Title: Chutes and
Ladders
Author:
Birca
Email: birca@hotmail.com
Rating:
[NC-17] You better believe it!
Summary: A fun-filled game for two players!
Adult supervision most definitely NOT required!
Notes: It's
AU folks. Yup, for sure! Takes place directly after (all
right, the morning after) The Chute. No angst here,
either. I won't dwell on the fact that Harry almost killed Tom
with that pipe, or that Tom would no doubt have months of flashbacks
and bad dreams about his numerous prison experiences. This is
purely for fun and I've been told that it's a bodice-ripper. I'm
not so sure, but I'm proud none the less.
Disclaimer:
Voyager and its crew belong to Paramount/Viacom. Tal
belongs to me (with gracious permission). Please don't use her
without asking first, it really pisses her off.
Date: August
2001
~^~^~^~
B'Elanna woke
slowly. She was sprawled on her bed on her side, her face buried
in the sheets. Her mouth felt dry and sticky and her head was
just beginning to throb. She felt…fuzzy, that was
it.
Where the hell
had Seska and Tal taken her last night? She made a cautious
movement, a slight motion of one arm, that brought her hand under her
cheek. Kahless, her shoulders hurt. What had they been
doing this time? If it was another bar-fight she couldn't
remember it. She hoped they'd won; it would a shame to be so sore
and then find out they'd lost. Talk about adding insult to
injury.
She cautiously
brought one knee up, sliding it along the sheets until her thigh was
pressed against her ribcage. The stretch hurt like hell, but it
felt good too. Had she been running? As her brain continued
its struggle toward full consciousness, she realized that a warm body
was pressed against her back. She nudged the intruder with an
elbow and mumbled, "Move it, Tal. Climb into your own
bunk."
The body
responded to her order by dragging a hairy arm across her
naked—naked?—belly and pulling her close. Warm breath
puffed against her ear as he—it was most definitely NOT her
female roommate—murmured something she couldn't make out.
His stubbly chin rasped against the back of her neck causing a shiver
to trail down her spine despite herself. And she was suddenly,
fully awake.
And she
remembered. Everything.
She wasn't on her
old beat up Maquis ship anymore; she hadn't been on the Liberty
for almost two years. She was on Voyager, lost in the
Delta Quadrant with a ship full of Starfleet officers who'd been sent
to track down her and her friends. She hadn't seen Tal for longer
than that, and these were definitely not her quarters. A turn of
her head confirmed it—they belonged to Tom Paris. The same
Tom Paris she'd thought was dead along with Harry. The one she'd
shared a feast with last night, replicator rations be damned. And
his last bottle of contraband Sikarian something—hooch, he'd
called it.
She'd run into
them just after they'd finally been released from sickbay.
Tom—or was it Harry?—had been saying something about fudge
ripple pudding just as she'd rounded the corner and come face to face
with them. She'd pulled Harry into an impulsive hug, and when
she'd finally let him go Tom had given her one of his patented
seductive smiles and asked where his hug was. It was a dare, she
knew, and with Harry standing there observing she had no way to get out
of it gracefully. And she realized that she didn't want to.
So she put her hands on Tom's chest and slid them slowly around his
middle as he pulled her close to him, molding her body to his.
She felt him settle his face in her hair, heard the slow intake of
breath and realized that she'd done the same thing. Breathed him
in. And when she'd pulled away from him, awkward and embarrassed
by the moment, she caught Harry looking at them quizzically. He
was the one who'd invited her to join them in their 'victory feast'
and, once again, she was at a loss for a graceful way to get out of
it. And, once again, she realized that she didn't want to.
So, she'd linked her arms with theirs, telling them to lead the way and
pledged her replicator rations to the meal.
Harry had left at
some point during the evening, thank Kahless, but she hadn't. And
despite killing the bottle, she remembered everything. She hadn't
wanted to leave, it hadn't even crossed her mind. They'd been
sitting on the floor, the remnants of an enormous feast spread out on
the coffee table and the floor around them. Just as Tom pulled out the
bottle, Harry decided to go back to his quarters, declining one for the
road. But B'Elanna had promptly dumped her cold coffee into a
plant pot and held up her mug, a false bravado shining in her
eyes. She'd dared Tom to match her drink for drink, and called
him a coward when he'd warned her that it wasn't a mild ladies' sipping
wine. No kidding.
She'd been
intoxicated, surely, but she hadn't lost control—at least not
because of the alcohol. It was the man who had made her drunk, and she
remembered the conscious decision to flirt with him, then lean into him
and kiss him. She remembered the look on his face: surprise,
turning to delight, then a longing that she felt matched in her own
heart. She'd feared he was dead, she'd thought he was gone
forever—Harry too, she reminded herself—for the second time
in a year. Or was it the third? And he hadn't even turned
into a lizard first this time. She remembered teasing him about
that last night after…after the
second—third?—time. Something about his
tongue.
And they hadn't
stopped at three times either. Whatever magic the doctor had
worked on him to get him back to health after that prison, it had done
wonders. The magic of tri-ox compound, she snorted. A
little extra oxygen went a long way with Tom Paris. She'd have to
keep a hypo of it handy for next time. But there wouldn't be a
next time, she reminded herself harshly. There shouldn't have
been a first, or a second, or a third…
She tensed as he
settled against her with a sigh, the vibration of his breath low in his
throat starting a corresponding thrum along her body's nerve
endings. It had been a long time for her, a long time between
lovers, and her overtaxed muscles were screaming in protest. As
well they might. She'd been wanton, almost crazed with
passion. For Tom Paris. And she'd been greedy too, uncaring
of his physical state. Uncaring of the fact that he'd just been
released from Sickbay not four hours before.
She'd almost torn
the clothing from his back in her haste to get to the body
underneath. He still had faint bruises from a fist fight, and a
scar from a knife wound low on his belly. She remembered kissing
the angry pink flesh, soothing it with her lips and tongue before she'd
allowed herself to explore the rest of his
chest.
She'd been
watching him for a long time; sneaking glances at him from her station
on the bridge. Watching as his uniform slid across the smooth
muscles of his back and shoulders every time he made a course
correction, or turned to speak to the captain, or to smile at
her. She'd been watching Janeway too. How she would glide
up behind Tom and lay a proprietary hand on that shoulder. She'd
meant it to be comforting, of course, motherly… And she would
have thrown back her head in laughter at the thought that such a simple
touch would make B'Elanna want to run at her with a knife aimed at her
throat. The Maquis way. Hands off my
man.
But where did
that absurd thought come from?, B'Elanna wondered. He wasn't
her man, and even if he were, the Maquis didn't settle scores in
blood. Certainly not over a womanizing good-time-boy like Tom
Paris. But that wasn't fair. He didn't really act that way,
despite his self professed reputation. She'd spent the last year
figuring that out. And he certainly hadn't been smooth or slick
last night—oh he'd been good, amazing actually, she
admitted. They'd been amazing together. As much as she had
demanded, he had given. And she'd demanded so much. She had
never been like that before with any man; never so insistent in her
pursuit of pleasure, never so vocal about her desires. She had
guided him—in those rare instances when he'd needed that
guidance—and he'd complied willingly. And she'd been
equally uninhibited while pleasuring him. She'd been so wild, so
animal, so… Klingon.
She drew her body
into a tight ball of embarrassment. Kahless, what must he think
of her this morning? And what was she still doing here, in his
bed? She had never actually slept with a man before. Not even at
the Academy when she'd had a steady boyfriend. Being wedged
between Chakotay and Ayala when they were pinned down by a Cardassian
security detail for two days didn't count. She had always
preferred to sleep alone. But last night she hadn't wanted to
leave Tom's bed or the secure comfort of his arms, and truthfully, she
wasn't sure she could have made it back to her quarters without being
carried. Not that he hadn't carried her as well: carried her to
the bed after they'd made love with such desperate need the first time
on the living room floor…
Belatedly she
realized where her bottom was in relation to the long body curled
around her and what effect her movement might have on that body.
