow, the one you must have looked under five times now. Nothing. Of course. You let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through your hair and once again beginning the frantic pacing around your quarters. You must have been at this for an hour now, turning your quarters over from top to bottom, but there was no sign of your dermal regenerator, and now you were running out of time. You were due in sickbay at 0800 hours. You had 9 minutes.
You muttered a colorful string of obscenities in a variety of alien tongues before plopping down once again onto the couch in your living area, rubbing feverishly at your temples. You supposed you would just have to try to hide your little secret from The Doctor. It didn’t seem impossible, you’d hidden it from the rest of the Voyager crew for almost five years now. After all this time in space, you’d never allowed anyone to get close enough to you to discover your… unique interests.
Huffing, you sat up off the couch and started getting ready for your yearly physical exam. Your uniform was tugged on and your hair unceremoniously mussed into an acceptably messy yet fashionable state, just enough to be seen as intentional. You checked yourself in the mirror, making sure to tug the collar of your uniform over the deep emerald bruises that decorated the base of your throat- you never thought you’d actually find yourself appreciating the hideous grey turtleneck- before heading out the door and down the hall.
“How’s my favorite hermit this morning?” The Doctor’s unmistakable droll tone echoed from his office as you stepped into sickbay, the door hissing closed behind you. He was intently tending to some colorful-looking petri dishes, dark brow furrowed in interest and pipette in hand, dripping a deep blue substance into each before setting his tools to the side, seemingly satisfied.
“Fine,” you answered, making no effort to hide the exasperation in your voice as he stepped out of his office to meet you. “Feeding your pets, Doctor?” He huffed a half-chuckle. You folded your arms behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice you anxiously squeezing your own wrists. However, he seemed focused on carefully picking out the tools he would need to properly examine you.
“Indeed I was, Ensign,” he murmured dryly, picking out a medical tricorder and flicking it open to adjust the sensors to your unique hybrid anatomy. “Which puts me one step ahead of you in the realm of personal interaction.” You snorted in response, shifting your weight to one leg and tapping your other foot impatiently. You and The Doctor had never really gotten along, but that wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t that you had anything against him personally- you kept everyone you knew at arm’s length, even your Maquis counterparts. No one had ever asked why, and that was for the best. You weren’t sure that you could answer if they did. No doubt if there were a ship’s counsellor on board, they would have a field day attempting to extrapolate all the reasons why you refused to let anyone get close to you. There were any number of variables, all of which you shoved directly to the back of your mind if ever they surfaced. Call it your own personal method of Vulcan detachment. “This won’t take long, will it?” You answered, pulling yourself from your own thoughts before you could fall into that particular pit of self-loathing. The Doctor pulled away from his tricorder after a few final beeps and chirps, straightening his shoulder before turning to you.
“Relax, Ensign. I’m sure a few moments within a meter of another sentient being won’t kill you. Take a seat.” He gestured to the biobed next to him and you reluctantly obeyed, wringing your hands in your lap.
“This is a basic, non-invasive scan, you won’t feel a thing,” he muttered, the receiver of the tricorder beeping and whirring around your head like a fly. The urge to slap it away was strong, but somehow you resisted. Your eyes flicked up to The Doctor, your brow furrowing in irritation, only to find his dark eyes peering back at you over the top of the tricorder, head tilted slightly. He hurriedly glanced back down at his data, and had it been anyone else, you’d have assumed he’d been staring at you. You cleared your throat.
“Anything wrong?” You murmured. You felt as though the bruises on your throat were burning, glowing and drawing attention to themselves. A knot began to form in your stomach at the thought, and you tried to shove your anxieties down into your stomach.
“Not wrong, per se,” The Doctor mused, tapping a few buttons on the tricorder’s interface. “Just a bit of swelling in your lymph nodes. I’ll perform a few more tests. Lift your head, please.”
“Lift my--” You couldn’t even begin to construct an argument before two of his fingers- surprisingly warm, you noted, for a hologram- were underneath your chin, pushing your head upward, while the fingers of his other hand began prodding gently behind your right ear. You stammered helplessly for a moment, feeling a hot flush creep up onto your cheeks.
“D-Doctor, this is hardly necessary--”
“Have you been coughing, lately? Any sinus irritation? Runny nose?” He seemed, if anything, amused by your protest, as his fingers began to prod lower along your pulse. He was dangerously close to unraveling your lecherous little tapestry.
