By Janice Liedl-Myatt
Rated: NC-17 for explicit m/f sex, not intended for minors.
Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager and all characters property of Viacom and Paramount. I make no claims of my own. I just play with their toys (nicely). You may print or repost this story, provided you include this disclaimer and give credit to the author.
Summary: Trapped in a turbolift, how are Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres supposed to pass the time until a repair crew arrives? Responding to a PTFever List Challenge.
Tom Paris stopped cold as he rounded the corner from Sickbay. Pulling a four-hour stint with the doc, reviewing triage protocols, hadn't been the cheeriest experience of the past few days, although he relished the EMH's grudging praise at the end of a simulated emergency. Now he was exhausted, the adrenaline rush that had carried him through the medical studies ebbing as his body reasserted its demands for rest and recovery after eighteen hours awake. The doctor had pressed a medical tricorder on him as he left, instructing Tom to review its recorded tutorial on arterial repairs. Tom planned to dump the device on the table in his quarters and forget it about it, at least for a few hours. All he wanted was to get into the turbolift, ride the short distance up to his quarters and collapse in his bed. But his hopes were dashed as he saw the open doors of the turbolift before him. On the floor of the compartment lay an array of engineering tools. Dangling incongruously from the ceiling of the lift were a pair of shapely black-clad legs. One foot flailed about, seeking a small ladder standing just to one side.
A grin crossed Tom's weary face as a muffled Klingon curse confirmed his suspicion that it was B'Elanna Torres in the turbolift. He speeded his pace the last few metres and quietly stepped into the turbolift. While one hand shifted the ladder directly under B'Elanna's searching foot, he peered up into the small opening. Darkness obscured his vision, but it definitely was B'Elanna. His intimate acquaintance with the finer parts of her anatomy (Tom paused to cast a loving eye along her slim derriere) confirmed the diagnosis.
Thankfully, the engineer had already gotten a foothold on the ladder, or B'Elanna would have tumbled through the small access door down to the floor of the lift. As it was, Tom was treated to a louder string of Klingon epithets as she carefully extracted herself from the access hatch and emerged into the confines of the lift. Her hair was mussed and slightly sweaty and her eyes were narrowed in anger as she stepped off of the ladder and onto the floor.
"What'd I do?" Tom asked plaintively as her gaze lingered.
"Nothing but almost kill me! Tom, it's the middle of gamma shift. What the hell are you doing here?" B'Elanna crossed her arms in a familiar stance. Inwardly, Tom groaned. A piqued B'Elanna Torres was not one of his favourite sights, especially as tired as he was, when he was likely to say something unguarded, outrageous that would stoke her fury. His tired brain strove to marshal his thoughts.
"Well, I was working here with the doctor." Tom's free hand swept to the side and backwards, indicating the medical suite where he'd been working. "Remember? I've got extra hours to put in at Sickbay, refining my medical skills."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly and B'Elanna's chin lost its guarded tilt. "Oh, yeah, right. I forgot. But what was the doctor thinking? Didn't you put in a full shift on the bridge, earlier?" Anger coloured her voice and she made to step past Tom into the corridor, obviously intent on striding into Sickbay and dressing down the holodoc. Tom restrained her with a hand on her upper arm.
"Yeah, the doc knows. Don't blame him, it was my request," Tom explained as he urged B'Elanna back around to face him. "I figured if I got these hours cleared off now we'd have a little more time together later." He relinquished his grip and lifted his hand to straighten and stroke her hair.
B'Elanna's brown eyes closed and she momentarily leaned into Tom's caress. But only for a moment, then her eyes opened ruefully. "Time together, Tom? You must be dreaming. It seems like Chakotay has got us scheduled for completely opposite shifts and every time I have a rest day, you're drawing double duty or vice versa."
"Well, I never thought I'd say this, but I don't think you can blame Chakotay for this. I'm beginning to think he actually kinda likes me. But since we realized how dependent we are on the holodoc, when we thought we'd lost him in the array, he and the captain have pushed me to complete my training. It just happens that it's easier to do that during the gamma shift, when there aren't so many people needing to use sickbay." He smiled as he heard himself. Who'd have thought that Tom Paris would be defending Commander Chakotay? Would wonders never cease?
B'Elanna waved her hand tiredly, then stepped aside from Tom's gentle hold to bend and begin to stow her tools. "Whatever you say, Tom, but it's still damned inconvenient. You've promised me that we were going to get to use the holodeck again, our next free day together, but that looks like it won't be for ten more days! We hardly ever see each other." Speaking rapidly, B'Elanna efficiently stowed her tools and moved them and the ladder to sit just outside the turbolift.