His arm tightened around her waist, and he pulled her more securely
against him. She felt his erection warm and insistent against her
naked bottom and forced down a sigh. His penis jumped as it grazed her
thigh, and she felt an answering heat in the pit of her belly.
She bit back a moan. Get a grip, she thought, then get
the hell out of here. What time was it? Should she be
on duty? Had anyone missed her? Kahless, anyone could walk
in on them right now and discover them together. The captain,
Harry, Kes. And they'd be sure to get the wrong impression.
Well, the right impression, actually.
She willed
herself to relax against him and felt the ache in her shoulders ease a
fraction. She was being silly. No one would walk in
on them—well, the doctor might if he weren't limited to sickbay
and the holodeck. If anyone wanted either of them, they'd use the
comm. And unless they asked the computer where she was, they'd
assume she was in her quarters. Unless, of course, there were
standing outside her quarters leaning on her call
button…
She eased away
from Tom's chest and slowly turned onto her belly, ready to crawl off
the bed if necessary. She risked a glance at his face, and was
startled to find that he was awake and watching her with a sleepy,
heavy-lidded expression. He looked gorgeous. His face was
still relaxed with sleep, and his jaw and cheeks were covered in a
short growth of reddish-gold whiskers which had tickled the back of her
neck so deliciously only moments before. His hair was in
disarray, long strands of it curling down onto his forehead. She
remembered running her fingers through it last night, intentionally
messing the strict Starfleet hairstyle. She'd been flirting with
him even before Harry had left them alone. And then Tom had
brought out that bottle of 'hooch'. No wonder Harry had left in
such a hurry. He must have read the signs long before B'Elanna
had realized what was happening herself.
This new thought
brought a new wave of embarrassment with it. She felt her cheeks
burn hotly, and buried her face in her pillow. Tom's
pillow. As much as she could smell her own perfume on the
bedding, it still carried Tom's scent too.
"Good morning,"
Tom said casually, with a warmth in his voice she'd never heard him use
before. His hand was resting just below the small of her back,
his thumb on her spine and his fingers splayed against the curve of her
hip. Her non-committal response, "Mmmph" turned into a gasp as he
slowly drew his hand across her bottom, gently cupping each cheek in
turn, his fingers trailing lightly along her skin. She shivered
with the sensation. It felt so familiar. He felt
familiar.
She turned her
head to look at him again. He didn't look sleepy anymore, in
fact, he looked decidedly awake. His eyes were burning with an
inner fire, and she felt the intense heat of desire wash over her again
just as strong and insistent as it had been the night before. It
wasn't fair; she wasn't supposed to want him this much. Her
desire for this man should have been quenched last night. But as
wild and wonderful as that had been, it wasn't enough. Not nearly
enough. She wanted to throw herself on top of him and ravish him
with wild abandon. Wild. He'd called her wild last
night. A wild Klingon beauty. No, his exact words had been
'my wild Klingon beauty'. His.
She growled low
in her throat, and he answered with a grin. "Computer, what's the
time?" he asked.
"The time is
0542," the computer answered.
He brought his
hand up to her face and brushed the hair from her cheek, tucking it
behind her ear. Then he leaned forward to kiss her softly, with
more tenderness than she'd ever been shown before. She should
leave. She willed her body to get up and get dressed and walk
back to her quarters before half of Alpha shift clogged the corridors
on their way to the mess hall. She'd been expecting an excuse,
some reason why he would rush her out the door. Or at least some
sign that he'd expected a replay of their rough passion from last
night. Not this gentle sweetness that threatened to drown
her. She swam to her senses when he finally pulled away from her,
knowing that she looked dazed, knowing that she should leave, knowing
that she wanted more.
"Fuck it!" she
shouted as she dove for him, finding his mouth and drawing him into a
long kiss. She had time to see his eyes grow round with surprise
before he brought his arms around her to roll them over on the bed as
he kissed her back. A thought came to her as he lowered his body
onto hers; one for the road.
~^~^~^~
How many ways
could two people make love anyway? She didn’t mean
'positions', she was referring to the emotions involved. Last
night had been, well, last night. Wild and free, loving and
desperate all at once. And at times a little rough. A lot
rough. But this morning, Tom had been so tender, so gentle, that
when the orgasm washed over her, she'd been stunned by the sweetness of
it. She almost didn't recognize it for what it was. And she
realized that she was finally satiated.
Good thing, one
more roll in the sheets with Tom Paris and she wouldn't be able to
move. She still hurt, but not as much as when she'd first woken
up an hour earlier—Kahless an hour! He'd certainly been in
no hurry this time, despite the evidence to the contrary. While
last night's exertions had left her tired muscles sore and aching, this
morning's tumble had served to loosen her up. Far better than a
hypo.
She grinned at
Tom's back. He sat on the edge of the bed experimentally
stretching his shoulders and back. She'd wondered at a couple of
the moans she'd heard coming from him this morning. Apparently he
was just as sore as she was. The thought brought a wave of
happiness to her. It had been a while for him
too.
Something caught
her eye and she leaned toward him, her hand coming to her mouth.
His back, my God! He still had several faint bruises along his
ribs, the yellow marks standing out sickly on his pale golden
skin. But beside them, a long red scratch ran parallel to his
spine. Had she done that? Not this morning, she was
sure. She let her gaze roam up over his shoulder blades to the
tight bunching of muscles along his upper arms. More scratches,
but among them, clearly visible in the half illumination in his
quarters, were several crescent shaped marks. She'd bitten
him.
She was
horrified, her eyes growing round over her hand. Never had she
done that before. Not even with that Academy
boyfriend—especially not with that boyfriend. And she
didn't even remember doing it. Had she been so swept up in her
passion for this man that she had lost control of her deepest
inhibitions? Had she really been so …
Klingon? It was disturbing, disgusting. But it was nice,
too, she admitted.
So now
what? She pulled the sheet more firmly around herself and
considered a graceful exit. She'd never had to deal with the
morning after before. And to be honest, in all her fantasies, she
never thought she'd deal with it quite the way they had. Tom
turned and smiled at her. He reached for her hand and brought it
to his lips, brushing a kiss softly across her
knuckles.
"I guess we ought
to get moving," he said, reading her mind. "It's almost 0700, and
the captain wants us for a debriefing in an hour." He grinned at
her mischievously. "I hope she wasn't expecting me to work on my
report last night," he said softly.
Before she could
react, her combadge sounded. "Kim to Torres." Harry.
She looked around frantically for her uniform. It could be
anywhere. Tom grinned and walked naked into his living
area. She closed her eyes on the sight. Harry commed her
again while Tom found her clothing and brought it to her; she had an
unreasonable fear that Tom would press her combadge and answer their
friend himself. But he didn't say a word; he just looked in the
direction of the bathroom, raised an arm and began to pantomime washing
motions.
B'Elanna nodded
her understanding and fumbled in her clothing as Harry's voice said,
"Hey Maquis, you in the shower or something?" Tom's eyebrows rose
in invitation, and she shook her head no. She definitely needed a
shower, but not with Tom! She hit her combadge, hoping
desperately that Tom wouldn't make a sound. "Harry!
I—I'm here," she stuttered.
Tom moved slowly
away from her, his eyes watching her face. B'Elanna blinked and
looked away.
"So," he said,
"are you meeting me for breakfast, or are you still full from last
night?"
"Um, I'll be
there. Give me half an hour."
"Okay, see you
then." A chirp signaled the end of the conversation, and B'Elanna
was just about to say something to Tom—anything to hurry him into
the bathroom so she could get up and get dressed—when his own
combadge chirped. "Kim to Paris." A lazy grin spread across
Tom's face, and B'Elanna felt weak with relief. Harry didn't
suspect anything. Thank God!
"Paris
here."
"Hey, drag your
lazy butt out of bed and meet me in the mess hall." B'Elanna's
eyebrows rose at the tone. Harry had never spoken to her like
that!
"Do I have
to? I was hoping to spend the whole day in
bed."
