Title: A Little Bit of Passion
Summary: Episode addition to "Worst Case Scenario." A steamy love scene. P/T.
Rating: M
A/N: Inspired by VGWrighte's story, "Indecent Proposal." Because, The Boots.
fanfiction –dot– net/s/12848586/1/Indecent-Proposal
"All I'm saying is that there is room in every good story for a little bit of passion."
"You know, maybe you're on to something. I could add a steamy love scene between the Starfleet conn officer and the Maquis engineer."
"Oh, that's realistic."
As she made her way back to Main Engineering, B'Elanna couldn't get Tom's words out of her head.
"A steamy love scene…"
Her face flamed.
He had no idea.
Her mind was already brimming with steamy love scenes. For months now she'd been dreaming about him, fantasizing about him constantly.
She felt like the blood fever had never fully left her. And maybe it never would. Maybe the residual traces of it would be imprinted on her forever.
The intensity of her response to him was frightening sometimes. All it took to kindle the flame was a single smoldering look. The barest hint of his scent was enough to ignite all of her senses all at once. The slightest touch caused her entire being to flare into a conflagration of burning need and desire.
His hands caressing her face, stroking her hair
His lips on hers
Her teeth grazing the underside of his wrist
As he kissed her neck
His weight on top of hers
Pinning her down on the ground
His pelvis grinding against hers
The feel of him between her legs…
He'd said he wouldn't mind seeing her Klingon side again, and she believed him.
"Careful what you wish for," she had said on impulse in the turbolift.
Since then she'd continually encouraged his attentions, knowing full well that he would pursue her relentlessly.
And she'd wanted him to. She still wanted him to.
But she hadn't been prepared for how uncomfortable she was going to feel once he started pushing her to embrace her Klingon heritage.
It was partly her own fault, she had to admit.
Because after Sakari, she had begun re-reading her favorite Klingon romance novel, Women Warriors at the River of Blood.
She loved it for many reasons. The story was well-written and struck the right balance of action, character development and romance. It also presented the aspects of Klingon courtship that she actually found stimulating.
She had been reading it in public instead of in the privacy of her own quarters, knowing that Tom would see it eventually and be curious. Curious enough to grab it out of her hand and start reading it himself.
No doubt that had been the inspiration for his new Klingon martial arts holoprogram.
He'd thrown himself into it full force, in typical fashion.
And she should have anticipated that. Tom had a tendency to become obsessive about his interests.
But then, he could be selective about the aspects of Klingon culture that he wanted to explore. She doubted he'd exhibit that much enthusiasm if he were forced to eat gagh or endure Klingon painsticks.
She appreciated that he accepted her Klingon side, but that didn't mean she wanted to join him in disemboweling holographic monsters with a bat'leth.
She'd only agreed because he'd tricked her into that stupid bet. She never would have made a bet like that with anyone else, but he knew exactly how to rile her up.
Maybe it had been a mistake to let him read that romance novel. He'd obviously been hoping that Klingon martial arts would lead to other activities.
For Klingons, combat was often a potent aphrodisiac. But she was only half-Klingon, and it had annoyed her that he had thought it would turn her on.
Reading about bat'leth battles was quite different from actually fighting them. For her, the holoprogram had only served as a reminder of how different she was from the humans around her, and how inadequate she was as a Klingon.
Then he'd had the gall to get in her face and accuse her of being "hostile" all the time.
If the Nyrian hadn't unexpectedly appeared at that moment, their conflict would have only escalated further.
Later, she'd tried to apologize for overreacting. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings by rejecting the program he'd worked so hard on. She'd wanted him to understand that she just needed him to back off a little.
And he'd apologized too. They would have made up, if only the Doctor hadn't started psychoanalyzing them. That had set them off all over again.
Only their need to work together had re-focused them.
When they'd been forced to retreat to the Argala habitat to escape the Nyrians pursuing them, she'd needed his help.
The ice and snow enveloping them in a calm, silent stillness. Ensconced in their own private, hidden corner
His large hands clasping hers, caressing hers. The warmth of his breath on her hands. His lips brushing against her fingers. His lilting voice soft and soothing
Swaying, feeling faint
His strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly, holding her close. So close.
"Or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out?"