“No, really, Doctor, I’m fine, it’s nothi-oh!” Your last desperate attempt to keep your private life just that dissolved into a pathetic squeak as his index finger sunk directly into the tender bruised flesh next to your esophagus. The Doctor drew back, a look of bafflement on his face, his finger not pressing now, but hovering lightly, just barely brushing the fabric of your uniform. He studied you for a moment, your face, flushed just seconds ago, now drained of all color. There was a beat as he examined your shocked expression, before he spoke again.
“Ensign,” he murmured, the lines on his face growing darker and deeper with, what was that, worry? One of his warm fingers- did they have callouses? How would a hologram get callouses?- dipped under the hem of your neckline and tugged the material gently down, exposing the bruises. They were deep forest green, copper brown and yellow around the edges, and the shape of them were unmistakable. Fingerprints.
“How did this happen.” It was more a statement than a question, you noticed. You sighed, finally unfreezing yourself and realizing that you’d forgotten to breathe. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you steadied yourself.
“Really,” you laughed, in a feeble attempt to cover your now-shaking voice. “Doctor, it’s not--”
“Who did this to you?” he interjected, those deep black eyes shadowed with concern. “If anyone is hurting you, it is my duty as chief medical officer to take action to protect you. You know, I consider myself more than just your doctor--”
“Doctor, please--”
“I’m a confidant, a protector for this crew! It is my duty to make sure that everyone on Voyager remains in a safe and nurturing--”
“Doctor!” You shouted. This seemed to bring him to his senses. He blinked at you, tilting his head. You drew in a deep breath, steeling yourself.
“Listen… there’s a reasonable explanation for this. I was, um… on the holodeck, and I must have accidentally shut the safeties off, and--”
“Ensign,” The Doctor interjected harshly, his jaw set in frustration. “Surely you don’t think me an imbecile. Next are you going to tell me you tripped and hit your neck on a coffee table?” He straightened up and turned on his heel, marching toward his desk and picking up a padd. Your heart sunk into your stomach.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Restricting you to quarters while Security and I work together to find out who did this to you.”
“Doctor, wait. Please.” You sighed deeply, burying your face in your hands. He looked up from his padd. He was waiting for an explanation, and the only one you happened to have was unacceptable.
The truth.
“It was me,” you blurted. The words hung in the air between you and the hologram, and the creases between his eyebrows only seemed to grow deeper.
“You bruised your own esophagus.”
You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples.
“Yes. It’s… complicated. I--”
“Ensign, I’ve had quite enough of your excuses. I will be notifying security effective immediately, and you should expect--” You drew in a deep breath, finally just deciding to get this over with.
“It’s a sex thing.”
If the silence before was unnerving, this one was simply maddening. You felt as if you could reach between yourself and The Doctor and scoop the tension out of the air. Maybe you could form it into a noose if you tried hard enough. He lowered his eyes, snapping his tricorder closed and pushing the receiver back into its slot.
“I see.”
You finally picked your eyes up from the floor, expecting a look of judgement, perhaps disgust- however, the hologram had his eyes fixed intently on you, tapping his chin with his index finger as he approached.
“What is it you were trying to do, exactly, Ensign?” His thumb was now under your chin, pushing your gaze upward and inspecting your injuries. Your eyes flicked back and forth and your brows knitted together. What kind of question was that?
“Um… choke myself?” You nearly leapt as he let out a brusk ‘ha!’ and gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head rather sharply to the side. His other hand raised to your neck, gently running a finger along the deep green finger-sized bruises along your pulse.
“You didn’t do a very good job of it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Erotic asphyxiation,” he began pointedly, “causes increased pleasure due to lack of blood flow to the brain, not lack of oxygen to your lungs. You’re supposed to restrict circulation,” his thumb ran slowly, sensually almost, down the center of your throat. “Not crush your larynx.”
You swallowed thickly. His thumb had come to rest over your esophagus now, and you knew he could feel it. You wondered if he could also feel your heartrate quickening, your face heating up.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had experience, Doctor,” you mumbled, redirecting your eyes to the side. He let go of your chin, letting your head fall, and your gaze along with it, back to the ground. You huffed.
“My experience in the realm of sexuality may be limited, but my knowledge of anatomy and physiology is not, Ensign. Even with zero experience, I could do a better job of this than you could.” He raised his hand to your throat again, brushing the back of his index finger almost tenderly along the bruises. “And leave less... embarrassing evidence.” The Doctor turned to walk away, a smug smirk on his lips that brought your blood to a boil. Just moments ago he’d been going on about being a confidant, and now he was mocking you? He was the only one who knew about this little habit of yours, and you weren’t about to just leave it at that.
