"Don't worry—I'm not going to bite you."
"Pity. I kinda like it."
I reach out and stroke the mark on his shoulder, red and angry looking. "I did that already, remember?"
He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the palm. The gesture is so sweet and innocent, so at odds with what we've been doing and the fact that we're stark naked and painfully aroused, that I don't know what do with myself. So, I lean in and kiss him. His hands move to my waist, pulling me to him gently and I slide forward, straddling his thighs. We both moan a little at the feel of each other but continue kissing, unwilling to lose the contact for even a second.
I move one of my hands between us, stroking him gently for a few moments before I shift a little, sliding back down onto him. He clutches me tightly. I can feel the tension in his entire body. He finally breaks free, his face contorting as he pants. I reach up and stroke the hair back from his face, waiting. I desperately want to move, want to feel him moving within me, but I wait.
"Are you all right?" I finally whisper, and he nods his head just a little, finally opening his eyes.
"Almost lost it for a minute. I'm okay now."
"Are you sure? I can wait—"
He cuts me off, pressing his lips to mine briefly. "I'm good." To prove himself, he thrusts up suddenly and I grab at him, making sure I stay situated on his lap. He thrusts again, but this time I push down, meeting him halfway. We both moan at the sensation, smiling at each other after. I like this position. I feel like we're on even ground now, instead of him having to do all the work. Not that he seemed to mind, but I do like feeling like an active participant.
We move against each other slowly, gazing at each other in open wonder. It feels like this moment is just hitting me for the first time, which is impossible. The enormity of what I'm doing with Tom has been hitting me all night, but I can't help but feel amazed that I'm actually here with him, that this is actually happening. I told him that I love him. He didn't want to get out of it. He wants to be with me. He loves me. I show him my worst and he takes it all in stride. This man…this man is everything to me.
He's everything.
That really is huge. It's also very true. He's meant so much to me for so long—first as a friend, then as a confidant, then a companion, and now this. It's hard to wrap my mind around it. No one has ever meant this much to me, and it's scary. It's scary to think that I already need him so badly. It's even scarier to think about life without him.
I lean forward and kiss him, trying to keep myself in check. I don't want to think the heavy thoughts right now. I just want this. I want all the things he's making me feel. I want tonight. I want this moment.
His lips tear away from mine and he breathes heavily against my cheek for a few seconds before he moves down to my neck. I can't help but moan as he works his magic, somehow figuring out just where to kiss, and where to bite. I push against him harder in response, our hips hardly separating at this point. I feel him move down to my shoulder, down to the mark he gave me earlier, and he sucks at it gently.
"God!" The sensation is unbelievable. I tighten my thighs against his hips, thrusting against him violently for a few seconds before I can get myself back under control. His mouth continues its journey, moving across my clavicle and down my chest. I lean back from him just a little and he captures my nipple between his lips. I feel his tongue moving over me in firm swipes before he sucks at me. Hard.
I almost explode right then and there, managing to contain myself at the last second, but not before I scream his name at the top of my lungs. His fingers tighten against my back, drawing me closer. I can feel him shaking, but he still meets my hips, thrust for thrust. He moves to my other breast, grabbing that nipple between his teeth, and I really almost pass out. My head swims and my rhythm falters, and it's everything I can do to not fall off him. He clutches me tighter, one hand going down to my hip to help me move against him faster.
He has to be close. There's no way he can last much longer. I'm still truly amazed that he's held on for this long. "You're amazing," I gasp, reaching up to try to hold his head in place.
He manages to break free, moving back up so that we're face to face. His eyes look hazy, unfocused, but he grins at me—that huge, toothy grin that he seems to reserve only for me. Our arms tighten around each other at the same time and he shakes his head. "You are."
"I love you, Tom," I whisper, my chest filing up, my heart pounding for so many reasons. "I love you."
