Warning: the following story contains m/m contents. STOP NOW if you are below 18 or are easily offended by homoerotic relationships.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Paramount Pictures. This fic is not written for profit.

Pairing: C/P

Fandom: ST: VOY.

Summary: Takes place after Tom's death, sequel to " When Angels Cry".

Warning: This short fic popped up from nowhere, probably induced by too much caffeine and nothing else. Warning …it **will** get weird …

Rating: NC-17

"When Angels Cry II : Angelic Visitation"

I wake up to see you very much alive.

Am I dreaming? Hallucinating?

You are beautiful, all golden and ethereal. Pure beauty, by the spirits. Your eyes are the color of sapphires, your hair gold …all shimmery gold. The hues of the sun rising.

Am I actually dreaming?


You raise a finger to your lip, smiling.

Tom? My voice dies, caught in my throat.

You glide over and leans over. Your long fine hair spills onto my chest like spun gold. You smell like jasmine …no, all the best spices combined. Then you kiss me. A soft butterfly kiss on my lips.

I raise a hand to touch your cheek but you pulls away, shaking your head slowly. You lean over again, tracing your slender fingers across my face, along my jawline. I watch your fingertips dance delicately to the base of my throat, circle my nipples and slide tantalizingly to my abdomen. You have an air of archness about you …

Spirits, Tom. You are torturing me.

You smile again, that fey smile burning into my skin …searing my blood.

Then, you reach under the blankets and tickle …

Tom, why are you doing this to me?

I can feel your fingers wrap themselves around my member and I gasp at the feeling of intense warmth through my skin. Your eyes pin me down but still you smile as you stroke the entire length of my organ until it is rock-hard.


You continue this sweet torture, stroking, caressing … ignoring my cries of pleasure. I inhale your fragrance. It is like some sort of perfume, an exotic drug surrounding me. My eyes are filled with your radiance; they close again, again as you yield fiery sensations …tease me to insensibility.

I arch up as the glorious orgasm rips through my body like an erupting volcano. I fall back onto the bed, spent and perspiring.

You draw a gentle hand across my brow, touching my skin with your fingertips lightly. With the same hand, you raise it to your lips and you lick it, like a cat lapping up milk. Silently, you get up.

Hold me, Tom. Don't go.

You turn around and I see the sadness in your blue sapphire eyes. With a rush of the spicy fragrance, you claim my lips in a passionate kiss, your golden palms on my chest. Then you push off and I can feel the wind brushing against my body as you do.

My eyes blink and you are standing with a smile on your beautiful lips. But this time, they are sad. I can see silvery trails of tears down your cheeks. You extend a hand as if to bid me farewell.

But already you are sprouting gossamer wings …already fading away as I sit up, begging you not to go.

I am talking to an empty wall.

Nightly, I wish for this angelic visitation. And nightly, you will come with your golden beauty.

And every morning, I hate to see you go.