Author’s Note: No disrespect intended to Mr. Lewis Carroll. It’s all in fun, and I promise to put his words back in their proper order when I am finished. Thanks to Jane St. Clair for thinking up B’Elanna’s sleepers in her lovely story, “Sleepers (with Feet),” and for her permission to mention them in this story! A happy little costumed fantasy with Our Favorite Couple. Could have taken place just any old time during the courtship of Tom and B’Elanna. Rated NC-17.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns it all. Always has, always will. I accept this.
Looking Glass Universe 1: B’Elanna Through The Looking Glass
by Diane Bellomo
Ensign Thomas Eugene Paris was glad he was a patient man. Perhaps he was only deluding himself, but more often than not, he found himself in Waiting Mode for the object of his extreme and devoted affections, Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres. Since there was nothing else in the universe he wanted to do but wait for her, he concluded that he was a patient man. Tuvok might say it was illogical, but it worked for him.
The reason for his patience this morning was that she was late again. Late, late, late, for a very important date, he began to whistle to himself, and then wondered where the heck he had come up with that. Oh yeah, the Alice stories. He was currently reading them to Naomi Wildman, in chapters, whenever she allowed him to substitute for Neelix in the role of sitter. Actually, they had finished “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” the other night during a marathon reading session and had started on “Through the Looking Glass.” They’d only made it through the first chapter of this story before they’d both conked out on the couch; Naomi curled on Tom’s lap.
What Tom did not know was that when Samantha found them there upon her return to her quarters after her shift, she watched them sleeping together for several minutes before waking Tom to tell him he could go home. The good ship Voyager was turning into an extended family, just as Kes had hoped it would.
Tom Paris, distracted by his thoughts about reading Alice to Naomi, didn’t notice his patience had been rewarded until B’Elanna had her arms around him from behind and was gently but insistently pushing her warm body tightly up against his.
“Hey, handsome, sorry I’m late. You looked miles away, anyway. Where’d ya go?”
He wriggled his posterior back into her and cocked his head to look over his shoulder at her. “Mmm…very nice, Bella. Tahiti, where else? Nah, nowhere, really. Just one of those hyperlinks your brain makes. I was thinking about ‘Alice in Wonderland.’”
“Alice in where?”
“Wonderland. You know, Queen of Hearts, ‘off with her head,’ white rabbits who are late…youch!”
B’Elanna had taken a bit of ass cheek at his mention of the word late and was pinching severely. “Never heard of it, Flyboy. Besides, I told you I was sorry.” She stopped pinching his rear end, resorting instead to stroking it, moving dangerously around his hip towards the front. This activity, while quite welcome in the privacy of their quarters, was a bit too public for the corridor just before alpha shift, no matter how empty it presently was. He knew she knew this. Hoping to forestall continued activity of this nature, he turned in her arms.
“Well, okay, I forgive you.” But as he met her gaze, he saw the smoky invitation buried in their ebony depths and could not resist. Glancing quickly around to be sure they were completely alone, he bent his head to hers.
Their lips met and she purred like a big cat, the vibrations sending a little shiver of delight all through Tom’s body. The shiver culminated in his penis and it jerked slightly against B’Elanna’s belly. She deepened the purr and the kiss, and he could feel her lips curve into a smile against his. Their arms went around one another, and they settled into a full-on liplock.
He was doomed, and he hated it when she did this to him. No. He amended his thought. He hated it when she did this to him in a corridor at the beginning of alpha shift. They’d already been verbally reprimanded once by Chakotay when he caught them in hydroponics one afternoon. He cut them a break by telling them he wasn’t counting Janeway’s first reprimand, since the entire crew had been under the influence of alien experimentation at the time. But Chakotay’s verbal warnings were legendary on Voyager. While the rest of the crew tended to forgive Tom and B’Elanna their “new love” displays since becoming a bona fide couple, this was not the case with Chakotay. You got no second chances with the ex-Maquis First Officer.
Tom couldn’t find fault with Chakotay’s methods, even though he had spent a couple hours trying. The Commander was nothing if not fair and had told them he didn’t give a rat’s ass what they did in front of others when they were off duty, but their on-duty time belonged to Voyager and she could be a very jealous lover when she wanted to be. Of course, Chakotay was right.
That didn’t help him now. It wasn’t that B’Elanna was any less aroused than he was at the moment. It was just that B’Elanna could hide it better, and it wasn’t all necessarily because her parts were on the inside. This talent was exclusive to B’Elanna Torres, one which she had successfully displayed for him the morning Mulcahey caught them in a turbolift.
