Chutes and Ladders
by Birca

Last Updated: August 12, 2001 
Click here to go to Birca's Home Page...
Title:       Chutes and Ladders 
Author:         Birca
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?"



A little note:  If you want to know what a maneuvering thruster is, look it up at the library section of 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.


So, did you like Birca's first story? If so, write her!
All stories by Birca - Last Updated August 12, 2001
All characters, concepts, photos, images, & terminology belong to Paramount Pictures.

Visitors to Birca's story since 8/12/2001: