By Morticia

P/others C/P eventually

NC-17 Warning!! This is a dark, dark story. Major Tom angst alert. Rape, violence, BDSM … if you don’t like it, don’t read it …simple ain’t it.

Paramount is God, all good things are Paramount’s. It’s not my fault Paramount want to waste such talent on het stories!


It had been a boring day at the helm. In fact, to tell the truth it had been a boring two weeks. They were flying through a particularly uneventful part of the Delta Quadrant. Seven had smugly reported from Astrometrics that no asteroids; meteors, M-class planets, sentient lifeforms, gaseous anomalies or interesting nebulas would be expected for the next six weeks. Tom was beginning to pray for the appearance of a new DQ nasty alien just to liven things up. He made another completely unnecessary and miniscule course correction and started humming an Irish ditty under his breath, remembering with a grin his drunken antics last night at Fairhaven.

A throat cleared behind him and he could feel dark hostile eyes boring into his shoulder.

"Cut the sound effects, Paris" Chakotay snapped, irritated not so much by the pilot as the fact that Janeway had decided to take the week off, leaving him to fidget in boredom on the bridge.

Tom swiveled in his chair, his blue eyes flashing mischief as a big shit-eating grin spread across his face

"Just entertaining the troops, Commander" he drawled

"I’m not entertained, keep your mind on your job!"

"An amoebae could be flying today, Commander and you wouldn’t notice. There’s NOTHING happening" Tom whined in that voice that drilled through Chakotay and brought out the worst in the usually staid Commander.

"In that case even your limited attention span should be able to cope" Chakotay said, his deceptively quiet voice overlaid with sarcasm.

At Ops, Harry ducked his head to hide a grin. As much as he liked Tom he couldn’t help but feel glee whenever Tom and the Commander locked horns, which seemed to happen even more frequently of late. He wasn’t the naïve young ensign he had been when he first was swept off his feet by Tom’s charismatic charm and he no longer was impressed by Tom’s irreverence to authority. In fact, Chakotay had taken him aside and pointed out how much damage his friendship with Tom was doing to his own career. He had protested that he had the right to choose his own friends but the talk had given him doubts and although he didn’t really want to admit it, he wasn’t that close to Tom anymore. Ever since Tom had been seeing B’Elanna he had not needed Harry’s company except as a whipping boy. Take last night at Fairhaven for example, Tom had spent the evening getting progressively more rowdy and drunk, taking the piss out of Harry’s love life (or lack, more like) just because B’Elanna and Tom had had yet another fight. Besides, the nearest he had come to getting laid in the last few months had been a holograph and he still hadn’t forgiven Tom for turning her into a cow!

"Voyager to Kim! Come in Mr. Kim!"

Harry jumped in guilty confusion to see the Commander’s angry face inches from his own. He staggered in shock against the Ops console

"Sorry Sir…I was…um…lost in thought, Sir. Sorry Sir" he stuttered, a deep blush staining his golden skin.

"It seems that Mr Paris’s bad habits are catching, yet again!"

Chakotay’s eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at Kim and then Paris, then making a decision he swung to Tuvok.

"Mr. Tuvok, since it is so BORING on the bridge today I think it is a good time for training exercises. Ask ensigns Wildman and Bateheart to cover Ops and the Helm for the rest of the shift. "

Tuvok raised one eyebrow in acknowledgement and summoned the replacements without comment. Tom’s relief was plastered across his face until he heard Chakotay’s next words.

"Paris, Kim, report to engineering. The gel packs in Jefferies tubes 10 through 19 need overhauling. That should keep you occupied for the next six hours or so."

"But my shift is over in two hours, Commander" Tom spluttered

"Well it would have been at the Helm, Ensign but now you’re working in engineering. Dismissed!"

Tom swallowed a furious reply, knowing any answer would be an excuse for the Commander to come up with a worse punishment, like manually overhauling the waste disposers. "Bastard" he muttered under his breath as he stormed to the turbo lift. Kim scuttled in after him, avoiding looking at the rest of the bridge crew who were no doubt grinning.

As the doors closed he elbowed Paris viciously in the stomach.

"Ow! what the hell was that for?" Tom yelled, holding his stomach gingerly.

"For just being you, you asshole. Every time you piss him off, I get the blame too. I’m beginning to think that being your friend isn’t worth the price of admission."

For a second, a look of genuine pain flashed in the blue eyes and then was gone so quickly Harry might have imagined it. Paris grinned his cocky, fly-boy grin.