Tom helped her set them against the wall. "Well, we're together now," he said ingratiatingly.
B'Elanna's laugh was short and dismissive. "For all the good it's going to do, Paris. We've got a huge repair list and everyone else in Main Engineering is tearing their hair out, trying to manufacture four hundred new metres of flex wiring for the internal monitors that Tuvok found were all damaged during the Hirogen's `visit'." She pushed a dark strand of hair behind her ear then, with her hands at the small of her back, groaned feelingly. "We'll never get it all done."
"Why aren't you down there in Main Engineering, working on the wiring instead of tinkering with turbolifts?" Tom asked.
"Because I've already had two other people try to fix the lift and it keeps stalling out. I think there was some undetected damage to the command interface during the Hirogen takeover. Probably the best thing would be to install a new one but. . . ." B'Elanna's voice trailed off in frustration and she looked down. A new problem caught her eye. "Damn!"
"What?" Tom's eyes followed her downward and saw the rip in her smock and uniform top. Liberally smudged with lubricant and dust where she'd leaned against the edge of the access hatch, a small trickle of blood seeped out from a scratch on her abdomen, further staining the uniform.
"Great, just great," B'Elanna complained, an edge of frustration darkening her voice. "Now I have to go back up to my quarters and see if I have a clean, intact uniform left!"
"After you," Tom indicated the Jeffries tube access door with a gallant wave of the arm.
"No," she forestalled, walking back into the turbolift, "I've completed interim repairs on the turbolift. It should work fine now until we get a new command interface replicated, tested and installed." Tom accompanied her into the confined space, both automatically turning around to face forwards.
"Torres to Main Engineering," B'Elanna hailed briskly.
"Restore power to the turbolift," Voyager's chief engineer ordered. She and Tom both felt the slight hum the signaled power flowing into the lift's main systems.
B'Elanna smiled in satisfaction. "Deck four," she ordered. But before more than a moment passed, the smooth rise of the turbolift turned into a terrifying lurch. A bright, electric glow pervaded the roof of the cabin and the pair instinctively ducked to the floor as sparks arced dangerously close to their heads. In an instant, they were plunged into darkness as safeties cut power to the lift's systems.
Crouched on the floor in the dark, half-covering B'Elanna with his body, Tom waited for further disaster. But the rooftop systems were safely silenced, and the mechanical emergency brakes held the cabin securely, if inaccessibly, between decks four and five. Underneath him, Tom felt B'Elanna shift impatiently. She freed a hand to tap her combadge.
"Torres to Engineering," she rapped out.
"What the hell happened here? I just finished repairs on the turbolift and then the whole system was knocked out by some sort of power surge!"
Joe Carey's calm voice replied, "Lieutenant, I'm not sure what happened, but it looks like the turbolift systems sustained more damage in the Hirogen attack than we'd first suspected. The sensors recorded a spike in the shaft's subprocessor buffer between Decks Four and Five that coincided with the turbolift failure. Looks like you'll have to do some more repairs."
B'Elanna groaned. "I can't, Joe. Tom and I were riding in the turbolift when the system crashed. You're going to have to beam us out."
"Sorry, chief, no can do. The power's down on the internal sensors while we getting the wiring repaired, remember? No sensors, no internal transports."
"Damn, that's right! Well, can you hurry and get us out of here? With the power outage in the turbolift, we don't have even emergency lights and I left my tools on Deck Five."
Tom chimed in helpfully, "I do have my medical tricorder."
Even in the dark, he could feel B'Elanna's ire. Barely controlled anger tinged her for-the-record response, "Thank you very much, Lieutenant Paris, but I don't think that'll be much help."
Joe Carey interrupted before they could indulge in a full-scale argument. "Well, there's nothing for it but to send a repair crew up through the Jeffries Tubes. That'll take a while. Then we'll have to coordinate at the bridge to isolate the turbolift controls, engage in a partial powerup and begin repairs. It's going to take some time."
B'Elanna's tired sigh was answer enough for Tom. He shifted himself so that he was sitting beside her on the floor of the darkened compartment. "That's okay, Joe," he acknowledged for her. "B'Elanna and I will catch a little shut-eye while you guys do the climbing."
They both could hear the amused tone in Joe Carey's acknowledgement. Then silence fell.
"So," Tom asked as he carefully worked his arm around her shoulders, "want a bedtime story?"
"Urgh!" was B'Elanna's immediate reply. Tom could feel the tension in her upper body. "I don't have time to be in here. There's all this work to do and here I go, making more by screwing up the repairs on the turbolift!"
