Ass Man
by Birca
I've entered a contest!
Title:           Ass Man 
Author:        Birca
Email:         birca@hotmail.com

Rating:        NC-17 for a few bad words and lots of sex! 

Pairing:        P/T. I’m a sucker for Tom and B’Elanna smut.

 Synopsis:  Takes place right after Caretaker. A few missing scenes from Parallax… the one where B'Elanna breaks Joe Carey's nose. 

Disclaimer: They're for wussies. Unless you're entering a contest, in which case, they're required. So, um, Paramount owns them blah-blah, no infringement implied blah-blah, I'm not worthy blah-blah...

Notes: Thanks to Aki's website for the transcript of Parallax.  All you transcript people are the unsung heroes of fanficcers!

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Tom Paris was an ass man.  While the other boys at his exclusive prep school in Boston were mesmerized by Mrs. Cook's gravity defying—and somewhat suspect—bosom, he was lusting after Ms. Malay, the gym coach.  Mrs. Cook may have been lush up front, but she was far too skimpy from behind. The gym teacher, however… He sighed, remembering.  She was firm and rounded and …lush.  Definitely lush.

His father had rejoiced in young Tommy's interest in sports, and Tom willingly joined the cross-country and downhill teams. But he drew the line at wrestling.  That coach was male.  Of course, if the school had been co-ed, and they'd had mixed teams…

Tommy’s fortunes had gone up and down since graduation.  Starfleet Academy had been a veritable cornucopia of datable females—a playground for his too-long restrained libido. And he'd taken advantage of the interest his own ass attracted.  Then had come the whole Caldik Prime disaster, followed by the Maquis fiasco… then jail time in Auckland. Dates—sex—had been few and far between for the last few years. 

On Voyager, Tom suddenly found himself back in the playground.  The ship boasted eighty-odd female crewmembers, all regrettably covered by regulation trousers that left everything to the imagination.  Still, it was a wealth of woman-flesh.  Especially after the way he'd been forced to spend his "summer vacation". 

Now that the Caretaker had taken his toll and Voyager was stuck in the Delta Quadrant, the female crew contingent was down to seventy-something.  Tom felt the loss keenly.  Still, he wasn’t about to dwell on it.  He was a red-blooded Terran male who hadn't been laid in well over a year, and he intended to do something about it! 

Soon.

He'd visited the gym frequently in the few days before they'd reached the Badlands—thank god for replicators and stretchy workout clothes!—and he'd noticed that the Delaney sisters routinely drew a crowd of admirers. Oh, they were pretty enough, and both could give Mrs. Cook a run for her money, but they left a little something to be desired in his opinion.  They were a little…flat.  As opposed to rounded.  Gently curved.  High and firm and well-muscled.  Oh my. 

The current object of Tom's appreciative glances was definitely not a Delaney. Plus, since she didn't know he was there, he was able to look his fill. She was bent over waist deep in a Jefferies tube—he was eminently grateful she wasn't knee-deep—standing with the toes of one foot precariously balanced on a ladder rung, obviously reaching for something deep inside the tube.  Her round, high, firm buttocks, made firmer by the stretch, was just… there.  In front of him.  At eye level.  Okay, eye level if he stooped a bit.

Tom stooped. 

He heard a clang, followed by a grunt of pain and a shouted curse.  "Damn it!" 

B'Elanna's body jerked. Her toes lost their grip on the ladder and she started to slide toward the floor.  Tom instinctively dropped his padd and reached for woman.  He grabbed the first thing his hands came in contact with, and hauled her snuggly against his chest to prevent her from falling.  Both his hands were filled with a round firm breast—a surprisingly pleasant sensation—but only for a nanosecond.  Her elbow shot backward with astonishing speed and caught him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and almost blinding him with pain.  The air left his lungs with a whoosh, and the mammary glands left his hands with a sonic boom.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"  The enraged woman spun on her heel and faced him, looking ready to maim if need be.  But there wasn't any need.  Tom Paris was sufficiently cowed.

"Jesus," he wheezed. "I think you cracked a rib."

"I'll crack your head if you touch me again!"

"I was just trying to help."  Tom lifted his head and stared her in the breast.  He was a full head taller than B’Elanna, but bent over in pain as he currently was, he'd lost all his height advantage.  Her chest was heaving, and he couldn't be sure through the armor-plated 'fleet uniform, but it looked like her nipples were erect.  Must be anger, he thought.  Not that he'd ever gotten a hard-on when he was furious…

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.  She was fuming, and looked ready to punch him just for the practice. 