He shudders, and he throws his head back as he yells out, loud, unintelligible sounds. No words—just noise. His movements grow sloppy and jerky, and I can tell he's probably having the orgasm of his life. The cords in his neck stand out, his entire body flushes, his fingers dig into me hard enough to, most likely, leave bruises, and he's completely beautiful. I rock my hips against his furiously, not only to try to draw this out for him—and he deserves as much as I can give him—but because I'm seconds away myself. I look at him again, watching his face contort in pleasure. His body still pushes against mine, his hips pounding against mine furiously. He calls out a loud, sharp, "B'Elanna!" and I'm done.
I let out a long, low wail, not recognizing my own voice as my body convulses. I feel him grab at me, holding me tight against him as we undulate against each other, milking each other for everything we're worth.
I fling myself forward, burying my face in his neck as I pump against him, trying desperately not to bite him again. If I did that now, I know I'd cause him actual damage, and somehow in my lust-addled brain, I know that's not what I want to do. I settle for scratching my nails down his back. He hisses in pain but doesn't loosen his grip. He gives another couple of powerful thrusts before his body droops, limp. I only manage to hold on for a few more seconds before I follow suit, my body collapsing on top of his. I can feel him shaking—though maybe that's me—as he strokes my skin gently. I can hear him whispering to me, but I can't make out the words. I feel his lips on my cheek and I manage to turn my head, meeting him for another kiss. It's slow and gentle, almost teasing, and my body shudders again, aftershocks rushing through me.
I feel my body wilting, but before I can get too far, his hands are on my back, guiding me toward the bed. A moment later, he sprawls out next to me, face down. I almost start to worry about him until he turns his head, facing me. I shift a little so that he can share my pillow, the one pillow that somehow managed to stay on the bed during all of this. I have no idea where the other ones are. I'm sure I'll find them in the morning, scattered around my quarters along with our clothes. Right now, it really doesn't matter. He scoots a little closer, settling next to me on the pillow, his arm draped over me, one of his legs tangled with mine. His eyes still look a little dazed, but he gives me another dazzling grin.
"Holy shit." That's all he has to say and I burst out laughing, reaching up to grab his cheek. I pull him in for a kiss and he moves even closer, pressing his body completely against mine.
"That's an understatement," I answer, grinning back at him.
"We can do that again, right?"
"I certainly hope so."
"Can we do it again tonight?"
Despite my exhaustion and the fact that my body is still quivering like the Jell-O Neelix has taken to serving in the mess hall, I feel myself perk up a little. "You want to?"
"Desperately." He blinks at me blearily. "I just need a little bit of time to recuperate."
I feel a little disappointed, which I know is ridiculous. I just had the best sex possible, and Tom focused all of his attention on me for I don't know how long. He deserves a little rest. Hell, so do I, even though I'm sure I could get myself up and running again, if he were suddenly up for it. "I understand," I tell him, stroking his hair. I do understand, even if my libido is in overdrive.
"Can I wake you up in a couple of hours to go again?" I pause for a second, considering. I'm not one that responds well to being woken up in the middle of the night. Then again, I'm not usually being woken up for sex, either. He mistakes my consideration for hesitation and gives me a worried look. "You're not going to kick me out, are you?"
"And make you stumble down the corridors like a newborn giraffe? I don't think so."
His entire face lights up, making him look like a little boy. "I can stay?"
"Of course you can stay. It'll make round two much easier that way." Obviously, it was the answer he wanted to hear. He leans up and kisses me soundly. "You didn't really think I'd kick you out, did you?"
He shrugs, his arm tightening against me. "I didn't really think about it until just then. I'm just glad I don't have to do the walk of shame."
"Walk of shame? What the hell is that?"
"It's when you sleep with someone then have to stumble home later, usually in the same clothes only now wrinkled and disheveled and often in full view of everyone you don't want to see. It's usually reserved for people at the Academy or college age when hormones are rampant, alcohol is plentiful, and judgment is low."
I chuckle, nuzzling my head against his. "I take it you've walked with shame a few times in your life?"