It was becoming their custom during the weeks when their shifts coincided for Tom to ride to Engineering with her and then report to his duty either on the Bridge or in Sickbay. While most rides to work in the turbolift were uneventful, platonic, with only perhaps some hand-holding, there were times when they would get a little carried away.
That particular morning was one of those times, and they were necking and petting with heated abandon as the lift made its way to Main Engineering. A second before the doors opened, B’Elanna smoothly separated herself from him, rolled her shoulders, turned and exited with the calm of a thousand sunsets, leaving him flushed and erect and wondering where to put his hands. The damned uniform did nothing to hide a tent pole. Mulcahey stepped into the lift, faced forward, and burst into laughter.
With Patrick Mulcahey’s laughter still ringing in his ears, and Chakotay’s warning coming hot on its heels, he broke the current kiss with an audible smack and pushed B’Elanna out to arm’s length.
“You…are Evil Incarnate, woman. Off with your head!”
B’Elanna swayed forward against his arms, eyes barely open, her wet lips parted seductively. One hand crept down between her legs and rested there, teasing him. “Heh…”
At that second, commotion was heard in the corridor just around the bend from where they were standing. B’Elanna’s eyes popped open and she stepped away from him. Wiping her mouth the back of her hand, she turned sharply on her heel and headed around the bend toward the commotion and the turbolift. He looked down at himself.
Damn. She’d done it to him again.
* * *
Several days later, Tom arrived at the door to B’Elanna’s quarters and entered, calling for her as the door opened onto darkness. She had worked most of the previous night and all that day on some systems failure in Engineering, so it was quite possible she was sleeping. He was game for ditching their plans and crawling into bed with her, spooning up behind her, but he wanted to be sure before he went and did something he might regret later.
“B’Elanna? Bella? You here? I thought we were going to the resort tonight.” He couldn’t hear a thing, and the only illumination came from the dim light above the bed. He stopped where he was, a little afraid to go further into the room, but a little afraid not to.
Then he heard it. A rustle of clothing coming from the sleeping area, but he couldn’t see anything, nor could he identify what kind of clothing it was. The sound came again, and he looked towards the bed in time to see a…what?
It was a rabbit. A white rabbit. A small, stuffed white rabbit, held in one slim brown arm that was presently all he could see of his lover. Then she stepped fully into his line of vision and…ohmigod.
He and B’Elanna had already participated in some costumed fantasies; one, in fact, involved the stuff of childhood. B’Elanna owned a pair of blue velveteen sleepers with feet that he found more erotic than anything from the even the most raciest shop on Risa.
The sleepers did not appear very often, because the game they played that involved this costume also required that B’Elanna already be fairly exhausted, something she rarely was. He didn’t really understand the dynamics of the sleepers, only that the sight of her in them, two sizes too big for her, produced sensations in him that he could not easily describe or understand. The subdued but potent way in which they consummated their passion on the nights B’Elanna wore the sleepers had not met a rival. Until, perhaps, now.
Now she was, well, she was Alice. Of the “Alice in Wonderland” he had briefly mentioned in the corridor a few days ago. He thought she had not cared and was not paying attention. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Clearly, she had been doing her homework on this character.
She was dressed in a little girl’s-style yellow party frock, with short puffy sleeves and a full white pinafore. Any similarities to a child’s outfit ended there. The dress was cut low in the front, revealing cleavage that no child ever had, and the hemline ended about four inches above her knees. Her long, firm legs were encased in horizontal black-and-white striped silk leotards and she was wearing black, patent leather Mary Janes. Beneath the frock were petticoats, several of them, and it was this that had produced the rustling noise he had heard.
On her glossy, full lips sat the most perfect pout he had ever seen.
Tom forgot for a second just how to speak, and then it came to him, in a hoarse whisper, words from the story. “Oh, my ears and whiskers.”
She sashayed towards him, rustling and pouting. When she neared him, she held the rabbit out, and he caught a scent of citrus floating just above the earthy scent of B’Elanna herself. He remembered to close his mouth and nearly choked when a drop of spittle caught in his throat. He coughed and swallowed hard.
“You can’t think how glad I am to see you again,” she said, continuing to hold the rabbit out.