"Oh, come on Har…we’re mates, scourge of the Delta Quadrant, heart breakers extrordinaire…you don’t want to be squeaky clean Harry Kim for ever. Chakotay has the Starfleet rulebook jammed so far up his ass that he walks with a permanent grimace. Who cares what he thinks?"

"I do, I might have to spend the rest of my life on this ship and I want to be respected, maybe get promoted some time" Harry replied quietly. "When we first came aboard everyone warned me that I’d get tarred with the same brush as you, but I didn’t care because being your friend was important to me."

"We’ll it’s important to me too, Har"

"Is it? I only see you when B’Elanna is busy and you are bored. Then you entertain yourself with "let’s take the piss out of Harry".

"But that’s just fun, Harry, I don’t mean it."

"Maybe fun for you but not me. I’m sick of it, I’m sick of being punished when you are out of line and frankly, I’m sick of you!"

For a second Tom Paris went white, as though he had been gut-punched. For that endless second, guilt over whelmed Harry. Every fiber of him wanted to say " I didn’t mean it, I was joking" as his warm heart filled with pity for the suddenly vulnerable face in front of him. He started to apologise but before his mouth opened a shutter seemed to crash down over Tom’s features and an evil smile lit up his face.

"Well." Tom drawled, "that makes it easy to tell you the truth then"

"The truth?" Harry squeaked

"The truth that you’re a pain in the ass, Harry, that you make me sick, you always have, with your sniveling and whining and home-sickness. You’re just a mommy’s boy and always will be. If I wanted a pet I would have gotten a dog, but instead I got you. I only let you hang around ‘cos the comparison shows me at my best. Why do you think I always pull and you don’t? Because with you next to me, I look even better. I should have cut you loose years ago!"

Hurt struck Harry like a physical blow. He had been mad at Tom, sure but he had never dreamt that their friendship had been a lie all along. No, it couldn’t be true. He didn’t believe it.

"Tom, we’ve been friends for years, don’t do this"

"Harry. You were NEVER my friend. I’ve got better taste."

Harry looked at Tom. The classic features were set in a ricktus of scorn. The blue eyes were cold as ice and the indifference that poured at him was impossible to disbelieve. In that second Harry was flooded with an emotion so alien to him that he struggled to identify it. Hate. That was it, he hated Tom Paris with a passion that nearly floored him.

At that second the turbolift opened. Harry looked at Paris for a long moment and then with bare control he spat out" I’ll take Tubes 10-15, the others are yours. I don’t want to see you, speak to you ever again, Ensign."

He spun on his heel and stalked out of the lift, his back stiff with hatred and outrage. Tom looked at his disappearing back with complete indifference until the door closed again. As the door sealed with a whisper and Tom was left alone his muscles began to shake and he collapsed to the floor with a crash. Tears began to stream down his face and he hugged his knees to his chest as sobs began to wrack his slim body. "Harry.." he whispered "Oh, Harry" and then a wail rose in his throat and in the privacy of the empty turbolift he began to howl like an animal in a trap.


"You’re no son of mine!" Owen Paris started to close the door in his face. Tom threw down the bag he was carrying to block the door open and started to cry. The admiral took a step backwards in distaste at his son’s tears, thus inadvertently allowing Tom entrance.

"It was an accident, dad, I didn’t mean it. I need you to forgive me, please!"

"You lied."

"I was confused, scared"

"You’re a coward, a disgrace to the Paris name"

"Dad, please… I’m sorry"

Tom swiped a hand over his face, mingling tears with the mucus streaming from his nose. For a second Owen was reminded of a five-year old Tom, being punished for cutting off his sister’s hair while she slept in a fit of jealousy. He sighed internally as he wondered whether he could have taken any action against Tom then that would have taught him to respect other people. Or had he always been fatally flawed, always destined to act without thought or consideration for other people.

"A sorry excuse of a human being. I wish you had never been born"

"No, Dad don’t say that, you can’t mean that. It was an accident. I know I lied but I didn’t have to tell the truth. No body suspected, I thought they’d respect me for confessing when I didn’t have to."

"Respect you? Respect you for bringing this disgrace to Starfleet? Of course they knew the accident was your fault. Do you think in this day and age we can’t tell why a shuttle crashes. You were cocky, over-confident and arrogant and your so-called friends paid the price. All you had to do was keep your fucking mouth shut!"

"But I felt so guilty, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t look any one in the face"

"So you thought you’d ruin my life too?"

"Ruin your life?"

"Do you have any idea of how hard I’ve worked to get where I am? How hard your grandfather worked to give me this chance? How many generations of Parises have worked to get our family into the top echelons of Starfleet? My political enemies are having a field day. You have brought disgrace on us all. Your mother hasn’t left her room for a week. Your sisters won’t mention your name. You can take your things and leave. There is no place for you here. We’ve lost everything because of you and what do you care? You’ve lost nothing because you never cared about anything or anyone."