"Hey, didn't you hear Joe?" he chided as he tried to massage a little of the tightness out of her shoulders and neck. "He said it was a power spike. There probably was a failure further down the line, nothing you could have found while working on the command interface."
"Hah," was B'Elanna's contemptuous retort, "that's what you say. But I'm the Chief of Engineering. I'm supposed to figure these things out!"
"Nobody's perfect, Torres," Tom soothed as he continued to rub and caress the back of her neck, "not even me." Even though the lift was dark, his smile was evident in his voice. Some of Tom's humour must have reached B'Elanna, for she began to relax and lean into Tom's hold. The warmth of her body was palpable. Tom found his mind automatically assessing the differences in metabolic rates due to her half-Klingon physiology before he damped down the medical stream-of-consciousness. Tom chuckled.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, just found myself automatically thinking like I was in sickbay. If only the doctor could see me now!"
B'Elanna straightened a bit more in his grasp. "You mean in the dark, on the floor with me and one of us injured?"
"No! Though that's certainly what he expects of us, isn't it?" Tom concluded in mock sorrow. "And I didn't even do anything, this time."
B'Elanna's hand found its way to his chest. "We could change that," she suggested huskily. A warm, feminine leg insinuated itself over his thigh and between his legs. Suddenly, Tom found himself prone on the turbolift floor, held there as much by his own acquiescence as B'Elanna's maneuvers.
"Whatever do you mean, Lieutenant?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "Are you implying that we might engage in some non-regulation behavior?"
The kisses B'Elanna was trailing along his jawbone to his left earlobe were somewhat distracting. Despite his exhaustion, Tom experienced a sensual jolt as her teeth gently bit down on the lobe. Delicately, B'Elanna tugged on the lobe, a muted growl accompanying her action. Her teeth closed on the tender flesh and a spark of pain, mingled with pleasure, rushed along his nerves. He struggled to continue his banter. "What would the Captain say?"
"Who's going to tell her?" B'Elanna retorted as she rose slightly above Tom. The warmth of her breath came close to his lips as she continued, "the repair crew's going to take at least half an hour to get up to Deck Four and start repairs. They won't be able to tell. I won't tell. Are you saying you'll tell? Or are you too tired for this?" As she ended her speech, B'Elanna's lips lay against Tom's own. No longer able or willing to feign reluctance, Tom opened his lips to capture hers in a thorough kiss. Rocking his pulsing erection against her hips, he let his body give the assurance his words could not.
Tom felt the satisfied curve of B'Elanna's lips as she met his kiss with equal passion. She lowered her torso against his own, her curves and weight a further excitement. Tom reached up to push aside the drape of her smock. His lover accommodatingly shifted her shoulders to ease the garment's removal. As she hurriedly flung that aside, her own hands working at his uniform jacket, Tom was loosening her own. They separated somewhat to hasten disrobing.
The darkness of the small compartment was total. Even though B'Elanna's face was mere inches away, Tom couldn't make out her features. But his memory and his other senses aided his fingers in reconstructing the scene above him. He savoured the musky undertone to B'Elanna's citrus-tinged scent, rising above the acid, scorched taste of the air that drifted past the burned-out controls. In the unaccustomed silence of the lift, he clearly heard the whisper of her hair as she shifted her body upright over his own. The harsh rhythm of her breath slowed as she deepened her sensual spell.
The impressions became more and more detailed as his mind drifted into the web of their lovemaking. B'Elanna, arching back, her pelvis possessively rocking over his increasingly constrained penis. Her lips pursing then relaxing as his thumbs circled her nipples in slow strokes. He felt her warm capable hands settle on his chest, lifting the hem of his gray turtleneck. She curled her fingers into his chest hair, pulling gently and kneading erotically. Impatiently, she pushed his shirt higher, tugging at the material. Tom struggled to rise and remove the garment before B'Elanna tore it in her haste. He'd had enough uniforms ruined that way!
While he sat on the turbolift floor, tugging at his black boots, B'Elanna crouched beside him. A whisper of cloth and two soft "clunks" signaled the discard of her black pants and boots. Naked, she knelt at Tom's shoulder. He flinched as her tongue traced a line from his shoulder to nape of his neck, dropping a boot through nerveless fingers. The tongue returned, licking a path from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, while B'Elanna's hands crept around to encircle his waist. One hand reached inside the waistband to measure the length of his erection with feathering strokes. Another joined the first, pushing Tom's pants down and freeing his engorged penis.
