Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Viacom/ Paramount. I am just borrowing them for fun, not profit. Synopsis: Sequel to "Denim Blues". PWP. Fluff. P/T, with a tiny bit of J/C. NC-17. Set some time after Prey and before events mentioned in The Killing Game.
Denim Blues II
by Julie Evans (firstname.lastname@example.org)
"Holodeck One." B‘Elanna Torres leaned back against the rail as the turbolift started to move, feeling supremely irritated. She‘d been getting used to working double shifts several times a week. It was becoming something of a norm on Voyager recently, particularly now while they were traveling through Hirogen populated sectors. There hadn‘t been any run ins with the Hirogen since the incident with the Species 8472 alien, but it could happen. And it was better to be prepared, at least as prepared as Voyager could be traveling alone in unfamiliar space. B‘Elanna had no complaints about that. She didn‘t mind working hard, she‘d worked the equivalent of "double shifts" by choice numerous times, unwilling to leave Engineering until she was totally satisfied that everything was in perfect order. But tonight she‘d really wanted everything to go according to schedule, even if that was generally a foreign concept on Voyager. Instead a minor disaster had occured, and she‘d ended up working through her break realigning every circuit in the IPS conduit system. After Tom‘s break last night, she‘d been greatly anticipating her break tonight. Damn, she‘d needed that break.
The turbolift door slid open and B‘Elanna stepped out. Tom hadn‘t sounded angry when she‘d called him with the bad news, just disappointed. But not as disappointed as she‘d felt. He‘d just told her not to worry about it, not to work too hard, and to try and get some sleep. They‘d made a quick if vague plan to get together in the next day or two, when they both had some scheduled time off that actually coincided.
B‘Elanna strode past Holodeck Two nodding curtly at the ensign who passed her. Well, maybe she could salvage some of the evening. She‘d gotten off shift a little early after all, thanks to Chakotay. She‘d called him with a report once the IPS system was back on line, and he‘d told her to knock off early. She hadn‘t argued. Instead she‘d immediately called Tom‘s quarters, and had gotten no answer. At her inquiry the computer had informed her that Tom was in Holodeck One, where Sandrine‘s was running. Watching Tom do his pool shark routine wasn‘t exactly how she‘d envisioned their moments together tonight, but here she was ten minutes after signing off her shift reports. The door to Holodeck One slid open as she approached and she walked into the dim atmosphere of Sandrine‘s. Her gaze flew first to the pool table and she was surprised to see that it was deserted. In fact there were very few people in Sandrine‘s at all. She surveyed the room quickly and spotted Michael Ayala and Amanda Lang talking at a back table, Ensign Molina bent over several printed reports at another table, and a few meters away Chakotay and the captain were studying a dataPADD together with rapt attention. She noticed Chakotay was still in uniform, he must have been going off duty himself about the time she delivered her report. B‘Elanna glanced at the bar, where the everpresent Sandrine stood surveying the activity- or lack thereof- around her. B‘Elanna was just about to turn around, disappointed that Tom wasn‘t here after all, when she saw pair of legs and a rear end encased in snug fitting jeans just visible in the shadowy area beneath the bar counter. It took her a second to realize why he was crouched in such a position. Tom, occasionally brilliant but somewhat eccentric holoprogrammer, had placed the access controls in a panel just under the bar.
B‘Elanna walked toward him and shot another quick glance around the room. No one was watching her, they were all absorbed in their own activities. Except Sandrine, who wasn‘t looking directly at B‘Elanna but who never seemed to miss anything. But she didn‘t count. B‘Elanna stopped where Tom was bent over and half hidden beneath the bar and leaned over just far enough to press her hand against his denim clad rear end and qive it a quick squeeze. Her victim reacted by quickly jumping to his feet, his head just missing a collision with the bar counter in the process. And the smirk on B‘Elanna‘s face disappeared as she found herself staring into the surprised face of Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. Oh, shit. Hardly a constructive thought, but it was all B‘Elanna could manage as a rush of heat suffused her face. She felt momentarily dizzy. The lighting was too dim for her to see clearly, especially under the bar area, and she hadn‘t even conceived that someone other than Tom might be crawling around under there.... Shit.