Tom lifted a hand from his knee and raised it in front of him to ward her off.  "I just came to give you this," he said.  His voice cracked and he coughed.  She stiffened and glared at his hand, and her meaning wasn't lost on him.  Tom wrapped an arm around his gut and straightened painfully, drawing a cautious breath as he did so.  It was tight in the cramped junction, and he didn’t want to risk accidentally brushing against her and having her think he was copping a feel.  Again. 

He motioned to the padd that had clattered to the floor when she clocked him, and breathed out slowly.  "That," he said.  "Carey said to give it to you."

She looked even more suspicious now.  "What is it?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in a deep frown. 

"Nav repair list.  I guess he wants you to get right on it.  If you're done here."  He gestured toward the tube behind her head and raised an eyebrow.  She still hadn't made a move to pick up the padd, and Tom suspected that she wasn't going to, either.  Damn.  Bending over to get it himself was going to hurt like a sonofabitch! 

He decided to try a little conversation instead.  "You look better.  I guess the doc got rid of that virus thing, huh?  Harry says he's still kinda achy.  How do you feel?"

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms under her bosom.  She stared him down.  "Why don't you tell me, Paris?"

He chuffed at her, then his mouth stretched into his most charming smile.  "Now, c'mon, Torres.  I was just trying to catch you.  You could have broken your neck."

"Well you caught something all right, didn't you?  Look, I'm not some stupid little 'fleet chippie.  You feel the urge to grope someone, pick someone who wants to wear this uniform.  Touch me again and I'll show you what pain really feels like."

He knew her glower was intended to intimidate, but he fought the urge to laugh.  In the crowded junction of the tubes, she looked even smaller than she really was, and he had a hard time feeling daunted by someone he could easily toss over his shoulder and carry up the ladder.  He could probably carry her all the way to the bridge without breaking a sweat.  He grinned imagining that lovely bottom pressed against his face—cheek to cheek as it were—for seven decks. 

"I thought Chakotay told you guys to leave me alone?"  He cocked his head and rubbed a hand over his aching ribs.  "I'll bet he'd be pretty upset with you over this."

She scowled.  "Don't try to pretend you're hurt."

Tom gritted his teeth through the pain and flashed her his best dimples.  "I'm fine.  But next time I think I'll just let you fall."  He stared at her a few minutes longer, then shook his head and stooped to pick up the padd.  He handed it to her, turned on his heel and left.  You just couldn't reason with a Maquis.

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"Hu'tegh," B'Elanna muttered.  "Arrogant, condescending…'fleeter!  Moron probably doesn't remember how to change a chip himself." 

She was crammed into the thruster control relay replacing forty seven thousand singed isolinear chips, and she wasn’t happy about it.  A first year cadet could do it blindfolded.  Tom Paris could do it blindfolded!  With one arm tied behind his back!  She'd like to blindfold him and tie— 

She cut off that train of thought immediately!  He hadn't changed since their short association in the Maquis—he was still a wise-ass, good-time boy looking out for his own best interests.  Well, so would she.  Those dimples and pretty blue eyes may have swayed her once, but not now!  No way.  She knew all about Tom Paris, and she wasn't about to make that mistake twice.

Not that anything had happened the first time.  But she would have let it happen if he'd shown any real interest.  Any exclusive interest… she frowned again and bit her lip.  She was not going to go on that loop again!  It was better that she hadn't acted on her attraction to him.  Especially now that they were trapped in the Delta Quadrant together.  Kahless!  If she'd actually given in to the urge…if she'd let him into her room that night…

Nope.  No.  Absolutely no more thinking of Paris.  Unless she thought of him by his full title: Paris-the-Swine.  She grinned.  Paris-the-Swine-in-pain!  Yep, much better.  She wondered if she really had cracked his rib.  She hoped so.

The last chip slid into place, and B'Elanna slammed the housing onto the consol, then stood up and stretched.  Carey had better have some real work for her to do, she thought, unconsciously scowling at her kit as she put the tools back in place and snapped the lid closed.  Or she might just crack one of his ribs, too!

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She wanted to roar.  She wanted to punch something—again!  She was so angry, she felt like she could explode.  Of all the times for Chakotay to walk into engineering… She'd been so good; she'd taken it, they all had.  And to have Chakotay show up just as she'd finally lost her temper with that… that…Toh-pah!  And the look he'd given her, not anger, but disappointment tempered with something else.  As if he'd been expecting her to let him down all along.  As if he'd just been waiting for the confirmation call from Carey. 

"Arrgh!"  She roared her frustration as she punched her code into the security panel beside her cabin.  As the doors slid smoothly open, she tore through them, snapping her head around the bland, boring, Starfleet quarters.  Finally her eyes lit on a couch cushion. She grabbed it and tossed it across the room with all the fury she could muster.  It hit the far wall with a muted thump that did little to take the edge off her anger.  She picked up an ugly standard-issue vase and it followed the path of the cushion, arcing slightly higher than the pillow, before smashing against the bulkhead, shattering on impact.  She grunted her satisfaction.