"I lost my best friends"

"You KILLED your best friends. And what does that make you? God help anyone who makes the mistake of caring about you, Tom. You’ve broken your mother’s heart, you’ve ruined the lives of everyone you’ve ever touched. I wish you’d died at Caldik Prime, at least I wouldn’t have to feel responsible for all the people you are going to harm in the future."

"I’m never going to harm anyone, Dad, please believe me, I can’t live with what I’ve done. I’ll never hurt anyone again. I promise."

Admiral Owen Paris regarded his weeping son with the dispassionate distaste he normally reserved for bacteria on the slides in his laboratory.

"You’re like a disease, Tom, you can’t help the destruction you cause. I almost pity you but if it were within my power I would put you down like a rabid dog. There’s a flaw in you. Maybe I put it there, maybe I am to blame for what you have become or perhaps you were born that way and no one could have helped you. If your family ever meant anything to you, If you have any conscience at all, go away Tom and disappear, permanently, and if you don’t have enough courage to do the right thing, and frankly I doubt you do, at least don’t make the mistake of letting anyone else care for you. You’ve destroyed enough people."

With that he turned and walked away into the house.

"Dad!" Tom screamed and began to run after him. From no-where two security guards appeared in the hallway and lifting him by the elbows picked Tom up and threw him backwards out of the open front door. His bag was picked up and thrown after him and the door slammed shut.

Tom picked himself up off the driveway, wiping furiously at his tears with dusty hands and his eyes watered more furiously with the added irritation. Almost blinded he staggered to the door and rang the bell, over and over and over but the impenetrable door remained firmly closed against him. He sank to his knees, his right arm still stretched out to ring the chime, like a penitent beggar and he sobbed as his world fell apart as above him the chime rang unanswered, on and on and on until he gradually realised that the chime was the steady bleep of his com-badge .

Tom struggled out of his knotted bedclothes, absently registering that he was huddled at the door to his bathroom. His knees and elbows bruised and aching from an apparent fall out of his bed. Still confused he managed to tap his com-badge:

"Paris, here" he croaked with a voice harsh from crying.

"It is 08.07, Ensign, has your bridge duty become so boring that you can’t even bother to turn up today?" Chakotay’s sarcastic voice drawled.

"Shit, oh shit" Tom gasped as he woke up to the realisation that he was late for duty "I’m sorry, Commander, I overslept, I’ll be there in 5 minutes!"

"Don’t bother, Paris, Ensign Wildman has the helm, Mr. Kim tells me that you have an interest in maintenance. You are now expected in waste recycling at 08.30. Don’t be late." And Chakotay signed off.

"Bastard, bastard, you fucking bastard!" Tom spat as he dressed, uncertain whether he meant Chakotay or Harry, or maybe both.


Eight hours later, Tom decided that he had finally gone to Hell. Mysteriously the maintenance computer had gone off line over night. Crewman Kenneth Dalby had informed him with great relish that Chakotay had determined that for the length of Tom’s shift in Maintenance that rank did not apply and that Tom was to follow Dalby’s instructions to the letter. This consisted of Dalby with his feet up reading a serious of Padds that Tom was sure were lurid novels from Dalby’s occasional chortles whilst Tom was assigned to manually strip all of the blocked conduits.

He didn’t argue , sure that Chakotay had set him up. Besides, he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Dalby. He might outrank him now but they had a history and Tom knew to his cost that Dalby had no respect for him and never would.

Filthy and tired, almost gagging from the stench now reeking from his soiled uniform, Tom had finally finished his shift. He reported to Dalby that he was leaving, unable to resist taunting him that the largest conduit had still to be flushed.

"I guess you’ll just have to do that one yourself" he grinned with malice.

Dalby put down his padd, smirked knowingly and flipped switches on the engineering console. Immediately Tom heard the maintenance computer come on line and the sound of automated flushing roared nearly as loudly as the blood in his brain.

"You fucking bastard" he screamed and launched himself at the grinning crewman.

Calmly Dalby grabbed Tom’s fist as it swung at him and in a lightening move he twisted Tom’s arm behind his back and forced him violently onto the console. Tom’s face smashed into the controls and he was momentarily stunned. Pain flashed in his nose and he felt warm blood running down into his mouth. He tried to struggle up but Dalby forced his arm higher up his back until the agony forced Tom to collapse back onto the console, his lip splitting this time on the switches.