"Once or twice," he answers, sighing ruefully. "Though, I really didn't feel that embarrassed by it, usually."
I shake my head, pressing my lips to his. He responds eagerly, his foot sliding up and down my calf. "Well, there'll be no walk of shame for you tonight. I can't promise any other night, but I'm keeping you here with me until the morning."
"Now that sounds promising," he says softly, capturing my lips again. I moan quietly in the back of my throat, stroking the arm draped across me. This is nice. This is really nice. The after-sex part, at least for me, has usually included falling almost immediately asleep or getting dressed to leave as quickly as possible. I generally prefer to sleep alone, but it never occurred to me to kick out Tom. The morning might present an interesting situation with trying to sneak him out of my quarters without managing to alert the crew to the fact that we slept together. If need be, I'm sure I can rig up a site-to-site transport and cover my tracks fairly successfully. Regardless, it's not something I plan to think about for a few hours. I'm actually really interested in finding out what it's like to sleep next to Tom.
I shiver suddenly, though this time it's because I'm cold. My body has finally cooled off from all of the exertion. He nods, shivering in response. "You're right. It's freezing in here." He sits up, patting around for the blankets, and I reach out to touch his back.
"I doubt they're on the bed anymore." The amount of activity my bed saw in the last few hours is essentially a guarantee that it's in shambles. I certainly don't regret it, but that amount of motion isn't without its consequences. He scoots off the bed, staggering a few steps as he looks around for the covers. I have to admit—it's nice to have someone do this for me. Within moments, he's tugging the blankets up, crawling back into bed beside me. He suddenly looks very tired, and I have to admit that he's more than earned it. He did so much for me tonight, he has every right to be exhausted.
He settles against me again, still on his stomach, pulling the covers over us as he gets comfortable. "Computer, dim the lights," I say as he rests his head once more next to mine on the pillow. My quarters grow dark, illuminated only by the ambient light over my bed. He presses a kiss to my cheek and I can't help but smile. He's ridiculously sweet.
Everything is suddenly very quiet, though. Even the hum of the engines, constant and soothing, seems to have disappeared. I close my eyes, trying to will away what I fear is about to become a very awkward silence.
"Do you remember our first kiss?"
My eyes fly open and I turn my head, finding him watching me sleepily. "What?"
"Our first kiss?"
"Of course I do. It was after the first time you took me sailing on Lake Como. You walked me to my door and I—"
He shakes his head, smiling at me slightly. "That wasn't it."
"What do you mean?" I distinctly remember kissing him for the first time just a few feet away from where we are right now. Is he getting that one mixed up with some other time? Or does he mean the first time he initiated a kiss?
"It was on Sakari."
"Oh." Of course it was. I let out a sigh, feeling disappointed. "You know, I don't really remember a lot of what happened there. Most of it's a blur. I remember biting you and wandering off, and I remember fighting over that weapon, but after that…everything's hazy. We kissed that day?"
"Just a little. Only for a few seconds. I couldn't help myself." He sounds ashamed, and my heart goes out to him. I tighten my arms around him, trying to let him know that it's all right. "You were playing me, B'Elanna. You were telling me all the things I wanted to hear and I…I couldn't stop it."
And now I feel ashamed. "Tom, I—"
"I don't want you to apologize," he interrupts, giving me a squeeze. "That's not what I'm getting at."
"Well, what was I telling you?" I haven't thought about the details of what went on during that time. I've never asked anyone about it, either. I have flashes of it sometimes. I remember beating the hell out of Vorik, at least parts of it, but most of it is very fuzzy and dreamlike, and not something that I've ever wanted to relive. Nevertheless, it's obviously stuck with Tom all this time.