"What the hell?!"  The startled shout came from behind her, and she whirled to see a dripping, naked man standing in her bathroom doorway. 

"What are you doing here?" they shouted in unison. 

B'Elanna's jaw dropped.  Tom Paris.  Soaking wet, almost naked Tom Paris, a little voice in her head corrected.  He had a plain, white, boring standard-issue towel draped loosely around his hips.  So loosely it looked like it was about to fall off.  Light reflected off tiny beads of water caught in the sandy blond hair on his chest, and his skin shimmered with moisture.  His shoulders looked impossibly wide and well-defined.  Wasn't Paris skinny?  She could have sworn he was skinny…

Her eyes strayed to his face.  His hair was plastered to his forehead, and he blinked water from his eyes.  She stood mesmerized by a rivulet that coursed down his cheek to his chin, then dripped onto his chest and slowly wound a path to his groin.  The towel dipped down well below his navel, and she caught a glimpse of crisp, tightly curled pubic hair before he yanked the towel up a notch. 

Her face flamed and she snapped her mouth shut.  She'd only noticed the specifics because she was an engineer.  She had an eye for detail.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. 

"What do you think I'm doing here?" she replied with a glower.  She'd been thrown a bit at first, but she was getting her footing back, and she knew her glower was nothing to sneeze at.  A wet, naked man was no big deal.  She could handle him.  She did 'angry' very well. 

A slow smile spread across Paris' face, and he leaned against the doorway, resting his long frame on the wall.  "Well, in that case, you're a little overdressed." 

He'd pitched his voice low and seductive, and a shiver crawled along B'Elanna's spine before she could stop it.  She shook her head and sputtered.  "Wha… Get the hell out of my cabin, Paris!" she hollered.

His expression changed from seductive to dumbstruck with a little uncertainty thrown in for good measure.  "Your ca—what are you talking about?  These are my quarters, Torres."

"What?!"  She pivoted and took a look around the disputed room.  Where the hell were her candles?  And the blanket that she'd left on the couch?  She stomped into the sleeping alcove and searched the closet.  Her trunk was gone, too. 

He'd trailed behind her, leaving wet footprints on the carpet.  She whirled on him, indignation squirting out of her ears.  "Where the hell are my clothes?  Where's my stuff, Paris?"

He shoved the hair out of his eyes then deliberately opened and rewrapped the soggy towel around his hips, giving her an eyeful.  He shrugged.  "I dunno.  Are you sure you're on the right deck?"

"Right de—" The humor had entirely gone out of the situation.  God knew she didn’t have much, but she wanted it all!  Now!  "Where are my things?!" she shouted. 

"I dunno.  When I got here housekeeping had already been though.  I just assumed the place belonged to one of the…."  He stopped and shifted his stance a bit.  "Look, this is deck nine.  Are you sure you didn't get turned around?  It's a big ship." 

She'd been purposely not looking at him, surveying the mess he'd made of her neat cabin—clothing everywhere, the bed unmade, padds all over the place—but her head snapped up at that comment.  "I'm not lost, Paris," she seethed.  "You are in my cabin and I want you out now."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"The mess hall, I don't care."

"Dressed like this?  What will the boys think?" 

He indicated the towel, and her eyes dipped to his hips, then jumped back up to his chest.  She had an idea of what the girls would think…  She jerked her chin up a little higher.  "That's not my problem," she muttered.

He squinted at her.  "Just what is your problem?" he asked, his own anger rising to match hers.

Her jaw locked.  Blood pounded through her veins.  She saw red.  A sudden headache made her feel like her head was about to explode.  "Right now, you are—"

The door chime sounded, shrill and insistent, and B'Elanna started.  Tom moved toward the door, but she hissed at him, "Hide!" and he froze in mid-step.  "Now," she gritted.  After another moment he retreated to the bathroom. 

The chime beeped again, and in a fit of leftover fury she turned, scooped up a plate and threw it at the doors, causing them to slide open when the projectile came within sensor range.  Chakotay, who'd taken the doors' parting as a cue to enter, did a little hop and narrowly avoided getting hit by the flying dish.  He looked up at her, shocked and impatient.  "Here," he said, striding into the room and thrusting a padd at her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"The medical report on Lieutenant Carey."

"Lieutenant Carey is an idiot!" 