“Prove it.”
You blurted the words out before you even felt them forming inside your mouth. The Doctor froze in place, and you could faintly see him blink in surprise. He turned his head back toward you, the expression on his face unreadable, something in between surprise, intrigue, and amusement.
“Excuse me?” he half-laughed. He turned and took a step toward you.
“I said…” you drew in a deep breath. There was no turning back now. He wasn’t going to run his long, calloused fingers over your throat and then insult you. “I said prove it.”
He stepped closer yet, until your knees were brushing the front of his thighs. You tried your best to look intimidating, but you estimated that with the shade of emerald your face was right now, you looked a pathetic mess.
“Are you propositioning me, Ensign?” His voice was lower than you’d ever heard it before, and it seemed to rumble deep in your chest. His head tilted, and you thought you could see a mischievous glint in his eye. You’d expected him to be a little more, well, awkward than he was being due to his lack of experience, but he seemed to be having a wonderful time, whereas you were racked with anxiety.
“Maybe,” you murmured in response, struggling to keep your eyes on his. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“My office,” he stated bluntly, before turning on his heel and heading in that direction. Not a request, you noted, but an order. Interesting, you thought. What could you do but follow? You’d come this far. He was standing in front of his desk when you entered, and he beckoned you closer. You stopped about a foot away, not knowing quite what he expected of you. He sighed in exasperation and closed the gap between you, acknowledged you coldly as he eyed you up and down.
“The idea, Ensign, is to cut off circulation to the brain. This induces a feeling of euphoria and an increase in the intensity of sexual pleasure.” The Doctor spoke like he was reading from a medical text, however there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. You scowled.
“The carotid arteries are located here,” a thumb on one side of your neck, “and here.” His fingers on the other side. Your heart jumped, and you swear you could see him smirk. “Would you like a demonstration?”
You hummed, your gaze dropping to the floor, and answered with a weak nod. Your face burned emerald.
“I’m sorry, Ensign, but I couldn’t hear you. Would you repeat that?” You could hear that smug curl of his lips in his voice, and it took everything in you not to slap him as you raised your eyes to meet his- your hand would just pass right through his head anyway.
“Yes, Doctor,” you murmured. A soft chuckled slipped past his lips, and he tilted his head contentedly.
“As you wish. Tap twice on my wrist to say when.”
Slowly, his fingers began to squeeze the sides of your throat. He started off gently, as if worried that his fingertips were digging too hard into your bruises, but he must have heard your gasp, saw your pupils blow wide, felt your pulse begin to quicken, because he quickly increased his pressure. Your eyes fluttered shut as the familiar fuzziness set in, but it was nothing like those heated moments alone in your room- this was direct, intense, more electrifying than you’d ever felt before. Your pulse was beginning to pound in your head, a velvety coldness beginning to brush your lips. You’d never known that you could feel this powerful a mixture of arousal, desperation, and submission. The Doctor, this accursed holographic smartass that you couldn’t stand the thought of seeing this morning- you could melt against him, obey his every command, live in this sickbay for the rest of this miserable journey--
You hadn’t even noticed the spots in your vision, heard his voice as he called your name- the next thing you knew he was hanging onto you as you slumped against him, blood rushing in your ears as your vision came back to you.
“I told you to tap twice, Ensign!” He scolded, obviously more than a little concerned with your wellbeing. He reached for the medical tricorder on his desk--
“I-I’m fine,” you assured him breathily, grabbing his wrist. “I just, um… i-it’s never been… that good before.”
The Doctor paused before letting out a chuckle, helping you to your feet. You felt like a newborn deer, your legs like twigs ready to snap underneath you, still leaning on him for support. It was for the first time that you noticed his smell- he smelled nice. He must have added a cologne to his program.
“Like I said, Ensign. Unlimited medical knowledge. It has many uses.” One arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping you upright, his other hand was resting gently on your throat, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles along your aching bruises.
“Again,” you panted, raising your eyes to meet his. You must have looked a mess, as he cocked an eyebrow, giving you a quick up-and-down glance.
“Are you sure you don’t need a moment?”