"B'Elanna, if you don't stop, I'm gonna explode right here," Tom choked. B'Elanna's only answer was to graze the edge of her teeth along the length of his spinal column while her hands continued their explorations. Kneeling, B'Elanna embraced Tom from behind, her breast crushed against his back, her teeth marking the line of his shoulders, her inner thighs flexing and relaxing against his hipbones. Almost unable to think, Tom managed to work his pants down around his ankles. B'Elanna's grip loosened as he twisted his body around to capture her lips in a powerful kiss.
Entwined, they rocked back against the floor, B'Elanna's head twisting to one side to avoid the wall of their small compartment. "Oww," she complained as her neck twisted awkwardly. Tom shifted his weight back on his knees, allowing B'Elanna to slide away from the wall, further underneath his long length. Then he lowered his torso to rub against hers, his shaft pressing at her pelvic mound. Mouth open for his kiss, B'Elanna groaned with sexual longing. Her hands locked around his neck, deepening their kiss while her legs arched over his own. She used the surprising strength of the thighs to throw Tom off balance, rolling him onto his back.
Her heard her pleased growl, before she closed the distance between their upper bodies for a sharp nip on his cheek. Kisses followed, easing the brief pain as they trailed down his torso. B'Elanna stopped for a leisurely inspection of his nipples, combing one hand through his chest hair as she licked and teased his nipples into erection. Then her mouth continued its erotic exploration, across his abdomen and down to his penis. Her tongue traced a wet trail from base to tip, then, B'Elanna crouching between his legs, she repeated her actions from the underside. Involuntarily, Tom's hips arched off the floor and he struggled to maintain some sort of control. "B'Elanna!" he huskily warned. His lover continued her torment. Her right hand gently cupped and rolled his testicles while her mouth tasted and tested his readiness. The warm pants of her breath accentuated Tom's arousal and as she took his penis into her mouth, sucking strongly, he could no longer control himself. He came with a hoarse shout and a convulsive jerk of his body.
In the unnerving silence of the dead turbolift, B'Elanna's husky laugh of satisfaction was all that Tom heard, despite the racing beat of his heart and the harsh rasp of his own breath. As he lay, shattered and spent, he felt her slim, warm body mold itself along and over the length of his torso. Small but strong hands lay crossed over his sternum and he felt the added pressure of B'Elanna's chin molding them to his chest. A chuckle stirred her body.
"What's so funny?" Tom asked.
"I finally got to check out your tools," B'Elanna answered.
Tom smiled. "Did they check out okay?"
"I'd say that they were in great condition and perfect for some work I have in mind."
"Oh, what kind of work?" Tom bantered back.
B'Elanna inched her head up to Tom's. "Well, there's a certain engineering problem I've been having. . . ." The half-Klingon's voice trailed off suggestively. Her warm breath tickled the hair near his ears and he raised an arm to smooth along the length of her back.
B'Elanna squirmed away from his hand, nudging her leg against his flaccid penis. Tom felt a stirring as her body moved across his own. B'Elanna felt it, too. Tom heard it in her knowing laugh as she lowered her lips to his, stealing a kiss.
He brought his other arm up to secure their embrace, opening his mouth to stroke at hers with his tongue. Sweeping inside with strong strokes, his tongue twined against hers. Tom broke their kiss only to roll his lover over onto her back. Now it was his turn to laugh as he felt her body respond to his caresses. B'Elanna gasped as his tongue traced a slow line up and down the side of her neck. Tom's teeth delicately nibbled at the edge of her jaw. She felt her blood burn as his teeth playfully scraped her cheek.
Unconsciously, she rocked her hips closer to his, but Tom's lankier form arched tantalizingly out of reach. "Toooom," she moaned longingly. Her arms edged around his back, demandingly pulling him into a deeper embrace. B'Elanna's smooth thighs cradled Tom's pelvis, inviting his penetration, but still Tom waited. He turned his attention to B'Elanna's breasts, moistening the nipples with his tongue before drawing each into his mouth.
"Tom," B'Elanna managed to choke out, "either do something now or I'll break every bone in your body!" Her hand reached between their sweat-beaded bodies to grasp his penis, drawing it towards her moistly eager crevice. Whether it was the threat or the enticement, Tom complied with B'Elanna's demand and joined their bodies with a forceful thrust. United, they rocked in a quickening rhythm. The utter darkness swept away any sense of time or place and the two lovers' gasps were the only sounds to be heard until B'Elanna's coming climax forced a series of guttural shouts from her lips. As spasms rocked her body, Tom, too, lost his control and slammed into her with a final shout. "God, B'Elanna!"