Tuvok simply stared at her, nonplussed, for several moments. Finally his eyebrow rose. "Lieutenant Torres. I assume you...require my attention?" Tuvok‘s face had resumed its expressionless repose after his initial look of surprise, but B‘Elanna was sure she heard a trace of sarcasm in his voice. And even though she was sure no one had seen her action, she felt like every eye in Sandrine‘s was on her right now. "I‘m sorry. I...I didn‘t mean...I didn‘t realize..." Gods, she was stammering. Why couldn‘t Voyager slam into one of those endlessly appearing anomalies at a time that would benefit her, like now. "I mean, I-" "Perhaps you wanted to assist me?" Tuvok suggested drily, his eyebrow rising even further.
Oh, great, Tuvok was actually taking pity on her. And out of the corner of her eye she could see Sandrine watching her with undisguised amusement. Didn‘t the woman know she could be deleted, permanently? B‘Elanna took a deep breath and hoped her voice was steady. "Yes, of course. Is it an engineering problem?" "The lighting would not adjust on voice command. A minor glitch. Computer, increase lighting by twenty percent." At Tuvok‘s command the interior of Sandrine‘s brightened noticably. "It appears your...creatively rendered offer of assistance is not required after all, Lieutenant." B‘Elanna really hoped no one was watching her exchange with Tuvok, because she was sure the increased lighting only highlighted the mortification that must be completely visible on her face right now. "Lieutenant Commander, it was a case of mistaken identity. I thought you were...someone else..." Someone else who wore a pair of jeans equally well. Lord, what had she been thinking? And what was Tuvok doing wearing jeans- snug fitting, well worn jeans? "I didn‘t know that Vulcans wore jeans." If Tuvok heard the suddenly accusatory tone in B‘Elanna‘s voice, he didn‘t react to it other than raising an eyebrow again. "Denim is a very versatile and durable fabric, and quite comfortable, particularly when repeatedly washed and worn. The material was unknown on Vulcan until contact with Earth was established. Humans are not always diligent adhering to the most practical of applications for a given material. However, denim was found to be an exception, and thus Vulcans have quite logicially adopted its use." "I see..." B‘Elanna had never been aware of that fact, but at least Tuvok‘s dissertation on the subject had given her time to regain some composure. Now if she could get out of here without further ado- "Vulcans do recognize a good thing when they see one." B‘Elanna almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Chakotay‘s voice right next to her. She hadn‘t even seen him and the captain approach. She gave him a lethal glare but his attention was on Tuvok.
"I have several pairs of jeans myself," Chakotay added conversationally. "You know, they‘ve been around on Earth for almost six hundred years. I guess that goes to show you that you can‘t improve on some things, including a pair of well worn blue jeans." He cast a speculative look at Janeway, who was wearing a loose silk pantsuit. "Though I don‘t think I‘ve ever seen you in a pair, Captain." "I‘m not sure they‘re appropriate attire for a captain, even off duty." Chakotay‘s expression made it clear he wasn‘t buying that argument and Janeway met his gaze and shrugged. "Okay, I do own a pair, but I have to admit that since Neelix‘s cooking has improved I‘ve gained a pound or two, and my jeans are just a little...tight." Janeway almost drawled the last word and B‘Elanna almost got the impression that the captain was baiting Chakotay, though she told herself that couldn‘t be.
"How tight?" Chakotay‘s tone was definitely suggestive. And he didn‘t flinch as the captain very deliberately gave him one of her patented warning looks. He seemed to take that look as some sort of challenge.
"Captain." Tuvok cleared his throat. "I will have the preliminary report on the new Security system override protocols for you tomorrow morning." B‘Elanna was grateful Tuvok had interrupted what seemed like some sort of private word play between the captain and Chakotay. She couldn‘t believe she was going through these endless minutes of hell because she‘d wanted to see Tom. Because all day she‘d been imagining Tom in his damned jeans.
The captain looked at Tuvok as if she‘d just remembered he was there. "There‘s no hurry, Tuvok. Don‘t feel you have to work on this when you‘re off duty." "It is no imposition, Captain," Tuvok replied. He glanced over where Ensign Molina was still closely studying several reports. "I often find it satisfying to use my off duty time for constructive purposes." The captain simply nodded. She rarely questioned Tuvok‘s choice of pursuits. "Have a good evening, Tuvok." She looked at B‘Elanna then, and her expression became speculative, as if it suddenly occured to her to wonder just what B‘Elanna was doing in Sandrine‘s, and without Tom. Or perhaps she saw the lingering flush on B‘Elanna‘s face and was curious about what had caused it. But she only said, "B‘Elanna, you have a good evening, too." "I will, Captain." Not likely. The best she was hoping for now was to get out of here quickly. She returned Chakotay‘s departing smile and watched him and the captain leave. Then she reluctantly turned her gaze back to Tuvok. "I should be going, too." She wished she could leave it at that, but she felt Tuvok‘s gaze boring into her. "Tuvok, I‘m very sorry. It really was unintentional." Tuvok nodded impassively, apparently accepting her apology.