"So I guess the
debriefing can be held in your quarters, then? I'll alert the
Captain," Harry joked.
Tom laughed, "No,
you'd better not. Let me have a shower and I'll be right
up."
"I can swing by
and get you," Harry offered.
"Don't bother,"
Tom said. "I'll be there in a bit."
"Well, make sure
you're presentable. B'Elanna said she'd join
us."
At the sound of
her name B'Elanna's eyes flew to Tom's face. She felt heat rush
into her cheeks, then quickly recede. "Twenty minutes,
Harry. I'll meet you in the mess hall." He closed the link
with a tap and sat on the edge of the bed. "You know," he said
slowly, "it occurs to me that we could save time if we showered
together."
B'Elanna blinked
at him. He wasn't teasing, he was serious. "I'll scrub your
back for you," he promised. Her gaze was fixated on a crescent
shaped bite mark beside his left nipple. "I—I need to get a
clean uniform…" She riffled through her clothing and came
up empty. Where the hell was her underwear?
"I'd replicate
one for you if I had the rations," he said. He leaned in to kiss
her and pulled up abruptly as she flinched away from him. She saw
a ripple of doubt cross his features. He stood and stared at her,
still making no motion toward the bathroom. "I guess I'll meet
you in the mess then," he said slowly. "Harry's expecting us," he
reminded her.
When she made no
move to get off the bed, he shook his head slightly and crossed the
room, letting the bathroom door slide closed between them.
B'Elanna let out a breath. She jumped up when she heard the sonic
shower start and pulled her turtleneck on, not even bothering to look
for her bra. She slid her pants on over her naked bottom and
bolted for the door.
It didn't even
occur to her to thank the gods that the corridor was empty until she
was safely inside the turbolift on her way to deck
nine.
~^~^~^~
It only took
B'Elanna four minutes to make it back to her quarters. Not bad
considering she lived five decks and nine sections away. She'd
only passed one crewmember and her mumbled "good morning" seemed to
pass muster.
She rushed into
her quarters, pulling off her uniform jacket as she went. She was
about to toss it toward the 'fresher when she stopped and brought it to
her nose. It smelled of Tom. A huge grin split her face,
and she allowed herself to laugh at the wantonness of the
situation. Sure, she'd known she was attracted to him, and she'd
heard the rumors about his abilities in bed—of course she'd
always assumed that he'd started them himself. But, well…
wow.
She would not be
embarrassed about this anymore. She had to work with the man,
after all. They were both grown ups—boy, was he a grown
up—and they'd both been drunk. Liar, an inner voice
whispered. They would just have to get past it in order to
function together on this very small ship. And she was going to
see him across a mess table in twenty minutes.
That thought
propelled her to action. She quickly dropped her jacket and
pulled off the rest of her rumpled uniform. On the way to the
bathroom, she stopped at her closet and fished out clean
underwear. She wondered just what had happened to her bra and
panties last night. He'd better not try to keep them, or I
swear I'll— She bit off the thought, not sure which
would be worse: Tom keeping her underwear, or him stopping by her
quarters to return them.
She stepped into
the sonic shower and slammed on the controls, doing her best not to
imagine Tom sliding in behind her and washing her back. She
heaved a sigh and ran a hand along her arm and across her belly.
Not strictly necessary in a sonic shower, but it gave the illusion of
an old fashioned water shower, and she secretly believed that it was a
programmed response to the idea of getting clean. And, well, it
just felt good to touch your own skin every once in a while. A
purely innocent touch, of course…
She bent and
brought her palms up her calf, intending to massage away the tightness
in the muscle. She stopped cold, teetering on one foot. And
then it hit her—she hadn't taken care of her leg hair in the week
Tom and Harry had been missing. It hadn't even occurred to
her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back against
the shower wall. Another thought had already entered her
engineer's analytical mind, but she didn't really want to know.
Slowly she raised one arm above her head, then took a peek and
groaned. Tom wasn't the only one with stubble this
morning.
~^~^~^~
Despite the fact
that she had farther to go, B'Elanna made it to the mess hall before
Tom did. She helped herself to a piece of fruit and a cup of
coffee and slid into the chair opposite Harry.
"Had your fill
last night, huh?" he asked.
"What?!" B'Elanna
looked up at him, shocked by the question.
Harry nodded at
the apple in her hand. "Come on, B'Elanna, with the amount we
ate, I'm surprised you have room for that." He was pushing his
food around on his plate, and B'Elanna noticed that he didn't seem to
have eaten much of it himself. He answered the question before
she asked it, "I only took this to make Neelix happy. He thinks I
lost weight."
B'Elanna eyed him
critically. "Well, he's right," she said. "And your
colour's off too. Maybe you need more sleep."
"Well you look
great this morning," he said. "You look… rosy. I guess you
got enough for once." He winked at her.
Before she could
formulate a reply Tom slid into the chair next to her. "Hey
Harry, how's it going?" he asked. His tray was piled high and he
dug in with gusto. She shot a quick glance at his profile.
He was sitting awfully close. Too close; he shifted a bit and his
knee pressed against hers. She tensed and started to ease away,
trying to make the move look casual, but Tom turned his head slightly
and grinned at her.
B'Elanna's breath
caught for a moment. Take it easy, she told herself
sternly. Don't go all gooey, for Kahless'
sake.
"Well, that was
quite a night," Tom said.
"Yeah," Harry
agreed. "I don't think I'll be doing that again for a long
time."
"Oh, I don't
know. I could get used to it. In fact, if I had the energy,
I wouldn't mind doing it again right now."
B'Elanna's mouth
fell open, and she responded without thinking, "What, right here in the
mess hall, in front of everyone?"
"Sure," he
answered, not looking at her. "We could use the long table in
front of the viewport." He considered the idea for a moment, then
shook his head. "Maybe not. They'd be awfully jealous since
their own …meals … wouldn't be nearly as tasty as
mine."
He's talking
about food, B'Elanna reminded herself. I will not
blush. But she felt compelled to change the subject.
Something safe. She almost wished she could bring the
conversation around to leg hair, so she could let him know that she'd
taken care of hers. Not that he even seemed to notice last
night. Or this morning.
Neelix saved her
by arriving with the coffee pot.
"Anyone for more
coffee?" he asked. B'Elanna held up her cup, relieved to have
something to do with her hands. "I must say it's good to see the
three of you together again. What did you call yourselves, Tom?
The menage a trois?" Neelix asked with a friendly
smile.
Harry choked on
his coffee, but Tom just grinned wider. "The 'Three Amigos'
Neelix. It means three buddies, friends."
"Right,
amigos." Neelix seemed to commit the word to memory this
time. He turned his attention to B'Elanna. "B'Elanna, is
that all you're having? You'll never make it through the day
without something to fill your belly."
She saw Tom's
lips twitching. "I, um, guess I'm still full from last night,"
she said slowly, willing Tom to keep his mouth shut.
"Really, did you
overindulge yourselves?" Neelix's eyes traveled from Tom to B'Elanna
and back again.
"Yes, I did,
actually," she answered. "I guess I got carried away. I,
um, don't usually behave like that. I usually have much better
control of myself."
Tom turned his
head and studied her for a moment, just long enough to make her want to
squirm. Finally, he drew a slow breath and said, "Well, I'm glad
you feel like you can let yourself go with me."
Kahless, his eyes
were blue this morning. And that lock of hair still wanted to
fall over his forehead. B'Elanna swallowed hard. "Don't
worry about it Neelix," Tom continued. "Now that B'Elanna's
remembered her appetite, I’m sure she'll be feasting again
soon. Maybe even tonight." He turned his head away and
stared directly ahead. "She just has to get over her
embarrassment about last night's over-indulgence. I'm sure she'll
come around in time."
"Well, you seem
to have enjoyed your breakfast, Tom." Neelix peered at his near
empty tray.
"It was delicious
Neelix. Actually, I was hoping I can have the same thing tomorrow
morning."