B'Elanna's voice came through the bathroom door loud and clear.  Of course, the fact that Tom had his ear pressed against the door could have had something to do with it.  Her strident tones made Tom back up a pace—man, she was mad!  Whatever had happened with Carey, he wished he'd been there to witness it.  She was kinda fun when she was mad.  He liked the way her eyes narrowed, and her ridges crinkled.  Tom's mouth quirked up in a grin as he listened.  Medical report, huh?  Must have been some argument.

"I don't want to hear it!" 

B'Elanna's voice may have carried well, but Chakotay's was somewhat muffled.  Tom glanced around the small bathroom.  His eyes fell on a drinking glass… well, he'd heard it was supposed to work.  He placed it carefully against the door, put his ear against the bottom and settled himself in place.

"Apologize?! He was the one who—"

"Not just a simple apology.  A personal one, over a …" Chakotay's voice dwindled to a mumble and Tom frowned.  Damn, it was just getting good.  He pressed his ear closer to the glass and held his breath.

"…not going to bond with him."  Tom raised an eyebrow.  Bond, huh?  That sounded like fun.

"…support from people like Carey."

"I don't need support from anybody."  She'd cut Chakotay off in mid-sentence.  Tom thought he heard a little uncertainty in her tone. 

"You are if you're gonna be chief engineer of this ship."

Tom almost dropped the glass.  B'Elanna's explosive 'Ha!' made the thin metal bathroom door vibrate.  He almost laughed, himself, imagining her as chief engineer of a Federation starship.  Well, he was chief helmsman…maybe the fates were still dishing out irony. 

He held his breath and listened, but couldn't hear anything.  He waited a full two minutes before pressing the control on the door and poking his head out.  B'Elanna was standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around her ribs, staring at her feet. 



B'Elanna was flummoxed.  Chief engineer… right!  The uniform must have gone to his head, brainwashed him.  Maybe there was something in the rations…

"He's nuts," Paris drawled from the doorway. 

She turned her head toward him and raised an eyebrow. 

"You?  Chief engineer?"  He let out a husky laugh. 

B'Elanna's eyebrows came down in a frown.  "What's that supposed to mean?"  One excuse, she thought.  Just give me one excuse…

"Oh, come on, B'Elanna!  I mean, you're smart enough, but…" he floundered, and she narrowed her eyes.  "This is a state of the art, top of the line ship, and you don’t have the training.  How can you be chief engineer?  How can you learn all the systems?" 

Her mouth dropped open at this last comment, and Tom held up a hand—with a water glass in it?—to ward her off.  "I'm not saying you're not smart, Torres; you're brilliant, we all know that.  But, I mean, let's face it: you couldn’t make it through the Academy without getting suspended.  You couldn't even make it here for a few days without doing… whatever it is you did to Carey.  What did you do to Carey?" 

She glared and turned away, hugging herself tightly.  She rubbed her hands along her uniform sleeves, hating the feel of the slick fabric against her skin.  Well, she could do something about that, at least.  She pulled the fastener down and whipped the jacket off, throwing it away from her with a snarl.

"Doesn't matter," Tom said, backing up slightly.  "My point is you aren't exactly a people-person, B'Elanna.  You never really have been.  You've got to work on those interpersonal skills if you want to rise in the ranks." 

He flashed her a conciliatory smile, and she glared harder.  Ranks.  Her fingers sought out the rank bar on her shirt collar, and she growled again.  It was fine for her to question her own abilities, but she didn't need him to agree!  She quickly pulled the shirt hem from her slacks and peeled it off, then wadded it up into a ball and threw it at him.  It hit him square in the middle of his naked chest and fell to the floor at his feet.

What the hell was wrong with him?!  He was still in the towel, still dripping water on her floor.  Didn't he own any clothes?  "I didn't ask for your opinion, Paris.  And I didn't ask for your advice.  Now get the hell out of my quarters!" 

He held up his hands in exasperation and closed his eyes, letting his head drop back.  He drew a deep breath, and B'Elanna watched his chest rise then slowly fall as he released a lungful of air.  Light played on the crisp curls of hair that decorated his upper body.  She swallowed hard.

"These are my quarters," he said slowly, enunciating each word clearly as if she were a child.  Or an idiot.  His eyes glittered at her, and she could tell that he was holding on to his own temper by a thread.  "Look, up until two hours ago, I was in guest quarters on deck two.  I had a whole wall of view ports where I could see the stars, and it's been a hell of a long time since I've had that privilege.  There was a real, separate bedroom with a huge bed that was actually long enough for me to stretch out on!  A sunken bathtub… believe me, I wouldn't be fighting with you over this…" he waved the glass around to indicate the room, "… cave… if I wasn't assigned here!"