"Goodnight." B‘Elanna turned and gratefully headed for the door at something only a little less than a full run.
B‘Elanna stopped just within range of the door sensors and looked back at Tuvok. "Yes?" "You missed Lieutenant Paris by approximately 6.54 minutes. He is no doubt in his quarters by now." "Thank you." She turned back toward the holodeck door as it slid open.
"It appears Lieutenant Paris also appreciates the practical qualities of denim, since that was his choice of attire this evening..." B‘Elanna slipped through the doorway and into the corridor without commenting on Tuvok‘s observation. For a supposedly emotionless Vulcan, she was sure she heard an undercurrent of dry amusement in his voice. She cursed herself all the way to Deck Five. That occupied her enough to keep her from asking herself why she didn‘t cross the Holodeck as she usually did and take the turbolift closest to her quarters, instead of the one that deposited her at the farthest end of the deck. Which forced her to walk right by the Tom‘s quarters to get to her own.
She stopped and stared at his door. He wasn‘t expecting her to show up tonight. Up to this point in their relationship they‘d pretty much "preplanned" their time together, given each other lots of warning. Well, except on a few implusive occasions. Like last night.
B‘Elanna frowned. He was probably getting ready for bed. Or was already in bed asleep. After all, he‘d worked a double shift last night. She should just keep going, and get some much needed sleep herself. And that humiliating scene on the Holodeck had pretty much killed the mood anyway.
Like hell it had. She hadn‘t been able to get rid of that mood all day. And maybe she deserved some compensation from Tom after that scene on the Holodeck. It was partly his fault after all. B‘Elanna pressed Tom‘s door announcer and waited several seconds. No answer. Maybe he really was asleep. Or not in his quarters at all. She started to ask the computer to locate Tom, then changed her mind and punched in the manual release code. The door slid open, and she walked across the threshold, suddenly wary of disturbing Tom if he was asleep. She‘d only taken two steps before she stopped dead in her tracks.
Tom was standing several meters away with his back to her, and his arms raised over his head, which was covered by a blue jersey shirt he was obviously in the process of taking off. The muscles in his back rippled slowly as he pulled the shirt up. Tom wasn‘t a heavily muscular man, but his body was well toned and his muscles were well defined. And not just the muscles in his back. He was wearing his jeans. Like her own favorite pair, they were faded and worn thin from repeated. Sadly there were no strategic holes yet, but they fit him like a second skin. They clung to every line of his firm, well toned butt. No, his firm, well toned ass, she corrected herself. Because that‘s how she really thought of it. Except that she now thought of it rather proprietarily as hers as well as his. And the muscles in that well shaped ass tightened visibly along the snug lines of his jeans as he stretched to pull the jersey all the way over his head and let it drop to the floor. Then he turned around.
She realized he must have heard the door open. His hair was tousled from passage of the shirt, and his blue eyes looked at her, surprised, but- oh yes- definitely pleased. But he didn‘t say a word as she looked him up and down. The muscles along his chest were as well defined as those of his back, but were covered with a soft scattering of red gold hair. Red gold hair that spread down his pecs and slowly narrowed down his abdomen to his navel, and finally became a fine line that snaked from his navel to the spot where the top button of his jeans was undone. Her gaze narrowed at the spot where that fine red gold hair disappeared into the shadowy confines of his jeans. And her eyes continued to the bulge below, where the worn denim material seemed to be strained almost beyond its capacity.
Damn. She could barely breathe. Her eyes shot up and collided with his. She realized she‘d been staring at him for a close to a full minute. And that he‘d been watching her face the whole time, drinking in her reaction to him. While he‘d been virtually posing for her. His eyes held hers and a slow, stunningly seductive smile spread across his lips.
