CODE: Paris, Torres, P/f, and (P/T)
RATING: [R] For scenes of a sexual nature and adult language.
SUMMARY: A curious B’Elanna Torres stumbles upon an illicit love affair that involves Voyager’s Chief Helmsman. Set during mid-Season 1. A bit dark and angsty.
FEEDBACK: Be my guest. But please, be kind.
DISCLAIMER: Tom, B’Elanna and all other characters related to Star Trek Voyager belong to Paramount, Viacom and the usual Trek Powers to Be.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: A lot of fan fiction have portrayed Tom’s womanizing as something not to be taken seriously. More reputation than fact. In this story, the rumors of his rampant womanizing prove to be true.
ANOTHER NOTE: Although TPTB never gave Hogan a first name, I decided to name him Simon – after the actor who portrayed him in the series, Simon Billig.
An eager Tom Paris strolled along Deck Nine’s corridor, mindful of the curious stares from passing crewmen. He was on his way to the quarters of one Ensign Telac Mara, a delectable Bajoran officer who worked in Exobiology. Tom planned to spend several hours in her quarters, entertaining her the best way he knew how – food, talk and plenty of sex. If he was lucky. His anticipation must show on his face. How else could he explain the smirks and expressions of disgust on the others’ faces.
Nearly two months had passed since Voyager found itself catapulted into the Delta Quadrant. Nine weeks since Captain Kathryn Janeway gave a former Starfleet brat, turned convict a second chance to make something of his life. And although Tom felt obliged to show his gratitude by becoming an exemplary officer, he realized that he also had a private life to maintain. For Thomas Eugene Paris, that meant the pursuit of the opposite sex.
As Tom round a corner, he nearly collided with two members of the Engineering staff – Joe Carey and Simon Hogan. Starfleet and Maquis. It seemed that Captain Janeway’s desire to assimilate the two factions into one crew might come into fruition after all. Tom flashed a smile at the two men. “Hey Joe! Simon! What are you two doing here?”
Carey, forever the proper Starfleeter, gave Tom a muted smile. “Paris. We’re here on business. Why?”
“Yeah, why?” Hogan added sneeringly. “What business is it of yours?” Being Maquis, Simon Hogan was less subtle in expressing his dislike of the Chief Conn Officer. “You plan to run back to Janeway and send a report?”
Tom took a deep breath and mentally began to count to ten. “Look, Hogan, I was merely curious, that’s all. Especially since neither of you have quarters on this deck.”
Suspicion glimmered in the former Maquis’s eyes. “How do you know that?”
For a long moment, the former colleagues stared at each other. Tom eventually realized that Hogan’s suspicions were ridiculous. “For crying out . . . Never mind!” He shook his head in disgust and continued along the corridor, ignoring the other man’s dark mumblings.
Pushing the encounter with the two engineers to the back of his mind, Tom continued to scan the cabin numbers for Mara’s quarters. Nine-f, nine-g, nine-h, nine . . . A slender hand shot out of an opened doorway and grabbed Tom’s wrist. “What the hell?” he began. Then he found himself being dragged into an empty cabin before he could protest any further. That same hand, along with another, slammed him against the wall. Tom stared into a pair of familiar eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded in an annoyed voice.
She purred, “I saw you talking with Hogan and Carey in the corridor. And I thought I would surprise you.” She pressed her body against Tom’s. “You know, renew old times.” A pink tongue darted from her mouth and flickered across the edge of Tom’s jaw.
“I’m not interested in renewing old times,” Tom retorted. His mind desperately tried to ignore the wet tongue on his jaw. “And I have plans to spend my evening with someone else. Someone I actually like.”
“You mean Telac Mara?” She sniffed. “I thought you had better taste than that.” Her tongue reached the edge of his mouth and began to make circular motions. Tom managed to hold back a groan through sheer effort.
Breathlessly, the pilot responded, “Look, why don’t you go seduce someone else? I’m not in the mood and we barely like each other. We never have.”
“That didn’t stop you from spending a little time with me, before.” Her tongue flickered back and forth across Tom’s upper lip.
“I was drunk, . . . oh God . . . desperate for sex and didn’t know any better.” Tom paused to control his breathing. “Besides, you’re only doing this . . . because your old lover . . . is no longer interested in you.”