"It’s mine!" B'Elanna shouted, regaining her equilibrium.  "This is my sofa, that's my glass," she grabbed it out of his hand and thumped it onto a corner table with a click, "and that is my towel!"  She reached out and caught an edge of the towel, whipping it off him and dropping it to the floor with an expert flick of her wrist.  Tom stood there naked and dripping—stunned—and she realized what she'd just done.  Her jaw dropped.  Then her eyes dropped.  Oh my. 

He was already half erect and growing larger.  He was beautiful.  Golden skin with a light dusting of fine, sandy brown hair, strong legs, wide shoulders, narrow hips… She let out a little moan.  Her eyes finally made the long journey back up to his face to find him heavy lidded and breathing quickly.  His lips—such beautiful lips—were parted as he struggled for air.  Her tongue poked out to wet her own.

Tom lunged at her, slamming her hard into the wall behind her back.  His hands found her waist, and he pulled at her undershirt, freeing it from the tight elastic waistband of her slacks.  He shoved the shirt up and over her breasts, then dipped his head and caught a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.  His hands dug into her ribcage as he held her tightly, and she gasped and clutched at his head, holding him firmly to her body. 

Pleasure rocked her, sharp and sweet, as he tongued her nipple.  Her belly contracted with the joy of it.  Her breasts swelled, her nipples hardened to tight points, and she heard Tom groan as he left one nipple to find the other.  Warmth spread through her as he closed his lips around it.  Heat centered between her legs, and she rubbed her body against his, trying to increase the feeling.  He broke from her breast just long enough to glance at her face, then his hands found the closure on her slacks, and he fumbled them open.

He dropped to his knees and tugged her pants down her hips impatiently, and she put a hand to his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped out of her boots.  They were both breathing quickly, and B'Elanna felt the zing of arousal for the first time in ages.  She gloried in it.  She quickly pulled her undershirt over her head and dropped it behind Tom's back, then threaded her fingers through his damp hair. 

He leaned in and kissed her belly. She shivered as his warm breath fanned across her skin.  His tongue snaked out and traced a damp circle around her navel, then dipped inside, and her belly contracted in response.  She gasped. 

"Turn around," he said, his voice a harsh whisper.  She did, and he immediately spread his hands over her buttocks, kneading her cheeks lightly.  Her thin, silky panties were no barrier to the heat of his palms, and she pressed her arms against the cool wall and rested her head against them as her whole body began to tingle.  He dropped kisses along her spine, and she shivered again, trying to decide if the sensation tickled or not.  His thumbs swept across her ass cheeks as he hooked his fingers into the stretchy lace waistband, pulling it out just far enough to kiss the indentation at the base of her spine. 

She shuddered, jerking away from him, and he shushed her and pulled her panties down over her hips.  He dragged his lips across her bottom, placing moist, open-mouthed kisses on her sensitive flesh.  Her clitoris was throbbing with blood; she felt like she could climax just from the sweet sensation of his breath on her skin.  She moaned and leaned into him. 

Tom nudged her leg with his forehead, forcing her to turn again, then kissed his way from the point of her hip down across the top of her thigh.  He trailed his tongue along the edge of her mound, teasing her, and she thrust shamelessly toward his mouth.  He parted her aching flesh with his thumbs, and touched his tongue to her lightly.  B'Elanna grunted, and her hands fell to the top of his head and pulled him flush against her.  His long fingers dug into her hips as he began to lave her, and she jerked against him as her body responded to the shocks his mouth was sending through her. 

When she felt a finger probe her opening, petting her, she hissed a low "Yes…" 

He slipped one, then a second, finger inside as he suckled her, and she shivered, staggering against the wall at her back.  Her muscles clamped around him, and she drew a ragged breath.  A hand slid behind her, his fingers fanned against her lower spine, anchoring her to him as he worked magic on her body.  She felt heat coil inside her like a spring wound too tight, and her legs started shaking with the sensation.  As her orgasm slammed into her, she let out a muted roar and concentrated on keeping herself upright.  Tom tightened his grip on her hips. His hand kept massaging her ass as he continued to tongue her. Finally, she collapsed, her knees buckling and her body pitching toward him. 

He caught her easily, and pulled her to the floor, then moved atop her.  His mouth found hers and he kissed her tentatively, then with increasing pressure until she began to kiss him back.  Her head swam.  When he found her breasts and caressed them lightly, she arched toward him, craving more.  She needed this beautiful man inside her, needed to feel his body pressed to hers, needed it more than her next breath. 