Tom took the rabbit, surprised by its weight, and let it fall onto the couch. He faced her again, drinking in the view. He was afraid to touch her, but positive that if he didn’t soon touch her, he would explode. He reached for her, speaking her name, but she stepped back.
“I beg your pardon. Did you speak?”
He began to wrack his brain for another line from this story. Think, think, think! Ah, got one, easy one. “Who are YOU?”
She took her bottom lip in her teeth for a moment, crossed her arms behind her back, ducked her head and then shyly peered up at him. “I…I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”
Tom felt the air heat up around her—a sure indication of her arousal. As for him, he was only glad they were not in a public corridor. He could restrain himself no longer, and reached out to take her by the waist, pulling her gently to him. She didn’t resist.
It was then he realized the dress was not all of a piece, but was, in fact, a skirt and top, neatly and invisibly seamed at her waistline. He fingered the seam, and glanced into her face, being sure she understood that he knew how the dress was put together. She smiled at him.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” he whispered into her ear. “I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arms around your waist.”
“What a clear way you have of putting things!” she said.
He slid his hands around her and found the place in the back that opened the seam, tugging carefully to begin releasing the bottom from the top. She rested her cheek against his chest, a submissive gesture she did not make very often. He wasted no more time in stripping the yellow skirt from her. Running his hands over the cool material of the white petticoats, he remembered another line.
“But what am I to do?”
She answered promptly, her words muffled against his uniform. “Anything you like.”
He drew her up to stand in front of him and removed the petticoats, one at a time, until it was revealed to him that the leotards were not leotards at all, but stockings, held up by a sheer black garter. There was nothing beneath the garter except B’Elanna’s triangle of thick dark curls.
“Oh, my dear paws.”
He dropped to the couch and turned her so she faced him. He released the stockings from their clips, allowing his hands to linger on her thighs for a moment. Her passivity was startling in its completeness.
B’Elanna dropped her head back and moaned. “Come, we shall have some fun now.”
The stockings had begun to fall on their own, and he drew them the rest of the way down to her shoes, unbuckling the black straps and removing them, along with the stockings. He came back to the garter, slipping his fingers beneath the top band and expanding the elastic so it came off her easily. She stepped out of it, planted her feet apart for balance and to give him better access, and placed her hands into his curly blond hair. He settled his own hands on her warm hips.
“EAT ME,” she demanded, and added, “Ensign.”
Since his demotion, she had been getting a fiendish delight out of addressing him by his rank. Though he liked to pretend this upset him, it never truly did. It most certainly didn’t in this particular situation.
“Well…luh, I’ll eat it.” He pursed his lips and blew softly on the remarkably sodden curls, producing a gasp.
His mind wandered to the night they had first made love. She was quick to caution him that they would need artificial lubrication because she would not get wet. He wondered about that but did not question her. Neither was he so vain as to think he could do anything to remedy it on his own, so he got up and retrieved the tube of jelly from his bathroom. He wanted desperately to do everything right with this woman.
He was surprised, then, upon finally touching her, to discover she was not just wet, but soaked to the point where her inner thighs were covered and it was dripping down onto the mattress. His smart-ass comment died on his lips when he looked at her.
Her beautiful sable eyes were brimming. She turned her head away from him, wiped her eyes and sniffed. She had pulled his damp hand from between her legs and was holding it against her chest, smoothing the moisture over his fingers like she couldn’t believe it had come from her. She smiled and spoke thickly, but did not look at him. “I’ve never…I’ve never…been like this before, and I’ve certainly never cried.”
What was she saying? That she did not realize she was even capable of becoming wet? The implications of this angered him immediately. He knew what it meant.
He and B’Elanna had not simply fallen into bed together. They had talked at length, many times, about their past and the course of events that brought them together. He knew she was not a virgin, just as she knew he wasn’t.
So. It meant she had cautioned him about something that was never her fault. It was the fault of the men she had been with before. They hadn’t made love to her at all—they had “conquered” her and had never given her even a moment to become ready. He wanted to find them and kill them.
It meant something else, too, something he was almost afraid to consider. It meant she was responding to him. To major screw-up, Tom Paris. Despite his uncertainty about his ability to arouse this lovely dark woman, he had somehow managed to arouse her to a point she had never before reached. It was not vanity that produced these thoughts. It was awe, gratitude. He went light-headed for a moment.
He gently turned her head back to him and kissed her eyes dry. With great drama, he grabbed the tube and threw it across the room. He was delighted beyond measure when she laughed out loud at his action. They consummated the next level of their relationship without further tears.