Resist, B‘Elanna, she told herself. At least for a minute or two. She didn‘t want Tom to get too complacent. She managed to keep her voice steady, and her tone annoyed, despite the fact that her throat was dry. "Why didn‘t you answer your door?" "The door announcer hasn‘t worked for two days. I‘ve been meaning to put in a work order, but I just haven‘t gotten around to it yet. People have either been calling me on the commlink, or, in your case, just walking in." Tom answered the question matter of factly and B‘Elanna realized that she‘d invaded his privacy, and he might have every reason to be annoyed. "The privacy lock wasn‘t engaged. I‘m sorry if I-" "B‘Elanna." Tom moved. Finally. Toward her. "You can come into my quarters unannounced any time." He stopped mere centimeters from her. "You must have gotten off early." "Uh, yes." B‘Elanna looked at his lightly furred chest, then with some effort moved her gaze back up to his face. "We finished up with the IPS system and Chakotay told me to take the rest of the shift off since I missed my...break." Tom‘s eyes stayed locked with hers. "I was in Sandrine‘s for a while. I even wore my jeans just in case you unexpectedly showed up and wanted to cop a feel." B‘Elanna almost choked at Tom‘s unintentionally ironic reminder. She gritted her teeth at the reaction she couldn‘t control. Tom stared at her, then his lips again spread into a slow smile, this time a little bemused. "B‘Elanna, you‘re...blushing." He moved a step closer and his jean clad legs brushed up against hers. "I‘m still wearing them," he said softly.
B‘Elanna looked down at his open waistband. "Barely." Tom‘s breath ruffled her hair as soft chuckle escaped him. "Wanna have sex?" he whispered, in a husky drawl. As far as B‘Elanna was concerned that was enough with the games. She did what she‘d been wanting to do for the last few minutes. All night. All day. She slid her arms around him and grabbed his ass. Hard. And pulled his pelvis against her abdomen. "What do you think?" His smiled broadened, then faded a little and he let out a small gasp as she slid her hands into the back of his jeans and ground even harder against him. Her hands, instead of encountering the cool cotton of the briefs he favored, splayed across the warm, firm skin of his cheeks. "Tom, you‘re not wearing any underwear." "Uh, yeah. No." He shifted against her, and the glint in his eyes was a mixture of mischief and desire. "I guess I...forgot to put them on." B‘Elanna‘s hands kneaded Tom‘s skin firmly as his hands pushed her uniform jacket off her shoulders. She pressed her wrists against the denim material, pushing it downward. It didn‘t move far, and Tom groaned.
"Uh, B‘Elanna," Tom‘s voice was hoarse. "Given my condition at this point, you‘ll definitely have to undo the rest of the buttons." "Oh." B‘Elanna smiled and her eyes traveled downward. She slid her hands out of Tom‘s jeans and up his lower back, causing him to shiver. She pulled her hands away long enough for Tom to push her jacket off, then reached for the fly of Tom‘s jeans. Tom‘s hands stopped her in mid motion. She looked at him questioningly.
"What about the rest of your clothes?"
B‘Elanna‘s eyes narrowed at his suggestive smirk.
"I‘m half undressed, shouldn‘t you be, too?"
B‘Elanna gave him a searing look that let him know that she was heartbeat away from body slamming him to the floor and having her way with him. He didn‘t flinch in the slightest. But she didn‘t want it to happen that fast, so she quickly stripped off her uniform until she was clad only in her bra and panties. Then she met Tom‘s ravenous gaze, and was rewarded by the sound of his shallow breathing as he stared at the tiny black lace bra and matching g- string she was wearing.
"B‘Elanna..." Tom drawled her name in that incredibly sensual way of his, the way that made her go weak at the knees. He moved his eyes up and met her gaze. "You actually wore THAT under your uniform all day?" He asked, his eyes alight with appreciative amazement.
"Yes." And every time she‘d moved and she‘d felt the string sliding along the crack in her ass, she‘d thought of Tom and why she was wearing it. It had been a really long day. Tom reached up and cupped her breasts through the sheer lace of her bra. He squeezed gently and ran his thumbs across her erect nipples. B‘Elanna only allowed herself a moment‘s pleasure before she brushed his hands away and dropped to her knees in front of him. "Your jeans, Tom." She heard Tom‘s sharp intake of breath as her hands closed over the faded denim. She gripped the edges of his fly and tugged hard, popping the second button from its hole. Her tongue darted out and touched the warm sensitive skin of his lower abdomen, wetting his skin. He groaned. She popped each button, one by one, letting her tongue trail down his heated skin, lapping the salt and musk of him, until she popped the last button.