B'Elanna gasped,
but Tom was nonchalant. "Well, that was the last of the Jibalian
omelet," Neelix said, thoughtfully, "but I have lots of pleeka pudding
left over, and a little bit of zilm'kach that I
replicated."
"Sounds great,
Neelix. Actually, a little variety is always good. And I
seem to have acquired a taste for Klingon food." B'Elanna's mouth
dropped open. What was he playing at?
"Hey, speaking of
pudding," Harry spoke up, "I hope you guys saved me some of the fudge
ripple."
"Sorry Harry,"
Tom answered. "It turns out B'Elanna has quite the sweet
tooth." B'Elanna had a sudden vivid memory of Tom trailing drops
of pudding along her belly and thighs, then licking it off. She
swallowed hard as her stomach contracted with a ripple of its
own.
"A—actually, I seem to recall that Tom was the one who
finished the pudding," she stammered.
"What?! There was
half a bowl left! Don't tell me you guys ate all that food last
night?" Harry asked, shocked.
Tom turned a
teasing look on B'Elanna, but he spoke to his best friend, "I guess
B'Elanna's appetite is insatiable. I think she even surprised
herself."
Harry smothered a
laugh and stood up. "If you guys are finished, I think we'd
better get to that briefing before the Captain sends out another search
party."
"Oh I'm finished
all right," B'Elanna gritted, her voice rising. "In fact, I think
I've had more than enough." She sent a glare at Tom, who stumbled
to his feet, flinging out his hand to stop her exit.
"Hey, whoa,
B'Elanna!" She glared at him, trying to focus on anything but the
heat of his fingers through her uniform sleeve. He let his thumb
glide over the pulse point at her wrist, and she hoped he'd put her
racing heartbeat down to anger. "I was just teasing. I had
a really great time last night, and I'd love to do it again, anytime
you're ready." B'Elanna's expression softened when she saw the
frank look in his eyes.
"Yeah, he didn't
mean to hurt your feelings, B'Elanna," Harry chimed in. "It sure
is easy to get a rise out of you this morning."
B'Elanna brushed
past them both, her lips set into a smirk as she muttered, "Easier to
get a rise out of Tom." She heard his choked laughter just as the
mess hall door slid open and let them out into the corridor
beyond.
~^~^~^~
"…and the
next thing I knew, I woke up in sickbay with the doctor tut tutting at
me. He acted like it was all my fault, but I swear I didn't start
anything down there." Tom shook his head. "I really don't
remember much about it, but I'm alive, so I guess all that time I spent
in Marseilles in my senior year at the Academy was good for something
after all."
B'Elanna watched
him from across the briefing room table. She was slumped in her
seat, her shoulders forming a protective barrier between herself and
everyone else in the room. She was watching the captain,
too. During the course of his narrative, Janeway had done a slow
tour of the room, finally stopping behind Tom's chair. She was
leaning on it now, listening with rapt attention, and as he drew to a
close Janeway let her hand drift down to his left shoulder.
B'Elanna's eyes narrowed as the captain gave it a conciliatory
pat. That was her shoulder. B'Elanna distinctly remembered
claiming it the night before.
"Well, I'm glad
you're both back safe and sound," the captain said, glancing at Harry
to include him in the remark. "But I have to admit, it was
certainly nice and quiet on the bridge while you were gone, Tom."
Janeway sent him a warm smile and let her hand trail across his arm as
she moved back to her own chair.
B'Elanna felt a
low growl start in the base of her throat. She considered that
arm hers, too. She quickly turned it into a cough and looked
around, hoping no one had heard. Chakotay, who was seated to her
right, met her eyes with a tiny smile, and she frowned magnificently
back at him. And just what does he think he knows, she
wondered. She resisted the urge to huff at him. The captain
was speaking again, and B'Elanna did her best to pay
attention.
"I read the
doctor's report last night. That was quite a nasty wound you had,
Tom. How are you feeling now?"
"Well, I was a
little stiff this morning, but I worked out the kinks." He turned
his head to look at B'Elanna and raised an eyebrow. "That's a
nasty cough, B'Elanna. Maybe the doctor should… examine
you." He stressed the word slightly.
Harry looked
concerned. "Maybe something you ate last night didn't agree with you,"
he suggested. Tom's eyes dropped and he smirked into his coffee
cup.
"If you're not
well, Lieutenant, you should come to sickbay right away. You may
have picked up something while you were on shore leave. We don't
want to start a plague on board ship," the doctor said from the monitor
at the end of the room.
"That's not
necessary, I feel fine," she said curtly.
"I guess you do,"
Tom agreed.
Chakotay cleared
his throat loudly and looked significantly at Captain Janeway.
She took the hint and ended the briefing with, "Tom, Harry, I'm looking
forward to reading your reports. B'Elanna, I'd like you on the
bridge this morning."
"Yes, Captain,"
B'Elanna answered, surprised.
"If that's all,"
Janeway began, but Tom interrupted her before she could dismiss the
senior staff.
"Actually,
Captain, I was hoping to work my shift today. I feel fine, and
it's been a while since I've been at the helm. I'm a little
worried I might have lost my touch." His eyes slid to B'Elanna as
he said the last.
Janeway glanced
at the monitor, "Doctor, any objections?"
"Of course I
object," he said testily, "but will it make any difference? You
should be in bed, Mr. Paris."
"Now where would
be the fun in that?" Tom asked, the devil shining in his eyes. He
turned his attention to Janeway. "Please, Ma'am, can I have the
keys, just for a few hours. I won't go any faster than warp six,"
he promised.
His 'ma'am' had
sounded suspiciously like 'mom', and the captain smiled in spite of
herself. She threw up her hands in surrender. "Fine, Tom,
I'll let you drive for two hours. But if you have so much
energy, then I expect your full report by 1500.
Dismissed."
B'Elanna leapt
from her chair and headed toward the door to the bridge trying to
outrun Tom. She got stuck behind Harry, and Tom caught up with
her. She felt the heat from his body as he walked beside her so
close that it was obvious that he was invading her personal
space. Just as the doors slid closed behind her she heard
Chakotay mention her name and she realized that he and the captain had
stayed behind in the briefing room. She hesitated just long
enough for Tom to bump against her. He closed his hands on her
upper arms, steadying her, and murmuring an
apology.
She felt every
point on her body where he touched her with his own. She might as
well have been naked for all the protection her uniform afforded
her. It felt like an electric shock went through her, and she
tried to escape the sense memory of those hands on her bare
skin.
His breath was
warm and moist on her ear as he asked, "Are you all
right?"
She shrugged him
away and he took a half step back, but he let one hand glide up her arm
to her shoulder as he guided her up the short flight of steps to the
upper bridge. Get a hold of yourself, she thought, moving
quickly to her station. You're acting like a schoolgirl with a
crush on the star parrises squares
champion.
Tom stopped and
traded a few words with Sam Wildman, and B'Elanna was annoyed when she
saw Sam rest her hand on his. Why did every female on the ship
feel compelled to touch her— Her what? Man?
Boyfriend? Lover? This line of thinking was silly and
unproductive. Tom Paris wasn't any of those things to her; he was
a… life experience. A lapse in judgment that would
never, ever happen again.
Tom was her
friend, like Harry and Chakotay. And she had no intention of ever
sleeping with them; the thought was ludicrous. Of course, she'd
never intended to sleep with Tom either…
She sneaked a
sidelong peek at him as he relieved Baytart and took the helm.
She watched as he slid smoothly into the chair, then paused to survey
the readouts in front of him. He brought one hand up to caress
the top of the console, and B'Elanna shivered remembering a similar
caress along her spine. The air exchange system kicked in with a
soft hum, bringing a waft of Tom's cologne to her nose. The
memory of them together in his bed that morning washed over her,
enshrouding her senses the same way his scent had done a moment
earlier. She felt her body warm to the memory, and she closed her
eyes trying to still the fluttering in her stomachs. Reaching out
blindly to her console for support, her hand accidentally struck the
wrong key and it whistled shrilly.
"Sorry!" B'Elanna
said, risking a glance behind her.