Pants gave way to normal breathing as the two lovers remained coupled. As Tom's heartbeat slowed, awareness returned and he moved to lift his weight from B'Elanna's smaller form.
"No, Tom, stay a bit," B'Elanna murmured sleepily.
"Bee, I'd love to but we _are_ in turbolift," Tom reminded.
B'Elanna bucked Tom off with a sudden jerk and sat up abruptly. "Migod, the repair crew should be here any minute and we're sitting here without any clothes on!" Frantically, she began to search the floor of the turbolift for their discarded uniforms. "What I wouldn't give for some light!"
Tom's fingers swept the smooth surface of his tricorder. He lifted the instrument, thumbing its controls so a faint glow lit the display. "Hey, the tricorder should have something that can help us. There's a small light available in the field diagnostic mode." His finger tapped the appropriate control and a narrow but powerful beam of light emerged from the tricorder.
B'Elanna grabbed the instrument and turned the light to the pile of garments she'd accumulated. "Red, that's yours, Tom. Here's my smock. Now whose pants are these? Must be mine!" Dressing took only a few minutes, although B'Elann grumbled about trying to restore some order to her hair. Tom used his hands to smooth her hair into its normal style. Dressed and presentable, the two stared at each other illuminated in the light of the tricorder. "Now what?" asked Tom.
B'Elanna looked around angrily. "After all our rushing you'd think they'd be here by now!" But before she could speak anymore, her combadge chirped, and Lt. Carey's cheerful voice hailed Voyager's Chief Engineer.
"Joe, what took you guys so long?" B'Elanna demanded.
"Well, when he was climbing up through the Jeffries Tubes, Ensign Vorik dropped one of the replacement subprocessors and I had to send him back to Main Engineering to fabricate a new one. I also noticed some related damage in the shaft at deck nine, so we stopped and did some repairs there. I tried hailing you earlier but you weren't responding."
Embarrassment tinged B'Elanna's voice. "Yeah, well, I guess we fell asleep here."
Tom chimed in before B'Elanna's transparent lies could be questioned. "The important question, Joe, is how soon are you going to get us out? I've got another duty shift on the bridge starting at 0800!"
"You and everyone else, Lieutenant Paris. The gamma shift's been buzzing about the turbolift being out of service all this time. But it looks like we've got the new units installed and checked out. I'm going to signal the bridge to restore internal power to this section and then bring the lift up to Deck Four. Should have you out in a jiffy."
Standing there in the darkened turbolift, the pair waited for just a few seconds after Joe Carey finished speaking and then with a familiar hum, lights flooded the turbolift compartment. Both blinked in the sudden brightness, then lurched as the chamber began to move, rising steadily the few remaining metres to the next Deck. The doors smoothly opened to reveal Joe and two other engineers, standing just outside the doors. A profusion of instruments and parts lay strewn in the corridor.
"Good to see you, Lieutenants," Joe Carey greeted. "Sorry about the inconvenience." Ensign Geria Sakulla took some readings from a large engineering diagnostic unit while Ensign Vorik continued to pack away tools and supplies.
Tom waved airily as he exited the turbolift a step behind B'Elanna. "No problem, Joe. But I've really got to get back to my quarters and catch a little shuteye before I'm due on the bridge."
B'Elanna indicated her torn and stained smock. "And I'd better change this. Can you guys finish up here and then join me back in engineering? I'll need your data for the end-of-shift report for Commander Chakotay." As she followed Tom down the corridor, Ensign Vorik's eyes were caught by something inside the turbolift. He stepped into the compartment and picked up two gray, crumpled uniform undershirts. "Lieutenant Carey, it appears that Lieutenant Torres and Lieutenant Paris left these behind. Should I follow and return them? I fail to understand why they should have removed these garments and forgotten to retrieve them." The young Vulcan eyed the garments with puzzlement, unable to assure himself of the proper protocol for this situation. His relations with his superior and the helmsman had never been easy since . . . the young Vulcan refused to recall any more of that embarrassing situation at Sakari IV. Nevertheless, certainly they should be grateful to have their uniform garments returned. Vorik's eyebrows arched in surprise as Lieutenant Carey snatched the clothing out of his hand, stuffing it into an engineering pouch. "No need, Ensign. We've got enough work to do, certifying the turbolift for full use. I'll pass them on to the Lieutenants later." Ensign Sakulla stifled a smile at her superior's quick recovery. It was easy for the human engineers to deduce what had gone on in the turbolift. And Vulcans thought they were so perceptive. . . .