"I don't know if you remember, but I kept turning you down." That rings a few bells for me, actually, and it makes sense. No matter what he might want people to believe, he's a good guy. He wouldn't take advantage of someone when she was helpless. "At one point, you told me that you knew what I felt for you and that you'd been hiding your feelings for me, that you felt the same way. I knew it was a lie—I knew it—but we kissed and I couldn't stop myself. Seriously, B'Elanna, as soon as I touched your lips, I was done. It was a lost cause. I knew that I'd wait for you for as long as it took. But I just…took advantage of the situation for a few seconds. I kissed you the way I'd wanted to kiss you for months. You let me. For a few moments, I let myself forget that you weren't yourself and just kissed you."
Even in the dim light, I can see his glum expression. I rub his back, trying to get his attention. "It's all right."
"No, it's not!" he insists. "It's not okay. I took advantage of you. I knew that you weren't in the right state of mind but I didn't care. I just wanted to live in a world where you wanted me as much as I wanted you. It was stupid. I've felt bad about it ever since."
"I forgive you," I whisper. Even though I don't remember it, I forgive him anyway. From all accounts and what little I can remember, I was out of control that day, and I don't doubt that I was willing to say or do anything to get Tom to do what I wanted. "If that's what happened, then I'm just as much to blame as you. I took advantage of your feelings for me."
"Yeah, but you had a chemical imbalance."
"Tom…do you think all of that came out of nowhere?"
He lifts his head, his expression puzzled. "What?"
"Whatever happened down there—do you think it was just case of you being in the right place at the right time?"
He blinks at me, and I can tell I've sort of lost him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, do you think that I was ready to jump whoever I saw first? Do you think that Neelix was a viable option for me during all of that? Or do you think maybe those urges came from somewhere?"
"I…I never thought about that."
"You thought you were just the closest warm body?" He shrugs, and I can't help but wonder if he's actually been beating himself up over this for months. "Tom, I may not have been in control of my instincts, and I may have said some things that I shouldn't have said, but that doesn't mean it came out of nowhere. I was in very deep denial, but I wouldn't have gone for you if there hadn't been something about you I was already drawn to."
He looks completely shocked. "Really?"
"Just think about it. If that whole mating urge thing worked that way, I would have just…" I pause, shuddering at the thought. I can't even get myself to say the words. "I would have you know'ed with Vorik. I wasn't attracted to him. I wasn't attracted to Neelix, either. But, despite my best efforts, and because you relentlessly pursued me, I definitely felt things for you. So, I promise you, when I came onto you that day, it wasn't because I didn't have a better offer. You were what I wanted." Truthfully, I'd spent the better part of the night before that mission pacing around my quarters, thoughts of Tom running rampant through my brain. It didn't make much sense at the time—neither why I had so much energy that I was nearly climbing the walls nor why all I could think about was just being close to Tom—but after all was said and done and the blood fever had been purged from my system, there was no getting around it. Ready to admit it or not, there was no doubt that I had strong, strange feelings for the guy.
His lips curl up in a smile for a few seconds before his face falls. "But still…I can't help feeling like I took advantage of you that day. I was in control of myself, and it was my job to look out for you. Instead, I lost control and let myself get carried away."
I sigh. I can tell that he's bound and determined to feel badly about this, and that's the last thing that I want. "Tom…by all accounts, you were always in control of yourself that day. You wouldn't let me do anything I'd regret, no matter how much you wanted to." He still doesn't look convinced. "Well, the first kiss I remember happened just outside my quarters," I tell him, pulling him closer to me. "You were sweet and gentle, and you let me take the lead. I remember our first kiss being nearly perfect. That's the one that matters to me. We were both in control of ourselves and we both knew what we were doing, and I knew then that I wanted to kiss you again."
"Really?" he asks, peaking up at me. "You're not upset about…"
"About something I can't remember, or about you trying your hardest to take care of me when I needed help? No, I'm not upset. That part doesn't matter. What mattered to me after that was that I knew I could trust you. I couldn't remember much of what happened, but I knew you were someone that wouldn't hurt me."
He's silent for a while, his breathing so steady that I'm pretty sure he's fallen asleep, when he speaks suddenly. "That was when I knew I had a crush on you, you know."