"You stink like the shit you are, Paris" Dalby hissed

"I’ll report you, Dalby, you’ll be in the brig so long you won’t remember what stars look like!" Tom managed to say as his mouth was mashed further into the console.

"I don’t think so, Paris. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for an opportunity to remind you that you are just scum. Janeway doesn’t think you’re her blue eyed boy anymore, Paris, not since the Moneans and anyway she’s got Seven to occupy her now. She knows you for the liar you are. I’ll just say you were mad about having to get your pretty hands dirty and do some real work for a change. She knows what a lazy bastard you are."

"So, okay…you’re right, I won’t report you…let me go, now"

"Oh no, I’ve only just started. You’ve pissed me off and made a mess on my computer. You’ve got to pay the price."

Holding Tom’s arm twisted up with his left hand, Dalby used his right hand to start undoing Tom’s uniform. Realisation hit Tom with a terrified rush of horror. He bucked wildly as he flashed back to the last time Dalby had had him in this position, back in the days when Voyager had first joined with the Tom Paris hating Maquis. His wild thrashing in Dalby’s strong grip forced his weak left shoulder to dislocate. Agony flooded him as Dalby dropped the arm in realisation of Tom’s helplessness and it dangled uselessly, Dalby taking the opportunity of having both hands free to quickly rip Tom’s clothes off.

Dalby forced his legs apart roughly with his own, whilst freeing his own dick which sprang out hungrily, already hard and ready to go.

"No, no, no, no no…." Tom sobbed, lost in agony and remembrance.

"Shut the fuck up, Paris. You’re just a whore, a hole to jerk off in. That’s all you’ve ever been."

With that he aimed at Tom’s tightly clenched ass and dove in, taking him in one hard, dry thrust.

Tom felt his ass tearing as Dalby entered him. The agony was so great that for a moment he couldn’t even feel his shoulder. Then Dalby started thrusting wildly. With each stroke he came almost out and then plunged back in. Tom could feel the edge of the computer console cutting into his own groin, as with each thrust he was pounded into the console. The blood from the tearing lubricated Dalby’s cock so that it slid in and out more freely. His ass was on fire, his shoulder blazed with pain and his own cock was being mercilessly mashed between his thighs and the desk.

"Hey, Paris…it’s like fucking a virgin. So tight. So good. How did a whore like you get his cherry back?" Dalby laughed.

Each of Dalby’s thrusts banged against Tom’s prostate and despite the pain and humiliation he felt his cock responding.

"No, no, no, no " he chanted, as much against his own involuntary arousal as against Dalby’s actions.

His body twisted against his will as he found himself raising his hips to meet Dalby’s attack. He started to whimper with each thrust, and Dalby grabbed him around the hips and started to grind him against himself. Each movement meant Tom’s prostate was stroked from another angle and his body continued to betray him as he responded.

"No…I hate him, I hate this….HE hates me…I don’t want this…this is rape…I can’t be wanting this!"

Tom screamed at himself whilst his body gave the lie to his thoughts and he felt his testicles tightening and then an orgasm ripped through him and he spurted cum onto the console.

Dalby was laughing insanely, "yes, little whore, that’s what you are, you want this don’t you…you need me to ream you … cunt, whore…where’s your pride now?"

Tom was sobbing soundlessly, a hundred previous rapes running through his head, the Maquis, prison ,even at the beginning on Voyager. Yes, Dalby was right. He WAS a whore. Otherwise how could it feel so good to be hurt so badly? Why did all his self-loathing solidify in this moment, when he felt so good to be so badly punished?

Dalby continued humping wildly, each thrust raising Tom’s body up in the air and then slamming him back down. "You wanted this didn’t you, Paris…admit it, you want this…you want me to do this…admit it"

Tom was almost delirious with pain, this good, good pain.

"Yes" he whispered, as he felt his last vestiges of pride disappear.

"Yes what, whore?" Dalby snarled suddenly grabbing Tom’s balls and wrenching them like he would tear them off.

Tom screamed and sobbed "Yes, I want this…I want this…I need this"

"What do you want, Paris…tell me"

"I want you to fuck me…I want you to hurt me"

"Ask nicely, whore…beg me" and he gave Tom’s testicles another vicious twist.

At that moment, behind them and unheard, the door to maintenance opened and B’Elanna walked in. She had gone to the mess-hall after shift and unable to see Tom she went and sat next to Harry who was gazing morosely at the purple glop that was Neelix’s special of the day.

"Hi, Har" B’Elanna said cheerfully, draping a friendly arm over his shoulder "where’s Tom?"