Tom swiveled his
chair in her direction, his expression startled. But as he met
her eyes, and noted the flush on her cheeks, he smiled knowingly at
her, then turned back to his station.
~^~^~^~
"The dilithium
crystal articulation frame is connected to the matter/antimatter
reaction chamber. The matter/antimatter reaction chamber is connected
to the secondary plasma conduit. The secondary plasma conduit is
connected to the warp field coils. The warp field coils are
connected to the power transfer conduits. The power transfer
conduits are connected to the electroplasma system. The EPS is
con—"
"Don't forget
your internal flow regulator."
B'Elanna jumped
at the interruption. She'd been trying not to think about him all
afternoon, and finally had to resort to reciting the components of the
warp drive to purge him from her mind. And now here he stood, not
a meter in front of her. Tom lounged in the doorway of her
office, leaning against the door frame. His arms were crossed
lightly over his chest, accentuating the muscles in his upper arms and
shoulders. He stood quietly waiting for her to say
something.
"That—that's not part of the warp core," she
lied. He looked, well, yummy. She resisted the urge to
reach out and touch him. Tom just stood there and watched her,
his eyes traveling over her from head to toe and back again. She
felt his gaze as a physical touch, and she sucked in a sharp
breath. In the privacy of her office, she'd removed her jacket
and stood leaning against her desk wearing only her regulation
turtleneck. She swallowed a ragged breath as she straightened
quickly. "What do you want?"
"I missed you at
lunch. Are you avoiding me?"
"Of course not,
I'm just busy. I have a lot of work to do." When in doubt,
go on the defensive.
"I can see that,"
he smiled. "I have something for you," he said softly.
B'Elanna's eyes went wide, then flew to the padd in his
hand.
"A con report?"
she guessed.
Tom tore his eyes
from her face and looked at the padd as if just remembering it was
there. "No, that's my report for the captain. I came to give you
this." He held up his other hand and as he opened it a long scrap
of black lace unfolded and hung suspended from his thumb and index
finger. Her bra. "It's not exactly regulation," he said
huskily.
B'Elanna snatched
it from him and bunched it into her fist. With her other hand,
she grabbed his arm and pulled him from the doorway, allowing the doors
to swish closed. She realized too late that she also succeeded in
pulling him closer to her.
"I found it on my
plant," he said with a grin. "Remember, you said something about
a Christmas garland?"
B'Elanna felt her
cheeks burning at the memory. He'd answered her with a reference
to presents and wrapping paper, which she'd countered with a comment
about a big red bow. He moved a step closer, and she felt his
breath on her forehead. Another memory, his lips caressing each
ridge, came to her unbidden. He brought his hands up and rested
them palms down on her desk inches from her hips. She tried to
step away from him but she was pinned between her desk and his tall,
muscular body.
"Actually, I do
have something I wanted to mention to you. I noticed this morning
that there might be something wrong with my maneuvering
thrusters. Do you want to help me realign
them?"
B'Elanna
stiffened. She brought her chin up and glared at him. "Let
go of me," she demanded. Her voice was low and steady, though
inside she was shaking.
"I'm not touching
you," Tom pointed out. It didn't matter; she could feel his body
heat radiating toward her, and she wanted to lose herself in it.
An answering warmth spread through her body, and she stiffened to keep
herself from falling into him.
"You can forget
about whatever ideas you had when you came down here. If you want
a new hobby, try reading. I'm not going to kiss you ever
again." B'Elanna hoped fervently that her voice still sounded
even. She was sure he could hear her heart pounding loudly in her
chest.
Tom hesitated a
moment, then lowered his lips to her ear, "Then we won't kiss," he
whispered. B'Elanna gasped as he caressed her with his jaw,
skimming her face from her temple to her chin. He nuzzled the
skin under her ear, then brushed his lips across her own as he brought
his mouth up to her other ear. The touch was fleeting, a
hair's-breadth of distance between his skin and her
own.
"It's a shame,
though, since you're so good at it." He skimmed his lips down her
throat, his not-quite-kiss leaving a trail of fire on her skin.
"I guess you don't want me to touch you either," he said bringing his
hands up to cup her face.
B'Elanna shook
her head, dislodging the light grip. "No," she
breathed.
"Does this
count?" he asked, turning his hands so his knuckles rested on her
shoulders. Her head fell back as he brushed his hands down over
the points of her breasts, barely touching her nipples through her
clothing, then down further still across her ribs to her waist.
He gripped her then, lifting her onto the desk and nudging her legs
apart to stand between them.
She ached to
touch him, to caress him, but she kept her hands fisted against his
chest, acting as a barrier keeping him from pulling her completely into
his arms. Her breath caught in her throat as he bent to nuzzle
her breasts. His hands snaked down onto her thighs, his fingers
spreading wide over the dark fabric of her uniform pants. His
thumbs began an insistent kneading along her inner thighs, working
their way to the juncture of her legs. He straightened, and
B'Elanna's head fell forward onto his chest. He hooked his chin
on top of her head and spoke into her hair. "B'Elanna… I
need to feel your skin on mine again. You need it too, I know you
do."
What the hell was
she doing? "No," she shook her head, pulling away from him.
Then more strongly, "No. We can't let that happen
again."
Tom looked
startled, "Why not? B'Elanna, what happened last night meant a
lot too me. You… mean a lot to me," he
faltered.
She pushed him
away and scrambled around the desk. "No, Tom. We're
friends, that's all. Last night was a mistake, and we have to
pretend that it never happened."
Tom looked hurt
now, his face hardening as he took in her words. "And what about
this morning? Am I supposed to forget that too? Well you
may be able to, but I know I sure as hell won't." He softened
then as he gazed at her for a long moment. Suddenly she found her
shoes fascinating. "Not for a long time."
Tom took a step
to the door, then stopped to turn back to her, one arm flung out toward
her. "Have dinner with me tonight, please."
"That's a bad
idea," she said vehemently.
"Why? Don't
you trust me? Or is it yourself you don't trust?" He smiled
teasingly, "I promise, no pudding."
"Get out!" she
shouted. "Before I—I break your jaw." He was at once
contrite, but it was too late. "Now!"
"Alright," he
said, "but I'm not going to forget this. We're good together
B'Elanna. Why don't you let go of whatever it is that's bothering
you long enough to admit that, if only to yourself."
The doors slid
closed on him, and B'Elanna looked around for something to throw.
She realized that she still held last night's bra in her hand, and it
struck her that he still had her panties.
~^~^~^~
And apparently he
intended to keep them. Or make her come to him for them. It
had been two days since their fight in her office, and Tom was
obviously avoiding her. He was coolly professional on the bridge,
and wholly polite if they met in any common areas of the ship. If
she happened to join him and Harry for a meal, he would make a valid
excuse and leave shortly after she sat down.
It hurt, she
realized. It stung more to know that she was the one who had
pushed him away. And she didn't even know why she had done
it. She wanted him. Badly. So badly she could, well,
taste it. And not just in her bed, she wanted him. To talk
with, brainstorm with, joke with. And certainly the workout had
been fun too. But she'd sensed that he wasn’t just after
fun. He'd become so serious, so quickly that it had thrown
her. She was used to having men make excuses to leave, not to
stick around. So, she shoved him away, despite an almost
overwhelming desire to pull him closer. It didn't make any sense
to her, she decided. She thought she'd worked out his
motivations, it was her own that confused her.
She was in bed,
trying to get an early night's sleep but it was eluding her as her
thoughts chased each other around her head. Tom hadn't just
'performed above and beyond the call of duty' and then been a gentleman
about it the next morning. He'd assumed a relationship existed
from practically the first kiss. Or maybe it was because of what
came after that kiss. And it was her fault for not deterring
him. For having sex with him four more times, she chided
herself. Fine. Lay fault where it belongs.
She'd led him on, and then hurt his feelings instead of letting him
down easy.