He would have done it, too. He'd been about to when they'd been transported back to their own habitat.
Though she would never admit it to anyone, that had turned her on. It was like something right out of her romance novel.
It was getting to be impossible to be just friends with him anymore. In the Nyrian habitat, Tom had claimed he was just trying to be friendly, but his overtures of "friendship" were definitely not platonic, and they both knew it.
She had plenty of male friends – Harry, Chakotay, Ayala, Neelix – and she'd never had these kinds of problems with any of them before.
She'd managed to hide her feelings for Tom sufficiently for a long time, even from herself, but that had all changed after Sakari.
They couldn't go back to being just friends after that. It was ridiculous to pretend otherwise. Friends didn't stare at each other heatedly with undisguised longing in their eyes. Didn't call having lunch together a "date." Didn't touch each other a little too intimately, lingering just a little too long. Didn't experience searing jealousy when the other person displayed interest or attention towards someone else. Didn't kiss each other with wild abandon like they had in the caves of Sakari.
It seemed like everything these days only served to provide additional fodder for her already fevered imagination.
Even this new holodeck program, Insurrection Alpha.
She'd gotten so caught up in the intrigue of the conspiracy to mutiny that she'd lost all track of time and forgotten to meet him for lunch like they'd planned.
Still, he could have just called her on the com to remind her. Instead, he'd sought her out in person on the holodeck.
No one else would have dared barge in on her like that. Nor be so bold as to ask her to reset the program for him.
And she wouldn't have done it for anyone else. But for him, she'd given in right away. He'd known she wouldn't be able to resist the prospect of having a secret to share with him, and he'd turned on the charm to convince her.
She hated feeling so out of control. And with him, she felt perilously close to the edge, about to lose control at any second.
She was so tired of fighting. Fighting him. Fighting her own overpowering desires. The perpetual advance and retreat.
She couldn't help imagining what it would be like to just give in.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could picture her dream from the night before…
B'Elanna strode down the corridor at a brisk pace. Her senses were hyper-alert, attuned to every sight and sound.
She felt better already just being out of that Starfleet uniform. The Maquis would rise again!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of red and black. A Starfleet officer running down the corridor ahead, she realized.
She'd thought they'd all been confined to quarters already, or in the brig. This one must have escaped.
She gave chase and tackled him. If she stunned him with her phaser, she'd have to drag him to the brig on her own. Better to make him walk there under his own power.
As he rubbed his head, she prodded him between the shoulder blades with her phaser.
"Get up. Let's go," she said brusquely.
"B'Elanna!"
Startled blue eyes met hers.
She froze. This wasn't some nondescript Starfleet officer who'd escaped. It was Tom Paris.
He and the captain must have just returned in the shuttle.
She hesitated, suddenly uneasy. He was a pig, but she'd gotten to know him. She didn't really want to hurt him. Not if she didn't have to.
"Let's go, Tom," she repeated, a little less harshly.
"B'Elanna," he entreated her. The urgency in his voice made her stop in her tracks.
"You can convince Chakotay to end this mutiny. He'll listen to you."
She shook her head resolutely. "It's too late for that."
"It's not too late. We can fix this."
"Captain Janeway will never forgive the Maquis crewmembers for the mutiny," she argued.
"Captain Janeway is a diplomat. She would be willing to compromise," he countered.
He was trying to reason with her, but it wasn't working too well. It was difficult to concentrate when she was near him. He was too close, and she could smell the unique scent of him. His sweat. His fear. He was still breathing rapidly from the exertions of running.
Chasing him, physically tackling him had set her blood pumping and her heart pounding as well.
"Captain Janeway believes in you. She made you Chief Engineer," he reminded her. "Doesn't that count for something?"
He must have sensed that she was starting to waver, to let down her guard, because he moved in even closer.
"B'Elanna."
His voice was soft, almost like a caress.
She looked up at him, and that was her undoing.
She didn't want to be his enemy. She hadn't wanted to choose sides.
She'd always been attracted to him and the way he carried himself with such confidence. Damn, he looked good. He always looked good, but now that he was a little disheveled, hair unkempt, not quite so polished, he looked even more tempting than usual.
Red suited him. It contrasted with his coloring. She hadn't met too many human men with such light coloring. Fair skin, blond hair, piercing blue eyes.