"B‘Elanna..." Tom‘s groan was almost a wail, and she felt his hands slip into her hair as she gripped the waistband of his jeans and pulled them down, completely freeing his swollen erection. She took him all the way into her mouth in one long, slow movement. He shuddered and his hands tightened in her hair and pulled.
She released him, letting her tongue trail along the sensitive underside of his erection as it slid completely out of her mouth. She looked up at him as he gripped her shoulders and pulled her up against him into a standing position.
"I won‘t be able to hold back, and I want to do this together," he said hoarsely. Then his mouth locked on hers and their tongues sucked and tangled, sharing the taste of him. Tom kicked his jeans all the way off as they continued to kiss urgently. His hands unclasped her bra and tossed it aside, then he gripped her g-string from behind. She didn‘t want any more delays so she closed her hand over his and tugged hard, snapping the string in two. Tom pulled it from her and let it drop to the floor. Then he slid his hands down to cup her firm, softly rounded ass and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as their mouths continued to devour each other.
B‘Elanna felt Tom loosen his grip on her as he carried her toward the bed. She wondered briefly if they would make it as she opened her legs slightly and slid down until she felt the hard length of him nestled against the crack in her ass. Her own juices had left a slick trail along his lower abdomen and she pressed against him and bucked slightly, causing delightful friction between her ass and his erection. She was more than ready, and she moved to reposition herself, intent on getting him inside her. Then Tom completely released his hold on her and she dropped uncermoniously onto the bed, momentarily losing all contact with his body.
Her protest died as Tom draped himself over her and entered her in one quick strong thrust. He stared into her eyes for a long moment, holding completely still inside her, waiting for her to make the next move. She held his gaze for a moment longer, then grasped his hair and pulled him roughly down and shoved her tongue into his mouth. He answered by pulling partway out of her then thrusting even more deeply as her hips rose to meet him, and within moments they established a timeless, natural and immensely satisfying rhythm. B‘Elanna wrapped her legs around him and her hands raked up his back, leaving long narrow red marks. Tom kneaded her breast with one hand while their mouths continued to plunder each other. Their rhythm and breathing intensified and finally Tom pulled back, then thrust slowly and deeply one last time as they clung to each other and fell together over the edge, crying out each other‘s name.
B‘Elanna lay breathing heavily and feeling gloriously spent, at least for the moment, as Tom collapsed on top of her, his heart beating at a frantic pace against hers. Finally Tom pulled out of her and rolled over onto his back, keeping his arms around her and taking her with him until she was nestled against his chest. She snuggled closer and threw her leg across Tom‘s, then smiled up at him. His hand stroked her hair. "Stay," he cajoled softly. "I don‘t know, Tom. I need to be in Engineering early in the morning to check on some reports..." Tom was well aware of what "early" meant to B‘Elanna. "You can set my alarm for 0500 so you can sneak back to your quarters to shower and change and still have time to grab some breakfast." "0430," B‘Elanna countered. That way she could be sure to avoid any chance of running into the earilest riser on Voyager, Tuvok. She hoped to keep avoiding him for quite a while.
"0430!" Tom closed his eyes and groaned dramatically. "Okay."
He sighed and hugged her. "At least I don‘t work a double shift tomorrow."
"Neither do I."
"Hmmm." Tom looked at her thoughtfully. "I wonder if we can
reserve one of the Holodecks for tomorrow evening for a little
"Don‘t say it- skiing."
Tom shook his head. "It gets a little cold and wet skiing in jeans.
We‘ll have to come up with something else..."
B‘Elanna looked at him, then across the room where his jeans lay in a faded blue heap on the floor. She raised an anticipatory eyebrow.
"You‘re going to wear your jeans?"
"Depends. Are you going to wear yours?"
A slow smile spread across B‘Elanna‘s face. "I take it this program will have a fully engaged privacy lock?"
Tom grinned. "It had better have."
B‘Elanna slid her leg slowly up along Tom‘s.
"Uh, B‘Elanna- aahh- shouldn‘t we get some sleep if my alarm‘s going to go off at 0430?"
"Ummm, yes- oooh... we should."
And they did. Eventually.