"Do I look like his keeper?" Harry snarled

B’Elanna’s arm dropped and her look of surprise was almost comical. Sweet Harry Kim never spoke to ANYONE like that. Ignoring her instinctive urge to tear his head off his shoulders, B’Elanna swallowed, counted to 10 and said sweetly "Have you two fallen out?"

"Fallen out? Huh…you have to be in to be out!"

"I don’t understand, Harry"

"We can’t not be friends anymore, because apparently we never were friends in the first place. He’s been using me all along…and if I were you I’d look out because he’s probably using you too!"

B’Elanna shook her head, completely lost.

"Harry, just answer this…Where is Tom"

"In waste management…a shit in the shit!"

Deciding that the best way to get to the bottom of this was to talk to Tom she gave Harry a consoling pat on the shoulder and went to maintenance. As the door opened she could see Dalby’s back. He was bent over a sprawled naked body grunting furiously as he fucked the prone figure. She saw long white legs with blood pouring down them in rivulets and saw Dalby grab a shock of red-gold hair so that the face below wailed before being banged down on the desk.

Anger blazed through her, "It’s Tom, Dalby is raping Tom" she told herself in disbelief and sprang forwards only to stop in horrified confusion as she heard Tom’s voice

"Please fuck me, Dalby…I’m begging you …fuck me hard … hurt me….please fuck me, don’t stop, I’m your whore…fuck me now"

If she had not been so angry, so hurt and betrayed she might have heard the broken defeat in Tom’s voice, the pain and confusion that drove him to say the words he had been forced to say so many times in his life just to survive. She might have heard the self-loathing, which he normally hid so well under his fly-boy persona.

But all B’Elanna could hear was the coursing of her own half-Klingon blood that demanded that she tear out the heart of this man she had trusted, that she had loved, that she thought was her friend. Suddenly Harry’s words came back to her and she understood that just as Harry’s friend had never existed, neither had her lover. Any icy calm came over her and she stepped forwards.

"Well, well what a pretty sight this is" she purred dangerously.

At the sound of B’Elanna’s voice Dalby jumped up and out of Tom, his dick suddenly going limp in terror and he felt his balls trying to hide inside his body. "I’m going to die" a voice screamed in his head but he couldn’t form any words. He just looked at the maddened half-Klingon with a mouth that opened and closed like beached fish.

"Get out of here" B’Elanna spat and Dalby gathered his clothes and ran out half-naked before she changed her mind.

In a daze Tom lay across the console. He had gasped in mixed relief and disappointment when Dalby’s dick had slid out of his ass, leaving a ripped puckered hole. His thighs were smeared with blood and shit and Dalby’s semen. B’Elanna looked at the damage with horror and disgust. She could not believe that anyone would voluntarily allow such abuse, let alone welcome it. She knew that she was sometimes violent during sex herself, she had marked Tom with her teeth and hands on numerous occasions and he had never complained despite her guilty apologies but this was different, this was sick. Unless it was the violence Tom wanted, needed, maybe that was why he had pretended to love her, because he got a sick thrill when she lost control.

"B’Elanna. Oh my god, B’Elanna is here" Tom told himself in a panic. "What happened…how did I let this happen…how did I beg Dalby to keep raping me…oh my God, did she hear me call myself his whore?"

With effort, feeling like a knife was sticking in his left shoulder and groaning at the agony in his ass, Tom rolled over to expose his battered face and bruised groin.

"B’Elanna" he croaked "It’s not what you think…I didn’t want to do it"

Snarling her disgust B’Elanna stepped forwards

"And you didn’t enjoy it?"

"No. Of course not. . Look what he did to me!" Tom beseeched.

"Then what’s this?" and B’Elanna’s finger traced a pattern through the cum on his chest, the evidence of his own orgasms.

Tom closed his eyes in despair and then Tom Paris patent self-protection don’t show you care routine #25 kicked in,

"So, okay" he drawled, " you caught me! I never said the relationship was exclusive!" and he gave a broad smirk, only small tics at the corner of his eyes betraying his anguish.

But all B’Elanna saw was the smirk. She hit him so hard and fast that he was lifted off the console and he smashed into the wall, his dislocated shoulder taking the impact. He screamed and crumpled, sobbing in pain. B’Elanna took a step forward before realising that if she hit him again she wouldn’t stop until she killed him and although that wasn’t a bad thing he wasn’t worth her spending the rest of her life in the brig.

"You’re scum, Tom, you’re a no-good bastard and I’ll kill you if you ever come near me again. You fucking pig!" she screamed and then turned on her heel and ran from the room.

Left alone, Tom huddled into a ball of agony.

"Please let me die" he whispered "I just want to die"

He curled into a fetal position in the spreading pool of blood from his nose, mouth and ass, and cried.