I look at him in surprise, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Tom Paris gets crushes on girls?"
"It's been known to happen. But really, that's actually when I knew it was so much more than a crush. I'll be honest, I had an inkling before that, but I knew as soon as I kissed you on Sakari that I was in trouble."
I run my fingers through his hair, sighing. "Thank you for being so patient with me," I whisper.
He presses his lips against my throat, and I can feel him smiling. "I told you—I would have waited for you forever. It doesn't matter how hard you pushed me away, I was always going to come back to you. Same goes for the future, B'Elanna. Try to push me away as much as you want, but I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me now."
I lean down and capture his lips, unable to find any words. I don't know if words would be good enough right now. We kiss slowly, our arms tightening, our legs sliding against each other. I'm not sure how much of what we're saying at this point in the evening is a result of the amazing sex and excess of emotions that goes along with it, or because it's what we truly feel. I don't suppose it matters much at the moment. Still, I like the idea of being stuck with Tom for a while.
We come up for air, our foreheads pressed together, and I'm a little surprised that I don't feel that sense of panic like I did before. Must be the euphoria. "Tom," I whisper. "Did we…never mind."
"What?" he asks, just as softly. "Did we what?"
"Nothing. It's ridiculous. Just ignore me."
"It's just me, B'Elanna. You can ask me anything."
It really feels embarrassing and childish to even consider asking, but I've come this far. "Was that making love?" My voice is so quiet that I can hardly hear myself, and I almost hope that Tom can't hear me, either. It sounds even more stupid out loud than it did in my head.
"I like to think so," he answers. "I'm no expert, but it felt like more than just sex to me."
Relief rushes through me, mostly because he's not going to tease me about asking something that sounds so juvenile and inexperienced. "Me, too."
He kisses me, softly, before settling his head next to mine again. His arm drapes across my stomach, stroking my hip gently. "I love you," he mumbles groggily, and this time I'm positive that he's nearly asleep.
"I love you, too." He lets out a deep, heavy sigh and his body relaxes. Within moments, his arm is dead weight on me, his breathing deep and heavy. I take the opportunity just to watch him. He looks so much younger than normal asleep. He actually looks almost innocent.
I chuckle to myself, watching him shake against me slightly. There was absolutely nothing innocent about what we just did.
Innocent. God. He must think I'm strangely naïve, asking a question like that. Was that making love? Hell. That's so embarrassing. But I was being honest earlier when I told him that I've never considered sex in those terms before. It's not as if I've never put feelings into the act—I'm not exactly devoid of emotion. I guess I just had to make sure with Tom. I mean, it's not as if I came into this relationship inexperienced. I'm sure he knows that. Technically, I've not been alive for that many years, but it's fair to say I've gotten around. I have no shame in that. Still, he does have a few years on me and, if the rumors and self-aggrandizing turn out to be true, more experience than most everyone on the ship combined.
It's just that this thing with Tom is completely new. I know with absolute certainty that I've never been in love before. I think I'm just having trouble processing it all. That's probably why I fought him for so long. Loving someone, being loved by someone…it's just something that I've never had to deal with.
I shake my head a little. I need to get out of my thoughts. The trouble is that while my body is exhausted—wonderfully, terrifically, satisfyingly exhausted—my mind is definitely travelling at warp nine.
I look down at Tom again, his face still so peaceful, his body so relaxed and at ease next to mine. I love him so much it's scary. I think that's what he feels for me, too. Maybe not as much, at least not yet, but I think he's on his way.
I sigh, trying to relax my body enough to sleep. I do envy Tom this seeming ability to fall asleep at a moment's notice. Must be a holdover from his Academy days when sleep was a precious commodity and most cadets learned how to shut their eyes and rest in what little down time they had. I was never one of those students. Of course, I can run on less sleep than most, but I was still never able to turn off my brain the way others could.