The tongue disappeared from Tom’s mouth. Much to his surprise – and disappointment. Eyes slitted dangerously. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a big mouth, Paris?”
“A lot of people,” he replied in a weary voice. “Including you.”
She unzipped her Starfleet-issued jacket and removed it. “Well, maybe you should . . .” A gray turtleneck blouse followed, along with an undershirt of the same color. “. . . use your mouth for something more substantial.” In a swift motion, she removed her bra. “Like these.”
Tom’s eyes riveted upon a pair of pale, round breasts. “Huh,” he grunted. His mouth grew dry. “I must say. The offer is tempting.”
One of her eyebrows formed an arch. “Tempting?” She smiled, took Tom’s hands and placed them on her breasts. “As I recall, you were never been able to resist them.” Her breath fanned his cheeks.
‘Goddamit!’ Tom thought. He hated this. She never failed to get him into this state. Breathless. And hard. In an attempt to resist her, he immediately withdrew his hands.
“And if my memory serves me right,” she continued, “you really enjoyed this.” Before Tom knew what happened, he felt her slender hands unfasten his trousers. “Let’s see.” She slipped one hand inside and firmly grasped the flesh between his legs. “Ah yes!” His member immediately swelled from her touch. “Now I remember.”
Tom gasped out loud. She pulled and stroked every inch of his flesh, while she pressed her body against his, and her tongue continued to form wet traces near the edge of his mouth. Any resistance that may have lingered within him, immediately shattered. “The hell with this!” Tom grabbed her shoulders and shoved her against the wall. “You want to relive old times, huh?” he growled in a husky voice. “Okay, I’ll show you old times!” He covered one plump breast with his mouth and began to suckle upon the hardened tip. She threw her head back, and emitted a deep, low moan, as the couple began to relive old times.
* * * *
Inside the Chief Engineer’s quarters, B’Elanna Torres began to remove the last vestiges of her uniform. She would have moved a lot faster, but her aching body made it impossible.
B’Elanna and her Engineering staff had just spent the entire day trying to reconfigure the Warp Plasma conduit, which had suddenly drained at least 35% of the ship’s energy source. The latter had been an ongoing problem for Voyager ever since its encounter with that event horizon, nearly a month ago. Just before B’Elanna had been given the position of Chief Engineer.
Some of the ship’s energy source managed to be preserved, thanks to Neelix’s conversion of the Captain’s dining room into a galley. And the use of the replicator had been rationed, using credit chips. Yet, despite all of these precautions, Voyager’s energy drain continued. If the crew did not find any dilithium soon, the ship might end up dead in space. Or Janeway might be forced to consider colonization.
To find a solution to Voyager’s problem, B’Elanna had gathered her top engineers for a brainstorming session in her quarters. After three hours or so, they managed to come up with a minor solution. Use the impulse engines, unless the situation made it necessary for Voyager to go to warp. Carey had also suggested sending both the holodecks and replicators off-line, as well.
After so many hours of working on the warp conduits, crawling through Jeffries tubes and meetings, B’Elanna felt exhausted. In fact, she had to struggle into her red pajamas. Once her head rested on her pillow, her eyes closed and B’Elanna slipped into a deep sleep.
* * * *
The noise roused B’Elanna out of her sleep. Her eyes blinked open. CRASH! What the . . .? A loud moan followed. The noise made B’Elanna spring into a sitting position. She glanced at the chronometer on the table, next to her bed. It read 22:07 hours. Kahless! She had only been asleep for twelve minutes! Who in the hell was making so much noise?
“Wha . . . Oh gods!” a male voice cried out. One that struck a familiar chord. “God! Don’t . . . don’t stop!”
More thumps followed. It seemed as if someone was banging his or her fist on the wall. Another crash. A few more thumps and then, a long, loud groan. One that came, B’Elanna surmised, from a female. “Oh . . . oh! Don’t stop!” the woman continued. “Don’t . . . ye-ee-ess-ss! Yes!”
The woman’s cries mingled with more thumps. B’Elanna found herself growing uncomfortably aroused. She had witnessed her share of erotic vids in her time, but never had she been this close to the action. Aside from a few sexual encounters of her own. Then it came. One final cry that emitted from both parties. “Yes! Yes! Ooooh! Spirits! Ye-ee-esss-ss!”
