"Yes, Sir." The turbolift door couldn't close soon enough. Tom Paris sagged against the farthest wall. "What a crappy day. I should've called in sick. What do ya think Harry, could I pass for ill?" Paris rolled his eyes dramatically and clutched at his heart.

"In more ways than one. But now that you mention it, you don't look very good. Why don't you come to Sandrine's with me?"

"So you can continue to ply me with pretty compliments?" came the sarcastic reply. "Thanks, but no thanks. With my luck Chakotay will be there and I don't need him riding me after hours too. Damn, I can't believe he reprimanded me, and in front of the bridge crew. I know he gets off on fucking me over, but the least he could have done was kiss me first," he mumbled.

Harry's look was incredulous. "Paris, you nearly steered us into a red dwarf! Not to mention that you were 15 minutes late for your shift, you forgot your combadge, which took you another 25 minutes to retrieve and return to the bridge...."

"O.K., O.K." Paris held his hands up in mock surrender as he added dryly, "thanks for not mentioning it though." They exited the turbolift and started walking towards Tom's quarters. "I would sell my soul for a blowjob and a shower right now. And not necessarily in that order."

"Whoa! You need to be having this conversation with another person entirely. I thought things were good between you and B'Elanna?"

"They are. It's just that...out of everyone on the ship to fall in love with, I pick the only sexually repressed Klingon! I've wooed, I've waited, I have begged, Harry. I mean, God, I was such a idiot during that entire Pon Farr thing. I should have just taken her. No one would have blamed me. She begged." Tom threw his arms in the air. "But no, I had to be responsible. I had to find that tiny, little bit of nobility and say no. And now...Now I can't even touch her forehead ridges. I'm going out of my mind!" Tom was talking between clenched teeth.

Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor. "Are you telling me that you're going on report because you can't get a blowjob?" He began laughing so hard that Tom had to grab his arm and pull him along.

"Sshh, do you want someone to hear you?" He released his best friend's arm. "It's not funny."

"Yes. It is. Very funny." Harry clapped a hand on Tom's shoulder and tried to stifle his giggling. "Have you tried just asking for one?"

Tom pushed the younger man's hand from his shoulder and muttered under his breath, "Klingons don't....it's too submissive for a warrior..."

"What was that, Tom?" Harry leaned in close.

"I said that Klingons don't give HEAD!" he yelled. *Shit.* Tom was relieved to find the corridor empty. He was more so that they had finally reached his quarters. He turned to see a laughing Harry sliding slowly down the wall. "Oh, get up!" Harry laughed even harder. "You are a pathetic excuse for a friend, do you know that? Harry! I hope someone steps on you." Paris angrily thumbed the lock on his quarters and stepped inside. *I need a drink.*

Harry sat there for a moment, letting his amusement fade into an occasional chuckle. He stood and turned back the way they came, a half formed thought blossoming into an idea. *I have got to find B'Elanna.*

******

*Fuck, Fuck, FUCK! Paris you are such a screw-up. If B'Elanna finds out about you've been talking to Harry about your sex life, you are in deep shit. You'll never get laid again. Ever. You have managed, yet again, to mess up one of the only good things going in your pissy, little life. Like always. God, you are such a loser!* He flung his empty whiskey glass across the room, feeling only a vague satisfaction when it shattered against the far wall.

He stripped off his uniform angrily and threw it on the bathroom floor before he climbed into the shower, turning the water on as hot as he could stand it. The burning water cascaded over him and he stood there until he felt he were boiling before turning it down to a comfortable heat. He had just ducked his head under the water when the lights went out. *What now?*

"Computer, lights." Nothing happened. *Great. This is just perfect. A wonderful ending to a winning day here in Paris hell.*

"Paris to engineering."

"This is engineering," a voice answered. Tom was surprised it wasn't B'Elanna.

"Carey? Is B'Elanna around? The lights in my quarters aren't working."

"Sorry, Torres got a call from Ensign Kim and just left. Said she'd be back in about an hour. Do you want me to send someone else? It'll be awhile, we're doing some major overhaul work."

"No. I won't be needing them..." *because B'Elanna is going to kill me and what do painfully dismembered corpses need with lights...*

"Sir?"

"Sorry. No need to send anyone, Carey. I'm just gonna hit the sack. If there's still a problem tomorrow I'll talk to Torres. Thanks anyway. Paris out." He sighed and closing his eyes, leaned against the shower wall letting the water beat against him, and his self-directed anger skip away. He was tired and beaten and felt the sting of unreleased tears under his lids. The unexpected caress on his back caused him let loose a high-pitched yelp and scramble backwards into a corner, barely managing to stay upright on the slick tiles.

"Who's there?" He stuck both hands out in front of him, groping blindly. There was a barely perceptible touch on this left arm and suddenly he was facing the corner, his cheek pressed against the cool wall and his left arm twisted behind him, just short of painful. His other arm was trapped by his body. He struggled to find purchase against the tile but a short, painful twist of his arm gained his attention.

"B'Elanna? What's going on? Have you been talking to Harry?" he began frantically. "I can explai..."