Tom mentioned the other day that he wished he'd known me then. The feeling is mutual, even though I still firmly believe that he wouldn't have liked me very much. Then again, I didn't think anyone could really like me at that point—I know I certainly wasn't terribly fond of myself. Hell, I think Tom and I might have even been at the Academy together. I'd have to check the dates with him, but our age difference matches up. He would have been in one of his last years when I started. Not that our paths had any reason to cross. Sometimes, though—especially lately—I wonder what would have happened if we'd met back then. More importantly, what would have happened if he'd been interested in me. Would I have pushed him away then?
Probably not. I was into scrawny human guys at that point. Max Burke certainly fit that bill, and we didn't even date that long. I probably pushed him away, too. Still, I can't but wonder if knowing Tom back then would have kept me in the Academy. Maybe having him around, even as a friend, would have been helpful. Having someone to rely on, the way I've relied on him for the last few years, might have been the difference I needed. Maybe having someone to talk me off a ledge would have helped so I wouldn't have gone flying off the handle any time someone looked at me sideways. A pressure valve, like Neelix suggested. Not that I would have necessarily let Tom get that close, but it's interesting to think about.
Not that I plan to mention this to him, at least not for a while. If I did, I'm sure he'd cook up some holodeck program that involved the two of us being teenagers. I think I need some time—years, probably—before I want to investigate that possibility.
I feel Tom sigh against my neck, his body wiggling a little closer to me before he settles again. I drape my arm over his, absently stroking his shoulder. My thoughts are becoming strange and scrambled—I must be more tired than I thought. His body does feel really nice pressed against mine. Considering that I frequently feel chilly—a hazard of space travel and my Klingon half's low tolerance for the cold—sharing a bed with someone actually feels good. I could be imagining things, but he seems to generate more heat than most. Of course, skin-to-skin contact creates more heat than anything else. I'm sure it won't be hard to convince Tom to sleep naked as frequently as possible.
I turn into him just a little, readjusting my arms around him. We mold together perfectly. Well, even more perfectly. I kiss his forehead and rest my cheek on the top of his head. I force my eyes shut, though I don't know how much good it'll do. Too much has happened in too short a time, and I need to try to work through it all. I know it won't happen right now, but that doesn't seem to stop my brain from trying.
Unfortunately, that's the all too human part of me. The excessively female human part of me. The part that always thinks too much. I doubt that Klingon women think this much about anything. They're all fueled by emotions.
Gee…that sounds like me, too.
How the hell has Tom managed to deal with me for as long as he has? How long will he be willing to put up with me and my strange mix of rash behavior and over-thinking? A few weeks? Months? Years? When I start arguing with him about how to raise the kids?
My eyes fly open. Kids? We've slept together once and I'm thinking about kids? My heart pounds, feeling like it's caught in my throat. No. No, I'm not thinking about…that. It was just my mind trying to figure out how long I have with Tom until he can't deal with me anymore. I doubt we'll ever get to the "let's have kids" portion of our relationship. I don't think I'll ever want kids, period. With anyone. I'd make a terrible mother.
…He'd be a good father, though. Tom just has that sort of personality that lets you know he'd somehow be a natural at childrearing, at least once he sets his mind to it.
Not that it matters, because it's not going to be an issue, at least not with us.
No way.
Somehow, though, no matter how much I protest to myself, my brain is quite willing to supply a whole slew of images, all of them relating to some distant future that includes Tom and a baby. A baby. I wouldn't have any idea what to do with a baby. I've held them before, but I've never been responsible for one. Other than spending some time with Naomi Wildman when she was small, and never on my own, my time with babies has been extraordinarily limited. And I'm all right with that.
Nevertheless, all I can see is Tom holding a baby—our baby. Oh, God, our baby. No, no, no. But there he is, in my mind's eye, holding a tiny bundle, looking at it as if it contains all the answers to the universe. I shake my head a little, trying to get rid of the image, but it won't go away. It's probably going to haunt me for a long time to come. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, it's not the worst mental image. Even though that's not going to be my or our future, it's very easy to picture Tom looking at his own child with open adoration.