Well, it was his
fault too, she rationalized. He should have known that it was all
for fun, that they couldn't get serious. She'd only handled him
the way she'd always dealt with this kind of situation—end it,
abruptly. There had been a few men—boys really—in the
Academy and the Maquis who'd thought themselves infatuated with her,
and she'd been just as harsh with them. She just didn't have time
or energy to devote to a relationship. Especially to the end of a
relationship. She'd seen couples break up on Voyager, and some
had not been pretty partings. With their positions on the senior
staff, she and Tom had to be able to work together, so it was best to
end it before it had begun. Well, slightly after it had
begun.
And that was his
fault too. If Tom had been a different sort of man—the man
that the rumors had made him out to be—they could have had a few
fun filled weeks or months, then both could have gone on to other
relationships and still been friends. Oh, who was she trying to
kid? Her thigh muscles were still sore, and she'd seen Tom
continually stretching his shoulders on the bridge this
afternoon. The only thing worse than the morning after,
apparently, was two days later.
So it was obvious
that neither one of them had had a relationship to come from, though
she herself had an offer of one to go to. Freddy Bristow was
starting to become a nuisance. Aside from the fact that he was
too young for her, and obviously caught up in the 'Klingon female'
mystique, he wasn't who she wanted. He wasn't Tom
Paris.
She punched her
pillow ruthlessly. She was supposed to be thinking up excuses not
to become involved with Tom. But it was no use. Her body
remembered what she willed her mind to forget. His hands on her
face, his fingertips lightly caressing her ridges, her cheekbones, her
lips.
:My god,
you're so beautiful:
:No, I’m
not:
:You're the
loveliest thing I've ever seen. My wild Klingon
beauty:
And then he'd
kissed her again, heating her so quickly, she thought her blood might
boil in her veins. He'd scooped her up into his arms and carried
her to the bed, and after he'd laid her down he'd simply looked at her,
memorizing every line of her body. She'd tried to cover herself,
but he wouldn't let her.
:Don't
hide from me, B'Elanna. I need to see you. I need to know
that you're real:
B'Elanna jumped
up with a roar. This was getting her nowhere. She didn't
want to be alone in her empty bed feigning sleep. She wanted to
be with Tom in his. So why was she denying it? Why was she
denying herself the pleasure of his body against
hers?
Before she could
talk herself out of it, she reached for a pair of pants and pulled them
on. She picked up her combadge on her way to the door and headed
out of her quarters almost at a run.
~^~^~^~
It was later than
she'd thought. The corridor was dimmed for Voyager's false
night, and this time she didn't pass anyone on her way to Tom's
cabin. She paused outside his door, debating whether or not to
sound his door chime. Whether or not to just turn around and
leave. Her hand hovered over the call button, then moved to the
key pad. Quickly, she keyed in her override code and slipped
between the doors.
Tom's quarters
were dark, but she could see his form in the dim red light from above
the bed. She toed off her boots and moved closer, not making a
sound. She didn't want to wake him—well, not until she'd
decided. If you haven't decided already, what are you doing
here? she chided herself.
She caught her
breath as she saw him. He was bare-chested and lying on his back
with one arm flung over his head. The muscles of his arm and
shoulders were highlighted by the ruddy glow from the night light, and
B’Elanna let her eyes roam over him. He was broader than he
appeared in his uniform; his chest and upper arms more clearly
defined. His face looked rounder and more innocent in sleep and
he'd lost the hardness around his eyes that she'd become used to seeing
the last few days. She reached for him, but hesitated. The
urge to touch him was so strong, she felt her stomach muscles contract
with desire.
She leaned over
him, and as her eyes roamed over his body, she sighed softly.
She’d made a mistake. She shouldn’t be here watching
Tom sleep. She had to leave.
But she found
that she couldn’t. As foolish as it sounded, she ached to
touch him.
She reached for
him, leaning slightly over the bed. His arms shot out and he
captured her wrist as he grasped her around the waist and rolled them
onto the bed. He pulled her close to him and pressed his long
body against hers.
“You
certainly took your time," he said softly. "I promised myself if
you didn’t come to me by tonight I’d go to your quarters
and get you in the morning.”
B’Elanna
was pinned between Tom and the bed as he leaned along the length of her
body, forcing her into the mattress. She could feel the rise and
fall of his chest and the strong, steady beat of his heart above her
own. His thumb was moving in distracting circles on her left
wrist, and she swallowed hard. “What if I was on the
bridge?” she asked.
“In that
case, I’d say good morning to the captain on my way to your
station,” he let his eyes wander along the length of her body,
“then, I’d sweep you off your feet and carry you off the
bridge.”
“I
don’t usually allow myself to be swept off my feet,” she
said a little breathlessly.
“How about
you make an exception?” he asked quietly. He was studying
her face intently, and he caught his breath waiting for her
answer.
She looked into
his eyes and saw that he was sincere; he didn't know how she would
answer him. "Maybe just this once," she said haltingly, "in your
case." She saw the slow smile spread across his face as he let go
of her wrist and pulled her fractionally closer to
him.
“What if
you have to wait for the turbolift?” she asked, starting to grin
at him. If he wanted to play, she was game.
He considered
this for a moment before replying. “Then I’d take you
into the briefing room.”
That surprised
her. “What if Tuvok tried to stop
you?”
“Oh, I
wouldn’t let him. I’d put a security lock on the
door, and you could use some old Maquis trick to keep anyone from
overriding it.” He was laughing now, and he'd lost the
hesitancy he'd had a moment ago. He tucked a strand of her hair
behind her ear, and let his fingers trace the curve of her cheekbone
and jaw.
B'Elanna leaned
into the touch. “And what makes you think I’d help
you?” She arched an eyebrow at him, playing
along.
“Oh, you
couldn’t resist. I know how you like to show off your
engineering skills.” His hand rested on her shoulder for a
moment, his fingers tracing a complicated pattern over the fabric of
her t-shirt. She felt their heat, and felt an answering surge of
warmth flow through her. He let his hand glide down her arm to
her waist, and he spread his fingers over the inch of skin visible
between her t-shirt and pants. B'Elanna shivered slightly,
arching her body so the contact was firmer. Tom's hand slipped
under her shirt, and his fingers trailed lightly along her ribs toward
her breast. He slowly let his palm glide over the curve of her
breast until he cupped it fully. His thumb found her nipple and
he pinched it gently.
B'Elanna gasped
and tried to focus on the game of words that they'd been playing.
What was her next line? “I do have other skills, you know,"
she breathed.
Tom tugged on her
nipple, and her breath caught. She felt a fire-storm of heat wash
over her, and fought the urge to flip him onto his back. He
reached for her t-shirt, lifting it to expose her breasts, then bent
his head and nibbled at the sensitive skin he found there. He
blew on one taut nipple, and B'Elanna convulsed in reaction.
“Oh really? And what would those skills be?” he asked
huskily.
“Well, the
d—doctor does seem to enjoy my diagnostics."
“Well,
that's because he knows how good you are with an interface probe.
You know, you never did look at my maneuvering thrusters.”
He raised himself slightly and slipped the t-shirt over her head, then
tossed it to the floor. He reclaimed the breast he'd just left,
swirling his tongue around the pebble hard nipple.
"We—we've
had a backlog in engineering. I'll have someone look into that as
soon as I can," she gasped.
"Oh, no," Tom
breathed. "I don't want just anyone. Only the chief will do
for me." He switched his focus to her other breast, and she
fought to keep her voice even.
"Why? The
ship is full of …competent engineers."
Tom paused and
raised his head to look in her eyes. All pretense of their game
was gone now. "I'm not interested in anyone else, B'Elanna.
I never really have been. You're the only one I
want."
B'Elanna just
stared at him, willing it to be true. "Well, …lucky for
you I'm available right now. What's the problem with your
thrusters, aren't they answering to helm control?"
Tom's lips
twitched at the question. "Not really. They seem to keep
powering up at the most inappropriate moments. In the mess," he
trailed his hand down to her waist. "On the bridge," he slipped
his fingers under the waistband of her uniform slacks. "Even
here, in the briefing room." He undid the fastener and started to
slide her slacks down her hips. "If you don't do something soon,
I'm afraid they might start firing randomly."