The tube was still in the corner where it had landed all those months ago…
He was stirred sharply out of his reverie by B’Elanna, who had painfully untangled one hand from his hair and was groping blindly for the couch. He glanced sideways and saw what she was after. He reached out, snatched the rabbit, and handed it to her, suddenly understanding why it was so heavy. Her passivity would not last. The sleepers were safe.
Turning back to her, he leaned forward to swirl his tongue into her navel, inhaling deeply.
“I do wish they would put their heads down!” she said forcefully.
Ah, god, he believed he was beginning to really like this. A lot. He moved down and parted her with his tongue, stroking her swollen clit one time. She moaned roughly and his mouth and chin were immediately soaked with her fluids. He had to grab her hips tightly to keep her from falling when her knees gave out.
“Found IT!” His turn to exclaim.
He held her there till she regained her balance, and when she was once more steady on her feet, he leaned in again and began to lick her with controlled intensity, familiar with every delicious fold of her, knowing he could bring about the desired response.
He brought one hand to her, wet his fingers, and drew his hand backward between her legs, massaging the tight ring of muscle he found there with his slick forefinger. It was a bit awkward, but not uncomfortable. Judging by the way she was squirming and humming with pleasure, he decided he could endure it.
“Ah…uh…whe…when I used to read fairy-tales, I f…f…fancied that kind of thing never happened, and…uh…now…now…here I am in the middle of one…”
Tom continued licking, burying his face in her, her fluid stinging his cheeks, feeling her hand worrying his hair. He inched forward on the couch to give himself a longer reach, and gently introduced the tip of his little finger into her anus, pleased when she pushed back against it. He continued to work his mouth on her, hearing her humming gradually mutate into a ragged, hollow panting that echoed in the room. Her knees were bent and she was quivering, but she remained upright.
He leaned away from her, cheeks glistening, and asked with almost sinister intent, “Are we nearly there?”
An inarticulate sound of pleasure and frustration escaped her, but she managed to shove his face back into her, moaning, “Faster! Faster!”
Boy, she really had studied the Alice stories. He returned to the task at hand, redoubling his efforts, keeping firm hold of her hip and using only his tongue and finger to coax her to the orgasm he knew was waiting very nearby. In a matter of minutes, he felt a subtle stretching of her skin beneath his hand when she brought the arm that was holding the rabbit up over her head. Her anus convulsed around his finger at the same instant a fresh wash of warm liquid covered his face. He lapped at her and stirred his fingertip in tiny circles. She roared to wake the dead and gave the rabbit a mighty fling. He heard it hit the far wall with a gratifying crash and in the same second, he released her and caught her in his lap.
“You may rest a little now,” he chuckled.
She popped her eyes open and smiled at him, laughter in her voice. “Why, I do believe we’ve been under this tree the whole time!” She stretched up to reach his mouth. The kiss deepened immediately, and Tom shifted his body so she rested beneath him on the couch. His fingers wandered down her belly towards the damp, black curls, wanting to touch what he had tasted.
His movements became broad and exaggerated, as if someone had increased the artificial gravity in her quarters. But he knew it wasn’t that. He lifted his mouth from hers and filled his lungs, looking down into her dark eyes. The words he uttered may have come from a work of fiction, but they were true nonetheless.
“You make me giddy.”
“Hush!” she said, lifting a finger to his lips. “Not yet. There’s a great deal to come before that.”
He kissed her finger and brushed it aside with his lips. B’Elanna let her hand fall to her chest and closed her eyes. She slid her heel up until her foot was flat on the cushion and let her knee fall sideways towards the coffee table. Exhaling slowly, he placed tender kisses upon her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, and her beautiful forehead ridges. His fingers caressed her intimately.
No, he knew nothing in her quarters had changed. He had changed. He was drunk with her, full of the scent and feel and taste of her, and he could not, at present, imagine how he had ever lived without her.
For a few minutes, she undulated fluidly beneath him, welcoming his touch, satisfied with this contact, and then it became clear she wanted more. She began to tug at his uniform pants.
He pulled back from her. He was loathe to move, but neither did he want to lose another pair of pants. “Wait, B’Elanna.” He undid the closure, twisted to a seated position, and worked the pants down around his ankles. They’d go no further unless he took off his boots, and he was not sure he could remember how to do that.