Silence followed. To B’Elanna’s embarrassment, she felt a warm rush between her legs. She pressed them together and sighed. Well, she no longer felt exhausted. Just tense and aroused. Which meant that she definitely will have trouble sleeping tonight.
* * * *
Barely able to keep her eyes opened, B’Elanna reached for her cup of coffee. And grabbed only air, instead. She muttered a curse under her breath.
“Here you go.” Someone placed the cup in her hand. B’Elanna recognized his voice. Harry. “Hey Maquis, you really look tired. Rough night?” Sympathy shone in his black eyes, as he sat in the chair opposite her.
B’Elanna heaved a long, dry sigh. “Rough day, period. Between those damn warp plasma conduits, meetings with my staff and a loud neighbor, I’ve barely had a chance to sleep.”
“A noisy neighbor?” Harry’s face expressed interest. “And who might that be?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea.”
Harry frowned. “After two months in the Delta Quadrant, you don’t know your own neighbors?”
B’Elanna groaned and took a sip of coffee. “Look Starfleet, I’m not exactly the most sociable person. And I’ve been spending the last month trying to keep this ship together after our encounter with that event horizon.”
“And the noisy neighbor?” Harry asked. “Has he or she been giving you trouble all this time?”
“Just last night. When it comes to sex, he or she is pretty damn noisy.”
A red flush crept up Harry’s face. “Oh. One of those.”
B’Elanna stared at her friend’s embarrassed expression and giggled. “Oh, Harry! If only you could see your face at this moment.”
“I see it and think it looks quite delicious,” a third voice added. It belonged to Seska, a Bajoran ex-Maquis, who worked under B’Elanna in Engineering. She and another former Maquis, stood next to the table, holding their trays. “Good morning, B’Elanna.” She smiled at Harry. “Ensign Kim.”
Poor Harry now looked even more embarrassed. He mumbled, “Morning, Ensign uh, Seska.” His face, now resembling the color of a beet, Harry immediately began to dig into his food. Seska’s smile stretched wider and she sat in an empty chair next to him.
The other ex-Maquis sat next to B’Elanna. Her name was Mariah Henley and the red-and-black uniform she wore indicated that she served in the Conn Division as a pilot. She glanced at the food in her tray and sighed. “How lovely,” she commented in her usual sardonic manner, “another one of Neelix’s ‘delectable’ meals.” Her eyes shifted to Seska, who was busily eating. “How can you eat this stuff?”
“This ‘stuff’ is the only thing that keeps us on our feet,” Seska retorted. “At least until the replicators return on-line. So I suggest you eat up.” Henley mumbled an insult. But that did not stop her from following Seska’s advice.
The four companions continued eating their breakfast – only raktijino and a roll for B’Elanna. They chatted about the ship’s ongoing energy crisis, and the planet recently detected by the long-range sensors. The Mess Hall’s doors slid open. B’Elanna glanced in that direction and frowned at the two newcomers – Ensign Telac and Lieutenant Paris.
Another sneer crept into Henley’s expression. “Look who’s here! Voyager’s own little playboy with his latest bed warmer at his side.” B’Elanna noticed that the pilot spoke with intense vehemence. She was well aware of Tom Paris’s unpopularity aboard ship. The Starfleet faction condemned him for killing three other ‘Fleet officers in a shuttle accident on Caldik Prime and lying about it. Voyager’s former Maquis detested him for betraying their cause when he had agreed to help Janeway hunt them down in the Badlands. Only a handful of people genuinely liked Paris. B’Elanna did not count herself among the latter.
Harry quietly added, “That’s Telac Mara with Tom. He’s been dating her for over a week, now.”
“I bet Megan Delaney must be thrilled.” Henley’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I wonder when she found out about those two. Before or after Paris dumped her?”
Annoyance darkened Harry’s countenance. “Don’t you have anything better to do than complain about Tom? Why are you always so hard on him? What did he ever do to you?”
Henley’s mouth formed a hard line. “Nothing,” she hissed. “I’m in a bad mood. And I need someone to bitch about. Paris fits the bill.”