I wonder if he has a preference for a boy or a girl. I don't think he'd treat one any differently than the other. He'd teach a son or a daughter everything he knows, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to show either or both how to pilot a starship. Something tells me, though, that he'd love a daughter. I think he'd be beside himself with a girl.
It's not even an issue, though. I don't need to waste any time even considering it because it's not going to happen. On this ship, we can only focus on the day-to-day. The future is even less certain out here than it usually is. Even if that future was something I wanted to consider, it wouldn't do me any good. We exist from one disaster to the next in the Delta Quadrant, and most of us try not to plan our next meal, never mind our next decade.
"Stop thinking, B'Elanna," I hear Tom mumble against my neck, making me jump. "Go to sleep."
I laugh a little to myself. I don't know how he knew that I was making myself dizzy with worry, but I'm not surprised that he figured it out. He does know me fairly well by this point.
"All right," I whisper, tightening my grip on him a little. "All right."
I doubt he heard me; his breathing is already deep and steady again. I let my eyes drift shut once more, focusing on trying to get my exhalations in time with Tom's. For now, I really do want to focus only on the immediate. There's no point in getting excited or worried about a future with him when we've only officially been together for about a day. I'm sure it'll be a while before those images of Tom with a baby start to disappear—that's not the sort of thing that you can just will away in an instant. But right now, all I really want to do is focus on the way he feels in my arms.
And the possibility that we'll wake up in a few hours and do this all over again.
I feel a smile spread over my face. That's definitely the kind of future I can focus on.
I could have split this into two chapters, but I figured if the last part didn't include any of the good stuff, it wouldn't feel like it was worth reading. Anyway, I've been reading Voyager fic for a long time. Some of it has been good, some not—on occasion, I've dabbled in it myself. Most of it went unposted, and since it was written on actual paper (showing my age over here), it's likely gone for good. No big loss there, I assure you. Anyway, I've found that writers tend to characterize B'Elanna one of two ways—raging, stereotypical Klingon, or weak, emotional, sappy human. I'm not saying that either of these are wrong, either. I just think that both are more accurate than just one or the other. She's in constant conflict with herself. She feels everything, often all at once. My least favorite bit of canon, or fic-canon, is about Klingons not having tear ducts. Makes no sense. Even if they don't typically cry (which also seems ridiculous, since they're a boisterous, emotional group of people, and crying is usually on that spectrum somewhere), they would need tear ducts to clean out their eyes. Perhaps they would need those even more, considering they evolved to be warriors, and being able to clean out your eyes seems important. But I digress.
I think it does a disservice to her character to portray her as constantly angry, or constantly simpering. She's a badass. She's tough and smart and vulnerable. I wanted to try to hit on all of those things. Also, I wanted Tom and B'Elanna on moderately equal footing. I don't think she's the sort to deal with someone she could push around for very long. I also think he would have put a lot of work into making sure he was physically capable for her. Look at Blood Fever—he was able to hold his own against her, even when she really wanted to hit him. While it's not wrong to assume she'd still be stronger than him, I just think he wouldn't be as weak as he's often written to be. (Whether or not he was actually a smooth operator in his past is not something I can answer—he was probably drunk and clumsy, but that's never really prevented someone from getting laid) At times, sure, he's probably a sub to her dom, but I would think it'd go both ways, if nothing else because it would show her trust in him.
I couldn't resist throwing in that bit at the end about B'Elanna imagining having a child with Tom. I mean, she's a girl. A half-human one at that. That's just the way girls think, whether they want to or not. I know we all know how this turns out, but I figure at some point (multiple points, really), these things crossed her mind. His, too, but definitely hers if "interesting" wasn't enough for her.
On a completely different note, anyone else completely heartbroken about Carrie Fisher? I can't be the only one that's been sobbing on and off since I heard.
And not to end on a complete bummer, thank you all so much for reading this!
