Betty Phipps/Aries4116@aol.com

Disclaimers:  Paramount owns all the Star Trek Universe. We writers
just borrow them for a short time. 

Premise: Present time.

Rating: PG


Touch


     Sleep evaded the body of B'Elanna Torres.  It was off else where
making others sleep and leaving her wide awake.  She had never had a
problem with falling asleep when she was tired. 
     Staring at the ceiling, she willed her mind to shut down and fall into
a peaceful slumber.  Didn't work.  Her mind refused to shut down, it
kept working. 
     She thought of the experience that Chakotay and Harry had. She
had a hard time believing it herself.  Chakotay and Harry were the only
two to survive the slipstream voyage while the rest of Voyager became
part of a frozen planet. But 15 years later, Harry and Chakotay began
a journey to find Voyager and alter the course of time.  Another time
line had been erased from existence from the future. The only evidence
that was revealed was the message Seven of Nine picked up and the
message from a much older Harry Kim.  
    Turning over to her side, she stared at the pillow beside her. Usually
Tom had occupied the space, but not tonight. He was putting in a little
work on the Delta Flyer.  She knew he was "tweaking" the systems
and probably adding some more little gadgets and gizmos. He was just
a gadget and gizmo kinda guy. She loved him, he was her angel. 

     Tom Paris looked anything but that of an angel. Sweat beaded up
on his forehead and ran down the back of his neck.  His T-shirt and
blue jean clad body was squeezed under the small space of navigation
control.  
     He didn't think it would be too difficult to add some pedals for a
more realistic feel. He began wondering if he should just run is Camero
program instead. But he just had to try. You never know what you can
do until you try.  
     After a couple of hours of total brain block, Tom decided that he
needed some engineering advice.  In more ways than one. 
     The thought of B'Elanna crossed his mind. She was probably in bed
asleep. He didn't mean to spend so much time on the Delta Flyer,
things just got....carried away.  Tom began cleaning up his mess and
left the Delta Flyer in the darkness of the docking bay.

     Tom didn't plan on going to B'Elanna's. He planned on taking a
shower and going to bed. But the thought of B'Elanna won out over
the shower and bed.  At least until he got to her quarters. 
     Just the thought of her touching him, her fingers tracing along his
face and jaw, made him pick his pace up. 
     Keying in her code, he stepped into the darkened quarters. He had
to be careful of the stray boot or article of clothing that she often
strung from the door to the bedroom. He couldn't handle getting
tangled up in her bra and hurting himself.  What he couldn't handle
would be the EMH asking him what happened.  Then again, the EMH
knew him too well already. 
     Making it to the bedroom, he saw her figure under the covers,
turned away from him. He hated waking her sometimes when she
slept, especially if she had a rough day.  Then other times, he didn't.
     Quietly he walked into the bathroom and closed the door. He began
stripping his clothes off and stepped into the shower. Going to bed all
yucky was not a good idea. B'Elanna might kick him out or better yet,
give him a shower herself.  Now that idea wouldn't be so bad. 
     The warm water gently pounded on his skin, the soap washing
away the sweat from earlier. Nothing like a real shower and getting
into bed.  
     Stepping out of the shower, he toweled himself off and reached for
his robe on the wall. Just like in her quarters, she had a robe in his as
well.  Which came in handy.

     He came out of the bathroom and walked around the bed to find
B'Elanna looking at him. She was awake the whole time, listening to
him move about in the bathroom. 
     B'Elanna pulled the covers back and Tom removed the robe and
climbed in.  He turned over on his side to face the woman he loved.
They smiled at one another.

     She could smell the soap he used, and the shampoo as well. It made
her senses tingle with happiness. It calmed her in a strange way. 
Smiling at him, she ran her fingers through his damp hair.  He was
going to have one bad case of bed hair in the morning, which is why
she never went to bed with her hair wet. 
     His scalp tingled from her touch. He knew it was a bad idea to go
to bed with wet hair, but he wanted to get to bed.  She smiled at him
as her fingers brushed along his face, along his jaw line. His face was
starting to support the stubble of the day, making his skin a bit sand
papery.  
     She ran her fingers down the slope of his neck, over his upper arm
and down to his side where it rested for a brief moment before moving
to his chest. There her fingers began to play in the crisp red-gold curls
there. She never tired of playing with the hair on his chest, or feeling
those same hairs against her skin. 
     His fingers brushed against the softness of her parted lips, tracing
the beautiful shape of them. Stilling when her lips came together to
kiss his fingers.  Then in feathery light touches, he traced along her jaw
and up across to her forehead. Each ridge was traced slowly, like a
artist perfecting the perfect brush stroke. Mastering the canvas,
discovering the beauty of the woman beside him.  Loving her for who
she was inside and out.  Then he leaned closer  and pressed his lips
against her forehead. 
     She could feel the moist heat from his lips, the warmth of his body
and the touch of his hand resting on her upper arm.  Only his touch
could soothe her frayed state or excite her passion beyond her control. 
A touch had many different reactions, each one always new.
     He laid his head on her pillow, mere inches from her face.  He
could feel her steady breathing, see her beautiful face under the dim
light of the nebula they were in.  There would be no other place he
would rather be at this moment. Even the Alpha Quadrant didn't rank
in this moment. 
     She slowly watched him lean closer, his lips dotting kisses on the
tip of her nose. It ticked a bit, but she wanted him to move lower. She
knew he loved to drag out the moment, make her wait for his touch. 
     Ever so slowly, his lips descended on hers, very slowly and gently.
It was as if he was testing the waters before diving in. 
     Their lips touched that of a first kiss, shy, uncertain. Then with a
little more pressure, more enveloping.  Even with their eyes closed,
they could touch each other and see in their minds eye what was in
front of them. 
     The kiss blossomed more, each opening wider to take more, give
more. Tongues danced  a dance that never died.  A dance that grew in
passion, passion between two lovers.  Their bodies pressed together as
the kiss expanded.  Her soft supple body molded into the curves of his
more hard planned body.  One seeking the softness and one seeking
the hardness. Both opposite in many ways but similar just as well, each
needing the other. 

     The kiss ended and Tom pulled B'Elanna to his chest and wrapped
his arms around her. He could feel the heat from her face as she
rubbed against his chest.  He loved it when she would "snuggle"
against his chest.  She would always claim that Klingons do not
snuggle, they "root".  He wondered if she realized just how close those
words were.  Probably.   
     B'Elanna loved the way he felt against her. The way his chest hair
would tickle her nose always made her happy.  Made her love him
even more.  His hand caressed  her bare back, slowly, gently, lightly. 
She was content, not even a red alert would make her leave this man's
arms....at least not tonight. 

     Tom closed his eyes as B'Elanna snuggled in a little more. He never
dreamed of loving someone like B'Elanna Torres.  He never dreamed
of someone loving him, really loving him, like B'Elanna did. 
     B'Elanna rested against the warmth of her mates chest. Content,
happy and very sleepy. 
The thoughts of her insomnia disappeared as she dreamed about the
man she thought she would never find. A man who loved her for being
who she was, part Klingon and part Human. 
     Gone were the thoughts of the slipstream theory and the future that
never was. 
     Gone were the thoughts of the gas peddles.....well.....



The end.....or not?

November 98