He sat up and stole a look at B’Elanna. She was grinning like a mad thing. A mad hatter. She was also touching herself in the way only a woman can touch herself, and the sight brought another piece of dialogue into his rapidly-fading thought processes.
“H...h...h…” The sound became a groan. He was hot. Well, yes, he was hot, but he was also mighty…hot. B’Elanna kept her quarters several degrees warmer than was comfortable for the average human, to accommodate her half-Klingon physiology. He had easily gotten used to that, but right now he felt like he was wearing two uniforms, possibly his EVA suit, too.
Willing himself to focus just a little, he tried again to speak, and this time he managed to string all the words together. H…h…how are you getting on now, my dear?”
If she said it, he would die.
She lazily stirred her clitoris with her middle finger, staring into his glassy blue eyes. “As wet as ever.” She brought the finger to her mouth and licked it from base to tip very slowly, showing an extraordinary amount of tongue.
He died. He died right there on the couch. Well, no, what he did was lean over and tear at his boots, clumsily throwing them off. He stood, swaying with the sudden motion, stepped out of his pants and shoved his boxers down and off, barely mindful of his erection. He then stripped himself of his uniform top and everything underneath.
When the air (warm though it was) hit his sweating body, it raised goosebumps over every inch. Standing naked and chilled, he reached to lightly stroke the underside of his penis. It jumped against his hand, and he felt a cold burst of adrenaline enter his system.
Taking hold of himself with serious intent, he turned to look at B’Elanna. Pumping with familiar ease, he began to recite.
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.”
She vocalized a combination laugh/snarl as he finished the verse and held her arms out to him. In a well-practiced move, he fell into them, allowing her to catch his right wrist in her left hand and grip it tightly. She stopped just short of snapping it, knowing this would not fare well for his ability to fly the ship, but he knew the joint would be swollen and aching by morning, which was a far different thing.
“Please, then,” he asked, “how am I to get in?”
“There might be some sense in your knocking,” she answered, grinning ferally, “if we had the door between us.” She wrapped her free hand around his penis, brushing her little finger over the leaking tip, and guided him to her. When they were belly-to-belly, she finally let go of his wrist, emptied her lungs in one lengthy gust, wrapped her legs and arms around him, and began to rock against him.
She also bit him at the base of his neck, but he was expecting this and knew his response was to return the bite. He knew his bites were never as bad as hers were, even though she craved them; he just couldn’t bring himself to sink his teeth in too far. As it was, his mouth filled with the coppery taste of her blood. She pushed her head back into the couch’s throw pillow, growled in supreme satisfaction, and increased her motion.
Tom heaved in counterpoint until her rhythm began to falter with the start of her orgasm. He worked his left arm between her and the couch and settled his hand on her ass, keeping her with him as she abandoned tempo for a more primal urge.
“Huh…ah…uh…” He knew she was struggling to find words from the story, but her passion would not allow coherence. He continued thrusting against her and began to feel the little convulsive ripples along the entire length of his penis that signaled her imminent release.
“Oh, ‘tis love, ‘tis love, that makes the world go round!”
“Tom…TOM…t..tom...t.t..tt…!” She began a full-body quaking, accompanied by a choking sound that might have sounded to someone else as though she were having trouble breathing. But not to Tom. He knew his half-Klingon lover was about to once again demonstrate for him just what it was about Klingons. His own body tensed for the ride.
She stiffened and he felt contractions grip him with strength that brought tears to his eyes. Her heels dug into his lower back and her nails pierced his skin. She shimmied against him, snarled like a panther, turned her head, and sank her teeth into the sensitive flesh of his inner arm.
As he felt the skin tear and fresh pain envelope him, he erupted full force into her, shouting “Alice!” with as much gusto as his climax and his pain would allow. He collapsed on top of her, wheezing and laughing into the space between her shoulder and the couch.
She took his full weight without problem, as she always did, and repeated a line to him. “You may rest a little now.” Using the most convenient tool at her disposal, she licked blood from his arm.
He tried to laugh with more conviction, but couldn’t summon enough breath to do so. She spoke again, and he could hear the smile in her voice. She had taken his bruised wrist and was massaging it with an engineer’s expert touch. B’Elanna Nightengale, she always tended the wounds she had inflicted.
“Come away, my dears, it’s high time you were all in bed.”
As they disengaged themselves and headed towards the bed, he wondered what other children’s story they could use in this manner. It was then he noticed she had never removed the top part of the outfit. Mm…perhaps they hadn’t quite reached the end of this story.