Fingers pressed to his lips silenced him. "Sshhh." A kiss to his shoulder, with the barest hint of teeth.

"But, B'Elanna," he started again. "OW!" This time the teeth bit, hard. Paris thought she broke the skin. Firmer pressure against his lips. *O.K. I understand, no talking.* He opened his mouth and licked at the fingers, trying to convey his understanding of her wish and was immediately rewarded by the soft rasp of her tongue over the bite mark, soothing the sting. Her lips left him and there was movement behind him, something soft sliding over the wrist and tightening. He was turned again, his other hand caught, and the same softness restricted him. Tom realized he had been neatly snared. He reached out with his bound hands to touch her but they were painfully slapped down. *I guess no touching either.* Despite the oddity of the situation, he could feel the heat pooling in his belly and a stirring lower down. When he didn't reach out again she rewarded him by holding his hands to her face and starting at his pinkie, slowly revering each digit, suckling at it. With every pull of her mouth electricity ran from his fingers to his erection until he thought he could climax from that alone. B'Elanna sensed his hips jerking and slowly released the thumb she had been worshipping with her mouth. *Harry, if you talked her into this I will give you every single replicator credit I have.*

His arms were then pushed up and bent so that he clasped his bound hands behind his head. He left them there obediently, clutching at his wet hair. A soft, feather light kiss touched his lips and he jumped. It didn't frighten him, it was just...unexpected. Another brushed him and he managed to remain almost still. Slowly the light, skimming kisses changed to nibbles; teeth and tongue gently teasing his lips, cheeks, and ears. He had never experienced this side of B'Elanna and the kisses were unfamiliar and exciting. Her exotic behavior, combined with the loss of sight and touch made Tom respond to the slightest pressure with tiny, jerky movements. The steam rose about him, filling his nose with the warm, musky scent of arousal.

Another taunting bite at his lower lip and he opened his mouth with a moan, yearning. Her breath came in quick, hot pants against his face. Unexpectedly his mouth was being filled, his lips being ground against his teeth, a warm tongue searching. *Yes.* He responded with quick, darting strokes of his own, sucking at B'Elanna's plump lips, releasing them and biting at her cheek, comforting the same spot a second later.

B'Elanna released his mouth and started downward, alternating between languid licks and sharp, pointed bites, easing each ache with the tip of her tongue. She hovered over the pulse beating rapidly in his neck and he tensed, waiting for a bite that never came. Instead the assault came from water slick fingers, pinching at his nipples. He gasped and arched towards her, begging her to pluck at them, to squeeze and toy with them.

Paris felt as if would come apart at the seams. He could hear his fevered, open-mouthed gasp for air echoing in the confines of the shower and B'Elanna hadn't even touched his erection. The need coiling about his thighs wound tighter and tighter until he was sure it was sentient, waiting to devour him. His hand clenched rhythmically on his own hair until he imagined it was another lover holding him. "Please," he begged.

The tormenting play of fingers on his nipples stopped, only to be replaced that her veracious mouth; he feared it would swallow him whole. Hands slid down his ribcage, over his hips and back up to rest in the hollows above his pelvis, pressing gently. B'Elanna taunted each hard pebble equally before moving lower. She inserted her tongue into his navel in a lazy spiral and slowly fucked it as *Oh God* the oozing head of Tom's cock pushed against the underside of her jaw. He rocked his hips uncontrollably, craving even the unsatisfying blunt contact.

A hand cupped his balls, squeezing and he moaned aloud. "Oh, baby....please." After what seemed an eternity a hot, moist cavern covered his throbbing head and that cruel tongue was pushing itself into his open, weeping tip. "Uuugghh!" was all he managed. He staggered and heedless of the rules, brought his arms down, grabbing fistfuls of her wet, slicked down hair and pumped. Her mouth surrounded him and ate at him until he wanted her to swallow his essence with each thrust. The tiled walls that surrounded them receded until all that remained was the flaying of his body by that sleek, wet mouth.

A teasing finger trailed up and down the crease of Tom's ass, searching for the small, puckered opening and circled it indolently, pushing against it tormentingly. Paris was drowning and couldn't find land. He shoved his body forward and cried out for the loss of touch behind him; when he strained backwards, teeth scraped his length. He begged with inarticulate words and still the mouth suckled; dragging his sanity from him until he shuddered with tears.

When the first choking sob sounded, he was penetrated, a nail scraping his prostate. The mouth relaxed and swallowed his length, bringing a nose flush against his belly. Tom screamed his release, too drained to do more than clench his hands and pulse into the throat receiving his very soul.

He was carefully settled against the wallseat, limp and spent. The water was turned off and a tender kiss pressed against his forehead. He sighed gently and murmured tiredly, "...love you." He was kissed again, this time on the lips, and B'Elanna slid down the floor and rested her cheek against his knee. He smiled and ran a hand over her head, stroking the damp hair back from her face.

His exhausted brain was trying to grapple with the smooth skin under his thumb when a familiar chirp sounded from the floor nearby.

"Torres to Kim."