B'Elanna lifted
her bottom and helped Tom push the fabric down her legs. "We
can't have that; it would waste fuel." She kicked her legs free
and lay back down on the bed, watching Tom's reaction. He sucked
in a breath as he ran one hand down to her knee and back up to rest at
her hip. His eyes were drawn to the bronze silk panties—all
that was left covering her—and he ran his thumb along the lacy
fabric stretched across her belly. "God, don't you ever wear
anything that's regulation?"
"Only when we're
at battle stations," B'Elanna said, pleased by his shaky response to
her choice. The cloth was cool and silky, and just a shade darker
than her own skin. Tom leaned toward her and puffed a breath just
below her ear. "Aren't we at battle stations now? Or is
this a training simulation?"
She turned fully
into his arms, sliding her hands up his biceps toward his
shoulders. She thrilled at the feel of the firm muscles under her
fingers, and let her hands continue on to the curling red gold hair on
his chest. She leaned toward him then and licked at the hollow at
the base of his throat eliciting a moan. "I don't think we need
to run any more simulations. I think I finally know what I'm
doing."
"Does this mean
I'm allowed to kiss you now?" he asked softly. His body was
tensed beside her, his hands stilled on her waist waiting for her
reply.
"I think that
would fall within the parameters of the—"
Tom pulled her
roughly against him, covering her mouth with his own. His hands
ran up her back, molding her body to his as he kissed her
hungrily. He teased her lips apart and ran his tongue along her
teeth before she opened her mouth to him. She moaned into the
kiss, and he dug his fingers into the smooth flesh of her upper arms,
pulling her even closer. She tensed, then pushed against his
chest and shoulders, rolling him onto his back so she sat astride his
hips. She ground into him, loving the feel of his erection
between her thighs.
He pulled her
down to lie on top of him, trailing hungry kisses along her throat and
jaw. "I haven't been able to think of anything but you in days,"
Tom said. He ran his hands down her back to her rounded bottom and
cupped her through the bronze silk. "I need to feel all of you,"
he murmured against her throat. He slipped his hands under her
panties and tried to pull them off, but he was hampered by her position
above him. She giggled as he struggled with the skimpy covering,
then laughed as he pushed her back over onto the bed and sat up to pull
them free of her legs. He rose on one knee to pitch them into the
corner, and as the sheet fell from his waist she realized that he was
naked.
She felt a
blazing fire in her core then, and her body hummed with responsiveness
for this man. Her man. She could let herself feel it now,
she could shout it on the bridge and not feel weakened or ashamed by
the emotions running through her. "Be careful with those," she
heard herself say shakily, "you've lost one pair already and I'm low on
rations, remember?"
Tom paused, just
taking in the glorious sight of her. "I didn't lose them," he
said thickly, knowing what she was referring to. He bent and
placed a kiss on her raised knee, "It just took me two days to find
them." He kissed his way slowly up her thighs. "They were
wedged between the sofa and the side table."
She felt a ripple
of pleasure as he swirled his tongue along the point of her hip, and
gasped when he grazed her lightly with his teeth. She wiggled her
hips insistently, and felt his warm breath against her belly as he
laughed. "You're impatient tonight," he said, "but I think I want
to take it slow. I want to remember everything in case you change
your mind tomorrow."
"I won't change
my mind. I want this Tom." She pulled him up to kiss him
and looked into his eyes, dark and drowsy with passion. B'Elanna
raised her mouth to his and kissed him softly, slowly gliding her
tongue over his lips before deepening the kiss. She was half
sitting, resting against the pillows, and she pulled him more firmly
over her body, reveling in the contact. Skin on warm skin.
Tom groaned against her mouth and she pulled her lips away to whisper
in his ear. "Where will you put me down?"
He stilled for a
moment, obviously confused by the question. "On the briefing room
table, or on one of the chairs?" She sucked his earlobe into her
mouth and flicked it with her tongue, then pushed him onto his back as
she straddled him and kissed his temple. Her pubic hair grazed
his stomach, and he caught his breath. "Are we going to watch the
stars?" she prodded.
Tom laughed
against her throat. "The only thing I see is you." He
kissed her lingeringly one more time. "I put you on the table,
then I stand in front of you and open your uniform jacket and take it
off. I pull your turtleneck from your pants and slide my hands
underneath to cup your breasts. I've been wanting to touch you
for so long; at every briefing."
B'Elanna dropped
soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, then nibbled her way down his
neck to his shoulder. She shimmied down his body, her breasts
grazing the hair curling on his chest. Her bottom caught on his
erection and she raised slightly until she could capture it between his
stomach and her slick folds. He moaned and thrust upwards, but
she looked up at him and whispered, "Not yet." His head was
thrown back against the pillows and his eyes were closed. "Then
what do you do?" she asked.
"I tear your
shirt open, and pull it off. I need to see you." His hands
clenched on her shoulders as she ran her tongue around his
nipple. He bucked his hips convulsively, breaking the contact of
her lips on his skin. He hissed a breath and pushed her head back
down to his chest. "B'Elanna…" he
moaned.
"What am I
wearing?" she brought him back to the game with the soft question, then
found his nipple again and gave it a tiny bite.
"Your
bla—black bra. I bend my head and suck on your nipples
through the lace."
B'Elanna grinned
against his chest and shifted her attention lower as she settled her
bottom across his thighs. She ran her hands down his chest to his
groin, and slowly drew one finger down his hard shaft from the head to
the base.
"What am I
doing?" she asked, her voice was like velvet.
Tom's mouth
lifted in a smile, and he brought his fists up to his eyes.
"You're saying my name in that soft, sexy way that I love. I run
my fingertips up your arms and slide your bra straps down. I use
my teeth to push your bra off your breasts and I lick at them, first
one then the other. You're shivering."
B'Elanna closed
her eyes and she felt herself sway at the image. Her fingers
convulsed on his erection and she felt it jump in response. She
rolled his sack in her hands, playing with him, enjoying the feeling
that she could touch him, lay claim to him in the most intimate
ways. She lowered her head and dropped light kisses from his
chest to his belly, then nudged his penis aside to dip her tongue into
his navel.
Tom moaned
softly. "Please," he whispered. She flicked the engorged
head with her tongue, slowly lapping at the silky skin. "I
s—sit down, and pull you to the edge of the table. I pull
open the fastener on your pants. I'm in such a hurry, I tear the
seam. I push you down onto the table and pull them off.
You're wearing your black panties, and I snap the strings at your
hips. You're so beautiful in the starlight I can hardly
breathe."
B'Elanna ground
her center against his knee, craving the contact she was
imagining. "Taste me," she moaned breathlessly, then lowered her
mouth onto his achingly hard penis. She tasted the salty fluid at
the tip, and swirled her tongue all around the silky smooth
head.
"I sit down in my
chair and grab your hips. I pull you toward me, and I hook your
legs over my shoulders. You cross your ankles behind my neck,
drawing me closer. I can smell you, and you're spicy and
sweet. I want to taste you so much, my head is swimming."
B'Elanna raised her head, letting him slide out of her mouth. She
licked him from base to tip and back down again, alternating rough laps
of her tongue with gentle caresses from her
lips.
Tom gasped and
reached for her hair, stilling her. "God, B'Elanna, s—stop
for a minute."
She looked into
Tom's eyes, her own huge and dark with arousal. "What do you do
next?" she asked, her eyes not leaving his face.
He was speaking
directly to her now, relating the fantasy for her as he caressed her
cheek. "I reach for you, and run my thumb through your
hair. You're warm and wet, and I want to thrust into you, but I
stop myself. I slide one finger into you, and you clench around
it." He closed his eyes and licked his lips. His breath
came out in a shudder. "I lean forward and kiss your belly, and
you're shivering. I'm moving my finger inside you, and you're
lifting your hips, moaning my name over and over, begging me for
more. You're ready for me, but I need to taste you
first."