He filled out that Starfleet uniform so well. Broad shoulders. Long, lean torso. Muscular thighs and hips. And he was so tall. She always felt feminine and delicate standing next to him.
Standing so close to him, she couldn't help but imagine what he looked like underneath his uniform. How he would feel.
She moistened her lips. Sensing her indecision, he leaned towards her and placed his hand on her arm.
Her heart beat even faster. He had a powerful effect on her.
She regarded him doubtfully. Was he deliberately being seductive to manipulate her?
No, he was immensely attracted to her too. She could tell by the way he was looking at her.
She knew her own allure, especially in this particular outfit. It was much more flattering to her figure than the Starfleet uniform, emphasizing the sleek lines of her compact, powerful body. The top wrapping around in the front, baring the smooth, tanned skin of her neck, collarbone and forearms. The short, fitted vest highlighting every delectable curve of her breasts. The belt accentuating her narrow waist. The suede pants that fit her like a second skin, outlining her shapely hips and rear.
And of course the pièce de résistance, the leather boots encasing her toned calves, stretching out to over the tops of her knees.
Earlier she'd donned them like armor, mentally preparing herself for battle.
But the Starfleet crewmembers hadn't put up much resistance. It had all been so civilized so far. No one had been seriously injured. A few people stunned by phaser fire, that was all. The situation had been tense but not violent. A quiet, uneventful mutiny.
Since most of the 'Fleeters had surrendered immediately with little opposition, it had felt almost anticlimactic. Victory had come far too easily for her taste. It wasn't enough for her. Her Klingon bloodlust demanded glorious battles and worthy opponents to defeat. An uprising to quell. She needed someone to fight. Someone to conquer.
The impact of her body slamming into his, toppling him over, had only whetted her appetite for more contact. She hadn't needed to use physical force to subdue someone in a long time. She needed more.
He was breathing harder. She could hear him. She could feel him, so close to her.
Aggression and arousal co-mingled within her. She felt reckless, the surging adrenaline heightening her senses, clouding her judgment.
Thinking quickly, she considered him with a predatory look,
Chakotay didn't really need her help right now. Tuvok and Harry were already in the brig. The other Maquis were in the laborious process of rounding up all the Starfleet crew confined to quarters and escorting them to the Cargo Bay. The captain must be running around the ship somewhere, but she'd let Chakotay deal with that. She didn't really feel like confronting the captain.
Their eyes locked.
She wanted him. She wanted him so much.
Tom was going to be put off the ship with all the other senior Starfleet officers. She could have him right here, right now. No one would ever have to know.
Conveniently, this section just happened to be empty and held unoccupied guest quarters.
She'd held back for far too long. She'd fought so hard against her attraction to him, knowing that they could never be together.
This was her last chance. She had to seize the moment before he was lost to her forever. Just this once she wanted to be selfish and not have to worry about survival or loyalties.
The high stakes only amplified her sense of urgency. Making up her mind, she grabbed his arm. She ripped off their combadges and threw them down the corridor, then roughly shoved him through the doors of the nearest quarters.
He seemed thoroughly confused.
Until she pushed him down on the bed and climbed on top of him.
His eyes widened as she straddled him tightly, the ridged leather of her boots digging into his ribs ever so slightly. She pinned down his wrists with her hands, her grip like a vise. Alarmed, he struggled ineffectually, then winced as her strong thigh muscles tightened their hold around him.
She could see the arousal and fear warring in his eyes, and she relished the exhilaration of hunting down her quarry.
"B'Elanna," he gasped. "What are you doing?"
"Shut up, Tom," she growled, covering his mouth with hers.
She felt him resist for a fraction of a second then start to give in.
Molding her body to his, she leaned down to kiss him again. When he responded by opening his mouth and deepening the kiss, she felt a surge of triumph.
She knew that this unexpected reversal turned him on. He was used to taking charge and being the pursuer. By initiating their encounter, she'd thrown him off-balance. She now had the upper hand. And she liked it.
Now certain of his cooperation, she released his wrists. Her desire to subdue him temporarily satisfied.
She felt a heady rush, knowing she could make him lose his mind. Forget all duties, all responsibilities. All that mattered in this moment was the pleasure they found in each other.