B'Elanna levered herself up and pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips.  His erection was hot and hard along her ass, and she leaned back into it while her eyes coursed down his body, drinking her fill.  Golden, beautiful, she thought.  How had she ever had the strength to say no to him before?  She leaned down and caught his mouth with hers, plunging her tongue inside and kissing him hard.  As she pulled back, she let her fingers trail over his smooth forehead, then down his cheeks to his shoulders.  She smiled and sat back a little more, and Tom groaned.  She massaged his chest, letting her fingers play in the crisp sandy-coloured curls, then she bent and swirled her tongue around his nipple.  

Tom's eyes came open and his body jerked.  He gasped, then groaned again as she began to kiss her way across his chest.  His muscles were smooth and hard beneath her hands, his skin hot under her mouth.  She lifted her head and gazed at him, her own eyes glazed, her lips slightly parted.  Tom cursed and his hand shot to her head, pulling her to him.  He kissed her hard, and tried to raise her body so he could position himself at her opening.  She was more than ready.  More than willing.  She rose swiftly, and reached for his penis to steady it, then came down, guiding him smoothly inside her.

It felt wonderful.  Better than wonderful.  A breath caught in her throat as she tried to catalogue the sensations: the sweet pull of skin on skin, the heat of him deep inside her, the solid feel of his body between her thighs, his hand clutching her hip almost painfully.  Bliss.

She sucked in a breath and stared at him, blinking the fog out of her eyes.  His were closed, and he'd thrown his head back baring his throat to her.  It made her wild!  It made her blood sing in her veins!  She felt a growl start deep in her belly, and let it come roaring out of her.  Constrained for too long, it felt glorious to let out her emotion!

Tom's eyes opened at the sound—blazed—and he very deliberately began to thrust into her.  His fingers dug into her waist, anchoring her to him, then slid across her hips and began to knead her bottom.  Little shocks spread through her belly and outward through her body, and she ground against him taking him in as deep as she could. 

Her nipples ached from wanting him, and she reached blindly for his hand and brought it to her chest.  He took her hint and brushed his thumb across her breast, and they watched as the nipple puckered into a tight, hard nub.  He opened his hand and held the weight of her small breast, cupping it, kneading it gently.  Her head fell back and she moaned. 

They hadn't let up their rhythm, and she felt him start to shudder as little tremors shook his body.  She clamped her legs to his sides and thrust wildly, straining against him, getting her fill of him before he lost all reason.  Her skin was slicked with sweat, and his hand released her breast to cup her shoulder and draw her down into another frantic kiss.  She nibbled at his jaw, smooth and whiskerless—when had he shaved?—and she fought the urge to mark him. 

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back roughly.  She flinched at the sharp pain in her scalp, then growled her pleasure as he began to kiss her jaw and throat.  His breath was moist and hot against her skin, and she closed her eyes to better concentrate on the sensation. 

Tom stiffened, and his mouth went slack against her shoulder blade.  She felt him tense, then his arm squeezed the breath from her as his grip on her body tightened.  He pounded frantically into her, and she slammed down against him with equal force, reaching for her orgasm as Tom's took him.  He stiffened, shuddered, and let out a strangled cry, and she felt victorious that she had brought him to this. 

"Now," she whispered, still thrusting against his inert form, "now…" and her breath caught again as sensation swamped her.  She quivered and arched her back, pulling away from him, her breasts standing up firm and proud between their sweat slicked bodies.  She stiffened as pleasure washed over her, then collapsed against him as her own strength left her, letting the quick rise and fall of his chest move her own body up and down. 

Eventually, she braced her forearms on either side of his head and rose up a little to observe him.  He was smiling lazily, his magnificent blue eyes hooded, and she found herself grinning back. 



"I like it when you're mad," he drawled.  He brought a hand up to her shoulder, brushing his palm down her back until he cupped a round cheek. 

"Tom Paris," she answered, a teasing note in her voice, "I believe I had you pegged all wrong.  I don't think you're a breast man at all."

He squeezed her for that, digging his fingers into her firm flesh.  He kissed her again, and when she tried to draw away he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit softly.  "Guilty," he said when he released her. 

She slid off of him, leaving a moist trail across his hard-muscled thigh.  Her breasts dragged across his chest as she moved over him, and the brush of his springy chest hair teased her nipples back to life. He brought up his hand and traced her dark areola with a fingertip.  "But I'm starting to see the allure of other parts of the body, too," he said.  He released her breast and traced the ridges on her forehead, and she closed her eyes at the intimate touch.  When he kissed her, she clung to him.

"Promise me that the next time you're angry, you'll come straight to me."  He was pushing the joke too far, but he wasn't sure what she would do now that they'd, well, been quenched.  His own actions had taken him by surprise, and before he'd fully realized what he was doing, he'd had her half-naked against the wall.  He knew she'd probably only gone along with him because of that infamous Klingon passion…well, those prep school boys hadn't lied about that!  It had been amazing.  Worth waiting a year for, in fact.  Well, maybe.