B'Elanna dropped
her head and took him fully into her mouth this time, sucking sharply
on his hard length and milking him with her tongue. She heard him
gasp, but the sound was lost with her own whimpering as his words
almost pushed her toward an orgasm.
He spoke in
stilted gasps, breathy and low in the near darkness. "I kiss your
thighs and the point of your hip, then I part you and kiss you softly
on your clit, barely touching. You're thrashing on the table and
I dig my hands into your hips to hold you still; I'm afraid I'll leave
bruises on your skin."
B'Elanna ground
herself into his leg one more time, then swung off him to position
herself beside him on the bed. He reached for her and slipped
first one, then a second finger inside her. She bucked against
his hand and raised her head to moan against his
belly.
"I lick you then;
one long slow lap from one end of you to the other. I cup your
ass and raise you a little so I can reach you, and I'm kneading your
cheeks. Your skin is so soft and smooth. I want to lose
control and bury myself in you, but I'm waiting."
"You're still
dressed," she laughed softly.
"No I'm not, you
told the computer to transport the clothes off me."
"I am a talented
engineer," she said, gasping as his fingers slid back into her warm
depths.
"I thrust my
tongue into you instead, and I can hear you growl, low in your
throat. I think I'll die when I hear you make that
sound."
B'Elanna thrust
hard against his hand, and fell down beside him on the bed. He
rolled toward her, and she ran her teeth over his shoulder, fighting
the urge to mark him. Her world compressed into hot breath and
sweat, and she clung to him to keep from drowning in her desire.
"Please Tom," she was almost begging now, not caring that she had been
the one to prolong the moment a short time ago. She tugged on his
shoulders, pushing his head toward her breasts and further still.
"Really do it, I … I need you to …" A sudden
shyness wouldn't let her finish, and she turned her head into the
pillow.
He rose onto his
knees and kissed her mouth lingeringly. "Don't be shy with me,
B'Elanna. Don't be afraid to tell me what you want." He
kissed her breast, tugging hard on one nipple before moving
lower. He scattered tiny kisses along her ribs and belly, then
settled between her thighs with a sigh. "Tell me what happens
next."
"I sit up, and
I'm riding your mouth, but it's not enough. I need to feel you
inside me." B'Elanna wound her fingers in his hair, locking him
in place so he wouldn't think she really wanted him to stop. He
nibbled on the silken folds of skin, working his way to her hot
center. He slid his hands under her bottom, raising her to his
mouth. There was no finesse in his technique; he lapped at her,
grazing his teeth over her swollen nub, and B'Elanna raised her hips
and cried out as shockwaves of pleasure tore through
her.
He blew a hot
breath onto her skin, and tightened his grip on her firm
buttocks. His voice was ragged as he asked, "What do I
do?"
B'Elanna pressed
against his mouth, unwilling to lose the contact for an instant.
She tried to gather her scattered thoughts, and words came to her
through the blinding light and pleasure that radiated from the very
core of her. "You … you pull me onto your lap," she
gasped. "You slide into me in one long stroke. You feel so
good, like you were made for me."
Tom moaned
against her flesh, the vibration sending new waves of pleasure coursing
through her. Her hands were opening and closing in his hair, tugging
sharply at his scalp.
"You're being so
gentle with me, but it's not enough. I need to really feel you,
and I beg you to pound into me." B'Elanna's head thrashed on the
pillow, her hair flying around her face in wild disarray. She
felt Tom's tongue probe into her, and she bucked her hips hard against
his face, forcing his teeth against her tender flesh. He pulled
back slightly, murmuring, "sorry" and she followed him, whimpering his
name.
"Tom, don't stop,
please..." She tried to focus on the story, grasping for words
and images, but her world had compressed to Tom's hot breath on her
belly as he sucked on her nub. The shuddering started in her
legs, and as the orgasm washed over her, blinding her, she raised one
hand to her mouth trying to contain her shout. She cried out and
bucked against him, almost trying to get away from the intense pleasure
caused by his lips and tongue. He hung on to her, pressing his
fingers into her hips, and part of her mind hoped he would leave
bruises on her.
She sagged
against the sheets, spent, and he slowly kissed his way up her hips and
belly, his hands gliding over her thighs and ribs. He sucked a
nipple between his teeth, and she convulsed as lightening-quick
pleasure coursed through her from the simple touch. He brushed
the hair from her eyes tenderly, his fingers trailing down her face to
rest on her parted lips.
"I do what you
want," he murmured, "I'm your slave." He leaned forward and
kissed her again softly, then with more pressure. Her body was
alight and ready to respond to him instantly. And she needed
him. Now.
She rose up, her
hands sliding across his chest as she lifted one leg over his
hips. "I need you inside me. Now. No more
games."
Tom's hands
gripped her waist as he guided her down onto him. She heard him
gasp as she grazed his erection, then his breath came out in a long
hiss as she lowered herself onto him. She gave herself over to
the feeling of him filling her, and they hung there together suspended
in time.
He pushed into
her; a gentle thrusting motion of his hips, and she gasped at the
pleasure that rippled through her body. She rode with him for a
few moments, rising with his hips and sinking back with him against the
mattress. But soon it wasn't enough and she reversed her motions,
thrusting against him in a hard, driving rhythm that they both found
together. He reached for her, his fingers sliding over her sweat
slicked skin, but she arched away from him and his hands settled on her
thighs, grasping her taut muscles with each thrust of his hips.
He raised his knees and she leaned against his legs, her hands grasping
his ankles, and she used the leverage to thrust harder against
him.
He pulled her
down onto his chest and rolled her onto her back, almost breaking their
connection. She whimpered at the threat of the loss, almost not
hearing his whispered confession. "I need to feel all of
you. I love you … love you."
She felt his body
all along her own as she strained against him. She fisted her
hands on his back, grasping him to her with her arms and legs as he
drove into her. She rained kisses on his cheek, his jaw, his
shoulder, letting her teeth graze his skin. He was pounding into
her now, losing their rhythm as he grew closer to his own climax, but
she didn't care. "Please, B'Elanna." He was begging her,
wanting something from her, but she didn't know what it was. She
was panting now, her mouth open against the curve of his shoulder, and
she felt the coiling heat start in her belly and spread to her
limbs. She bit down hard as the wave of pleasure hit her, unable
to control the impulse even as her mind registered the savagery of the
act and recoiled.
Tom started, then
shuddered, thrusting into her twice more before he held her still,
pinned beneath his larger body. "Yes," he breathed over and over
again into her hair.
After
minutes—hours?—he raised up to look at her, and smiled at
her. His expression was open, unguarded, and he almost radiated
joy. He kissed her leisurely, enjoying the taste of her, sealing
his claim on her. He rolled off of her, keeping his arm around
her and bringing her with him, and she settled against him fitting
herself to his long body.
She stretched her
sweat covered limbs along his, leaning stiffly against him for a
moment. She wanted to raise her leg and twine it with his own,
but the stickiness between her legs prevented her from doing it.
She'd heard about the phenomenon, but she'd never experienced cuddling
before. She wasn't sure what to do.
"Relax," Tom
murmured sleepily in her ear. He ran a hand down her back and
across her bottom, then lifted her leg to slide it onto his own.
Her knee rested just below his penis which was still damp from their
juices, and softening. She nudged it, but nothing significant
happened. He pulled her snug against him, driving her moist pubic
hair against his thigh and he sighed contentedly.
She felt
wanton. Immodest. And it felt so right to be with Tom this
way.
She settled her
head against his shoulder, and drifted sleepily, letting her body
relax. A thought came to her just before sleep claimed
her.
"What would you
have done if I'd been in the mess hall?"
THE
END
~^~^~^~
A little
note: If you want to know what a maneuvering thruster is, look it
up at the library section of startrek.com the official site. Then
you can mourn the fact that I didn't fit in anything about its primary
use. (You really have to start thinking dirty folks, if you want
to get the joke ...)
And I know
that's not what you use an interface probe for, but the name was too
suggestive to pass up.
Love,
Birca
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