He was breathing raggedly, and his hands began to roam her curves of their own volition. His palms slid smoothly down her hips and thighs, sparking electric jolts of need throughout her entire body. He insinuated his fingers into the wide opening at the top of her left boot, caressing the sensitive skin at the back of her knee. She squirmed at the sensation. It was slightly ticklish but astoundingly erotic.
With his help, she pulled off the boots and tossed them aside. Then she loosened her belt and shimmied out of her pants and underwear. He deftly peeled her vest and top off, and the bra underneath soon followed.
She made short work of all the layers of his uniform. The outer jacket. The shirt underneath. His pants and boxers.
Until he was completely naked, his skin against hers at long last.
She grasped his shaft and rubbed the tip along her opening, then slowly impaled herself on him. She was so lubricated, so ready for him. And he was so hard, throbbing with need. She slid all the way down onto him effortlessly and shuddered with ecstasy as she felt him ensconced deep within her.
"B'Elanna…" he moaned.
She braced herself against his muscular shoulders and took control, grinding her pelvis forcefully against his.
It wasn't gentle. Their coupling was frantic and unrestrained. The possibility of getting caught at any moment only added to the excitement.
His hands gripped her tightly, urging her on as she rode him hard and fast.
She could feel the blood racing through her veins. All the pent-up energy and coiled tension that had been building, desperately needing release.
His large hands palmed her breasts, roughly pinching her nipples, sending her into a frenzy. Their loud moans reverberated off the walls.
She could feel his stomach and thigh muscles tensing beneath her, and she knew he was close.
So was she.
He grasped her hip bones with bruising force, driving her down on him again and again.
She gazed deeply into his eyes, entranced by the expression of rapture on his face as he cried out her name.
"Tom!" she roared, howling in pleasure as they were both completely consumed by the raging inferno between them.
She fell heavily on top of him, still panting and gasping for breath.
Completely spent, she barely registered the sound of the doors whooshing open moments later.
And then Chakotay stormed in, his expression thunderous.
"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded. As if it weren't obvious by their state of undress.
Tom, quicker-thinking, recovered enough to pull the sheets up to cover them both.
Chakotay swore. "I don't believe this!"
"I can explain –" she started to say, but he didn't let her finish.
"Do you know what his friends have been doing while you've been here? Sabotaging Engineering. Warp drive is completely offline. Everyone's going crazy down there. Especially when you didn't respond on the com. No one knew where you were. I thought you'd been ambushed, knocked unconscious somewhere. Until I tracked you down here. I could hear you two from halfway down the corridor!"
B'Elanna cringed.
"Paris was using you, B'Elanna," Chakotay told her callously. "He seduced you to keep you out of Engineering so the Starfleet officers could sabotage the warp drive."
"No!" Tom yelled vehemently. "It wasn't like that at all. I would never do that to B'Elanna. I did this because I wanted to."
"You've always wanted her, Paris," Chakotay said dangerously. "You've just been waiting for the right opportunity."
"Like you haven't wanted to do the same with Captain Janeway," Tom fired back. "You should have started right from the beginning. It would have been a lot more productive than planning a mutiny. You would have saved us all a whole lot of trouble."
Chakotay's mouth fell open, and he stared at him in disbelief.
"There are more effective ways than violence to ensure someone's cooperation, as B'Elanna here figured out on her own," Tom continued bitterly.
He glanced at her, then looked away, but not before she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes.
Horrified, she suddenly realized that Tom thought she had only lured him there to ensure his capture.
"That's not what happened," she told him. "I didn't plan any of this. I just got a little carried away."
She didn't care if Chakotay lost all respect for her. What mattered was that Tom believed her. Because it was the truth.
Tom looked at her with hope in his eyes.
Chakotay looked disgusted but also stymied as to what he should do. Or could do. He needed his Chief Engineer, after all.
"Put your clothes back on and get down to Engineering, B'Elanna," Chakotay said at last. "Get that warp drive back online."
She looked at him in surprise.
"What? It's not like I'm going to lock you up in the brig with Paris."
Chakotay shook his head. "You two would probably like that a little too much anyway," he said sourly.
Her combadge chirped loudly all of a sudden, startling her out of her reverie.
"Janeway to Torres. Report to the Bridge immediately."
"On my way, Captain."
The End!