She'd rested her head on his shoulder and sagged against him.  She wasn't going anywhere any time soon, he realized, and he let out a breath and hugged her.  She tipped her head back and looked at him quizzically, and he kissed her quickly—a fierce possessive kiss that left him reeling and wanting her all over again. 

"What was that for?" she asked with a grin.

He tensed only briefly before answering her question with one of his own.  "Why did you turn me down a year ago?  You wouldn’t give me the time of day."

She hesitated, and Tom cursed himself.  It was a stupid question; he shouldn't have asked it.  He realized the better question was: why did she accept him tonight?  Her hand started moving slowly across his shoulder, her fingers tracing his collarbone then digging deep into the hair on his chest.  She lightly circled his nipple, and then trailed her hand down to cup his flaccid penis. 

"You were…" She sighed and Tom saw her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she suppressed a smile. "You were an ass, Tom."

He drew back, affronted.  "What?  I--I…"  Well now, how did a person respond to that?!

She laughed.  "You swaggered around that ship like you owned it.  You were drunk whenever you weren't on duty.  It was a wonder you could even stagger to your post some mornings.  Of course, I guess you had somebody to wake you…" 

Her voice was low and even, but Tom caught the hesitation there.  The forced nonchalance.  He closed his eyes and held her, smoothing the hair off her forehead.  "Actually, I didn’t drink while I was with your cell.  Chakotay made sure of that.  And contrary to popular belief, none of you brave and noble Maquis ladies would have anything to do with me.  Chakotay was the one who made sure I had my ass on the bridge on time every morning."

"Oh." 

It was quiet, but spoke volumes. She believed him, he could tell.  "Besides," he continued, "I only wanted you."

He felt her hand spasm on his penis, and he closed his eyes on the wash of pleasure the touch brought.  "Good.  I don't share, Tom."  Her words were low, but intense.  He caught her meaning.

Tom smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling for a moment before he shifted beside her.  He slid his shoulder out from under her head, then slowly rolled her onto her back and moved over her.  "Well, then," he said, "I think we have a problem."  He smiled at her, and kissed her quickly before she could stockpile any outrage.  "Because I don't share either."

B'Elanna narrowed her eyes, and her hands flexed on his shoulders.  "So, what's the problem?"

"Well, I get the feeling that Commander Chakotay wouldn't be too happy about this little arrangement, Crewman."  His eyes were twinkling at her, and he tried his best to suppress a laugh at her expression.

"I can take care of Chakotay.  He doesn't sca—"

"Oh, I'm well aware that nothing scares you.  But, the idea of spending the rest of the trip home in the brig is a little frightening to me.  I just got out of jail, remember?"

"He doesn't like you, but he'd never do that."  She looked confused, and Tom couldn't help dropping his head to nibble behind her ear. 

"I'm a lieutenant, and a bridge officer.  And you… are not.  And that means that this…" he kissed her plump lips again, and rubbed his now erect penis against her belly, "is not allowed.  According to Starfleet regs, this is harassment.  I'm taking sexual advantage of you, Crewman.  A court martial offense."

"I won't tell," she whispered.  She caught his mouth and drew him into a long deep kiss, and Tom groaned when her body arched into his. 

"Mmmm…. But you're a member of an obedient Starfleet crew now, not a wild and lawless Maquis.  You can't go around half-cocked anymore, Crewman Torres." 

She snorted at that, and reached between them to stroke his erection.  "I'd say we're fully cocked, Lieutenant." 

He grinned, loving the feel of her hands on his body.  "That's the problem.  Whenever I'm around you, I want to—"

"Want to what?  Grope me?"  She was laughing at him. 

"That was an accident and you know it."  He tried to sound indignant.

"Was it really?"

"A happy accident.  And you're changing the subject."

She swatted his shoulder and rolled her eyes at him.  "I don't even know what the subject is anymore."

"You, as chief engineer," Tom said bluntly.

She wriggled slightly beneath him, but he didn't let her up  "Right," B'Elanna snorted.  "Didn't you say something about my interpersonal skills being lacking?"

"Did I?"

"Something about me not being a people-person…?"  Her eyebrow arched drawing his attention to her enchanting forehead ridges.

"Oh yeah.  Well, I'd say your people skills have improved dramatically in the last hour, then."

She snorted.  "More like ten minutes, Paris.  Don't flatter yourself!" she laughed.

He swooped down for another kiss, effectively silencing her for a full twenty seconds.  When he raised his mouth from hers, he saw that her eyes were closed, and he skimmed his lips along her jaw and throat before replying.  "Hey, gimmie a break," he said, "it's been a while."