“I’m fine,” you sighed. “I’m not… new to this kind of thing, I’ve just… never done it with another person before.” You paused, taking your lower lip in between your teeth. “If you hadn’t noticed, my quarters aren’t exactly crawling with potential suitors. I’m a little bit--”
“Rude?” The Doctor finished with a smile that feigned innocence. “Reclusive? Snippy? Unpleasant? Disagreeable?”
“...yeah,” you huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not actually that bad, I promise. I just… I don’t know…”
“You’re a child of two worlds, and you don’t let people get close to you out of fear of disappointing them.” He seemed amused at the face you made. “Lieutenant Torres said she sees herself in you.” You hummed in response, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. You felt too utterly exposed in every conceivable way to be offended, or even irritated. No one had ever seen you like this, and it didn’t feel as awful as you thought it would. The Doctor’s arms slowly encircled you, and you felt like you could stay this way for the foreseeable future… if it weren’t for this nagging problem in your pants begging to be solved. You moved your mouth to the crook of his neck.
“Doctor,” you murmured against his skin, almost pleadingly, and you could have sworn you felt him shudder.
“Yes Ensign?”
“Don’t make me beg.”
“I’m so tempted to, but we’ve made so much progress today, I suppose you deserve a reward.” The remark was intended as a joke, but it made a heat rise up in your belly either way.
“Here,” he muttered, taking your shoulders and moving you back against his desk- before you knew it he’d lifted you up onto the surface, sitting on the edge like you had been on the biobed. “So you don’t have another little tumble.” He moved toward you and without thinking you parted your legs slightly, allowing him to slot between, and the two of you to come face to face.
“Two taps, Ensign,” The Doctor breathed, gazing down at you almost tenderly as his hand found its place around your throat again. “I mean it this time.” He leaned in close, and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you. Even stranger, for a moment, you wished he would.
He began squeezing your throat again, his eyes locked with yours this time, your pupils blown wide in desire almost matching his deep black irises. You couldn’t pull your gaze from his as the edges of your vision began to blacken, as that frozen softness crept into your lips, and your fingertips as your hand bunched up a handful of fabric on the front of his uniform. His gaze flickered down to your hand holding onto him and you saw a hint of a smile as he met your eyes again. He leaned in, barely brushing his lips against yours and your pulse throbbed in your head, your heart leapt, and good god you didn’t want to end this but you were about to pass out again-
Tap tap.
He released his grip, bringing his hand up to cup the side of your face as you turned to jelly in his grasp. You nuzzled his palm, panting into it. The Doctor hummed in response, brushing your short, messy hair away from your face. His gaze was fixed on you and you weakly raised your head to meet it. His hand, those calloused fingers snaked around to the back of your head, burying themselves in your hair, and your lips met again, still feather-light but with a bit more purpose. They met again and again, slowly and with no ulterior motives, just lost in the experience.
“Again?” He murmured between kisses, his hand moving back to your throat. You nodded.
He squeezed again, his lips never leaving yours this time. As the pounding in your ears grew more intense, so did the meeting of your lips, innocent and indulgent kisses quickly becoming deep, adamant, and urgent. When you tapped out this time his hand left, but the kisses didn’t stop. Your uniform was starting to feel rather tight. There was only one thing on your mind now.
“Doctor,” you panted against his lips, one hand still gripping his uniform tight, the other hanging onto his shoulder as if for dear life. “P-please, I need… I…”
He hushed you, looking around the two of you with a hint of regret.
“Not here. Not now.” You let out a whine as your head fell onto his shoulder.
“Doctor,” you hissed. “You can’t just… get me like this and then send me back to my quarters.” He hummed, brushing his thumb along your temple.
“I suppose you’re right,” he sighed. “I propose…” He dragged two fingers across your cheekbone, over your lips, down your chin. “A compromise.” His other hand was in your hair again and his lips were on yours before you could blink. You sunk in against him eagerly, and moaned into his mouth as he gave your hair a sharp tug, all the permission he needed to slip his tongue past your lips, swirling around yours. The burning between your legs had become an inferno as he pressed his palm against you through the fabric of your uniform, and you practically squealed into his mouth. He groaned in response, before pulling his mouth off of yours reluctantly, taking a deep breath.
“Easy, Ensign,” he breathed, running his thumb over the waistband of your uniform, his tone teasing. “I don’t want to rush this.”
You huffed as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, leaving a soft trail down to your jaw and then to your throat. His lips lingered on the curve between your neck and your shoulder, sucking gently as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, running along the edge of your underwear. You pushed your hips toward him helplessly, and he steadied you with a hand, pushing you back down to the desk and sinking his teeth into your neck without warning, drawing a yelp out of you.