“Bad mood? Sounds more like green-eye jealousy,” Seska teased. “Are you jealous, Mariah?”
Three pairs of eyes riveted upon Henley. The pilot’s face turned red with embarrassment. “What are you talking about, Seska? What do I have to be jealous about?” The ire in her voice, somehow, did not ring true.
“I don’t know. Because Ensign Telac is enjoying breakfast with Tom Paris and you’re not?” A spiteful smile curved Seska’s lips. “I remember how you used to stare at him adoringly back in the Maquis. And how you were the only one to come to his defense. Until we all ended up in the Delta Quadrant.”
B’Elanna stared at her former comrade in disbelief. “Kahless, Mariah! Don’t tell me that you were once attracted to Tom Paris?”
“Of course not!” Henley retorted. “Seska’s just exaggerating! Why would you believe such . . .” She broke off when the subject in question approached their table.
The Chief Helmsman flashed his usual megawatt smile, irking B’Elanna to no end. She disliked people who used such shallow methods to get by in life.
“Hey everyone!” Paris greeted, before turning to his best friend. “Say Harry, I need your help with those new navigation specs we had talked about. Will you be available later, today?”
Harry nodded. “Sure. How about this evening? Around 2100?”
A gust of breath escaped Paris’s mouth. “A little too late for me. I have . . .” He glanced at Telac, who smiled at him. “I have other plans, tonight. How about 1730? After our shift ends?”
Harry glanced uneasily at B’Elanna. She knew the reason for his unease. They had planned to go over ideas regarding the warp conduits. “Sorry Tom. B’Elanna and I . . .”
“We have other plans after the Alpha shift,” B’Elanna bluntly finished for her friend. “Make some other plans.”
Cool blue eyes fixed upon B’Elanna’s face. “Other plans, huh? Hmmm. Lucky Harry.” A knowing smirk touched the pilot’s lips.
It took all of B’Elanna’s control not to wipe that smirk off Paris’s face. Violently. Bridling with anger, she retorted, “It’s not what you think, moron! Get your mind out of the gutter! If you can.”
“Take it easy, Torres! I’m just kidding! Even Harry knows about my sense of humor. Right buddy?”
Harry nodded wearily. “Don’t mind Tom, B’Elanna. He can’t help it if he has a peculiar sense of humor.” Tom chuckled at his joke.
“Well he better learn to curb it!” B’Elanna growled. “Before he uses it on the wrong person.”
Paris rolled his eyes and looked away. B’Elanna, to her annoyance, realized he had just dismissed her. The pilot focused on his subordinate. “By the way, Henley. Don’t forget that you’ll be taking Culhane’s place during Beta shift, tonight. I suggest you get some rest this afternoon.”
Henley did not look pleased by the news. “Again?” she whined. “This is the second time I’ve had to cover for Culhane. Assign someone else!”
“You need the flight time!” Paris snapped back. “And the last time you had covered Culhane, happened a month ago.”
“What if I don’t bother to show up?”
Silence surrounded the table. B’Elanna, along with her companions, stared at Paris, wondering how he would deal with this challenge to his authority. To her reluctant admiration – the Chief Pilot handled it well. “It’s quite simple,” Paris continued with a cold smile. “I’ll either have you assigned to Beta shift for the next three months. Or you can spend those same months in the brig. Take your choice.” His eyes penetrated Henley’s. Whose face grew even redder.
Paris turned to Harry with a more genuine smile. “Look Harry, we can get together over those specs another time. I’ll see you later.” And he returned to Ensign Telac.
Seska faced Henley, her eyes wide open with feign compassion. “Still have that crush on Paris, Mariah?”
The latter growled, “Shut up, Seska!” And she focused once more on her breakfast.
* * * *
Later that night, B’Elanna laid in bed, wide awake. Her eyes were fully alert, anticipating and dreading a repeat performance of last night’s disturbances.
Five minutes passed. Only silence greeted B’Elanna’s ears. Another fifteen minutes later, more silence. By the time ten more minutes went by, B’Elanna felt herself growing sleepy. She also realized that whatever she had witnessed last night, was not bound to occur again.
Secure that she would finally get some rest, the half-Klingon closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. She would have been happy to learn that no sexual activity of any kind occurred in the cabin next door.
End of PART ONE