"Really?" she teased, her voice breathy.  "No jailhouse romances?"

He grinned at her and shook his head.  "Not unless you count smutty fantasies about a certain beautiful, half-Klingon Maquis engineer.  You're trying to change the subject again."

She sighed heavily.  "Can you really picture me as chief engineer of a Federation ship?"

"Yes," Tom said simply.  "Though I have to admit that I liked your Maquis uniform better."  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

B'Elanna gasped and her eyes flew open wide.  "My clothes!  I have to find my clothes!  Maybe housekeeping hasn't recycled them yet."  She pushed against his chest trying to lever him up and off of her.

Tom pressed against her, angling his body so his hips pinned hers to the floor.  "You weren't planning on getting dressed any time soon, were you?"  He thrust against her gently, teasing her opening with the tip of his penis.  She gasped.

"N—no…"

"Say 'yes', B'Elanna," he insisted against her mouth.  Her lips were warm and soft, and they parted in invitation when he traced the seam with his tongue.  He felt her smile against his mouth. 

"Are you telling me you want me to get dressed after all?"

He growled and thrust slowly into her, and her laugh turned into a moan.  "No," he breathed.  "I'm telling you that I want this to last.  I want to keep doing this with you."  He withdrew slowly then thrust in again, harder this time.  Her fingers clenched on his shoulders, then slid down his back, caressing his spine.  He shuddered. 

"Would you really let rank stand in the way of true love?"  Tom froze for a moment, and she laughed.  "You can wipe that look of terror off your face, Paris.  I was joking."

He looked at her face, the generous curve of her lips, at the way her eyes sparkled with laughter.  His heart skipped a beat.  "Tell Chakotay you'll put yourself in the running.  Prove to Janeway that you can do it." 

She closed her eyes, and Tom could tell that she was annoyed.  He started moving inside her again, and he kissed her as she sighed.  He felt the fire building, so hot and so quick he knew it would engulf him far too soon.  She was straining against him, her hands clenching on his back, kneading the muscles, slipping on the fine sheen of sweat he could feel prickling between his shoulder blades.  He tangled his fingers in her hair and anchored her there while he kissed her until he couldn't breathe.

"Yes…" 

It was a whisper of breath, more a sigh than an acknowledgement of his request.  "Yes," she said, louder this time. 

"Good," he grunted, the word turning into a gasp, then a groan as her body went rigid and her legs locked around his waist.  He felt her shudder, and he was right behind her, his orgasm engulfing him as her body clenched around him. 

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and Tom dragged great gulps of air into his lungs.  B'Elanna was breathing raggedly too, her warm breath puffing along his cheek and temple.  He nuzzled his nose into her hair, then pulled away from her, mindful of crushing her slight body.  His knees stung, as did the small of his back and his elbows.  He wanted to laugh—carpet burn at his age! 

He shivered as goose flesh rose on his sweat-slicked skin and he registered the temperature in the cabin.  "Do you want to sleep on the floor," he whispered against her mouth, "or should we share the bed?"

"Bed," she said simply, and pushed away from him.  He sprang to his feet and scooped her up into his arms, and she shrieked in surprise.  He walked a few steps then dropped her on the bed and slid in beside her, spooning up against her back.  Her lovely bottom fit snugly against his groin and he relished the contact.  "So what did you do to Carey?" he murmured.  "You never said."  He nuzzled her hair, inhaling her, then dropped a kiss on the top of her head. 

"I broke his nose," she answered simply.

Tom froze for a second, then chuckled.  "Did he deserve it?"

She twisted her neck back so she could look him in the eye.  "You deserved it more.  I'm not sure why I didn't slug you long ago."

He looked aghast.  "What?  And mar this handsome face?"  He smiled warmly at her and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, then nudged her head back onto his arm.  "You didn't get mad at him did you?" he teased.  He thrust his groin against her so she wouldn't miss his meaning.

"You're being an ass again, Paris."  Her tone carried a hint of warning.  "Be careful or I'll throw your naked butt out into the corridor for the night."

"You can't throw me out of my own quarters, Torres," he countered.

"Chakotay came here looking for me, remember?  Not you.  My quarters."  There was victory in her voice.

Well, she had him there.  "Okay," he sighed.  "I'll figure it out tomorrow.”

"In the morning," she said, her voice fogged with sleep.  “Before shift.”

"Definitely in the morning," Tom whispered into her hair.  "Chief."

@@@

Period.  The end. 


 
 


So, did you like Birca's story? If so, write her!
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All stories by Birca - Last Updated June 4, 2004
All characters, concepts, photos, images, & terminology belong to Paramount Pictures.