“You’re not being a very patient patient.”
“Doctor!” You cried and he chuckled against your neck, finally dipping his hand beneath the waistband, running his middle finger along your slit, embarrassingly wet by this point. You felt something rumble in his chest as you pressed yourself against him, moaning into his neck. His finger found your clit in an instant, teasing it with slow circles, and you let out a keening sound into the fabric of his uniform, your hands on his shoulders trying to pull him as close to you as physically possible as he no doubt left a new, vibrant set of dark green bruises along your pulse. He toyed with you this way for a few more minutes, pulling away to look at you intermittently, as if studying your reactions, humming in thought now and then.
His fingers left your clit and your whine became a gasp as he buried them inside you. Seemingly pleased with your response, The Doctor began to gently thrust the digits, curling them in a way that made you see stars. Your head fell back and a long, shaky moan slipped past your lips, to which the hologram responded with a surprisingly genuine smile, no hint of teasing.
"You look lovely like this, Ensign," he mused, voice dropping to a rumbling whisper, before catching your lips again in a slow, sweet kiss, catching your moans in his mouth as they grew in pitch and desperation, only pulling away to raise his hand to your throat.
"Yes," he hissed, his brow furrowing in focus and desire. It seemed as if he was having almost as good a time as you were, almost equally lost in the sensation as his fingers picked up their speed, stoking the fire inside of you and encouraging your building release. His other hand began squeezing your throat in earnest and your eyes rolled back- you felt yourself beginning to lose control, your hips rolling into the movement of his hand, his lips brushed your jaw. You were so close, so fucking close to falling over that edge…
"Just let go, Ensign," The Doctor rumbled, and you couldn't help but obey, gripping tightly onto his shoulders as you squeezed his fingers, rocking your hips feverishly into his hand as you rode out, no doubt, the most intense orgasm you'd ever had, a million lightyears ahead of anything you could have given yourself.
Just when you thought you might faint from either the pleasure or the lack of oxygen he let up his grip on your throat, moving his hand to the back of your head instead as you slumped onto his shoulder, panting hard. His fingers stilled with in you, but didn't move away just yet. The only sound in the room was the sound of you whimpering as you caught your breath and the occasional beeping of the console behind you.
"How was that, Ensign? Comments? Concerns?" You supposed it would be superfluous for The Doctor to write an entirely new personality subroutine for sexual encounters, as he seemed to be the same old Doc he always was, dryly quipping. You didn't mind as much as you thought you would, but you were a touch disappointed as he pulled his fingers out of you.
Rather than snipping back, you raised your head, gently pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. He smiled gently, pressing one to your forehead in return before pulling away from you and holding out a hand to help you to your feet. You attempted to straighten your clothes and hair, in vain, you figured, as your feelings were always written quite obviously across your face, but this way at least you could say you tried.
When you looked up, The Doctor was tapping away on a padd, not looking mussed or flustered in the slightest. You looked between him and the door for a moment- were you dismissed?
"I… suppose you're satisfied that I'm not a victim of domestic violence at this point, Doctor?" You piped up, once again tugging up the collar on your uniform, this time to hide a new set of marks along with the old.
"Hm? Oh, yes," he chuckled, turning to face you. "Ensign, I've known those were self inflicted from the moment I saw them." You felt your jaw drop open, a hot flush creeping up once again to your cheeks.
"B-but I… y-you…"
"Had to get you to open up to me somehow, didn't I?" Your jaw snapped shut as you pondered this information. You didn't know whether to be upset or impressed. He'd played you- as Captain Janeway would say- like a fiddle. Amusement danced in those dark eyes as you gazed up at him through your lashes.
"I suppose we should finish your exam at some point," he pondered aloud, setting the padd aside and tapping his chin. "However, the sickbay proved a tad too confining for your particular… affliction." He hummed, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, weighing his options, before looking back to you.
"Meet me tomorrow in holodeck two. 1800 hours."
Your heart leapt in your chest in excitement, surprising even you with the degree of which you anticipated your next encounter. You opened your mouth and then closed it again before settling on a simple nod in agreement, turning and heading toward the door.
"What was that, Ensign?" The Doctor piped up behind you, the familiar tone of a smug smirk playing on his voice. "I didn't quite hear you." You took a deep breath, tugging up your collar again over the marks on your neck, which seemed to burn along with your cheeks.
"Yes, Doctor."
"Excellent."