The BLTS Archive - Playthings
by Annie M (trekgirl@mushy.freeserve.co.uk)

---

Notes: My intention for this story was simply to write a naughty
little PWP for my own enjoyment as I haven't found many new stories of
this ilk (P/T anyway) this summer.  As is the muse's habit my ultimate
goal was forced to take an unexpected turn.  I hope you enjoy it.

Feel free to send feedback; I always appreciate it.

My thanks to DangerMom for beta reading and for the many much needed
corrections.

Disclaimer: Voyager and its characters belong to Paramount.  Fate is
cruel isn't it?

(c) Annie M--August 27, 2001.

---

She didn't find him in the usual place.

Tom, as was his recent habit, wasn't working on the Delta Flyer. His
final shift in sickbay had ended some time ago, and B'Elanna, all too
aware that he knew she'd probably still be working in Engineering--way
past her own shift--had assumed she'd find him among the innards of
his favourite plaything.

*One of his favourite playthings,* she mused.

Casting a quick look around the quiet shuttle bay, she asked the
computer for her husband's location.

"Lieutenant Paris is in holodeck two," was the computer's response.

"Figures," B'Elanna said aloud, the holodeck being another of the more
notorious Paris playthings.  As she made her way out of the bay
towards the holodeck, B'Elanna speculated about what sort of program
Tom was running, or tweaking, or designing for one of the crew, or for
general public access; he had a long list of programs after all.

---

The privacy lock was on when she got there and B'Elanna hesitated for
a second before using her Chief Engineer's prerogative to enter the
program.  Reinitialising the lockout once she was inside, she scanned
the unfamiliar vista before her.

She found herself in a steel grey enclosure; light grey metal
framework set against a darker grey expanse of panelling, the harsh
white lights all around adding to the sombre design.

B'Elanna surmised that she was in some sort of facility, and from the
dour grey that suffused everything within sight she got the distinct
feeling she was in a Federation designed building.  The walls were
close together, offering less than about a one-meter gap on either
side of her as she walked.  What appeared to be small private
enclosures were set against the wall; the doors to the enclosures were
high, grey and smooth, with what looked like sensor devices running
along the length of the floor and ceiling.

Pausing to take it all in, B'Elanna thought it odd that Tom would
design something so... sterile.

B'Elanna experienced a sense of déjà vu, as if she were walking along
Voyager's corridors for the first time, recalling the anger and unease
with which she'd boarded the vessel along with her Maquis crewmates so
many years ago.  But there was no carpet here--only more grey; the
painful unnatural light; sharp angles-- and much less room.

Spotting what looked like a control terminal at the other end of the
hallway, she quickly made her way towards it, hoping that this
facility wasn't what she was starting to think it was.

As B'Elanna tapped in a few rudimentary commands, her suspicions were
soon confirmed.  She activated a bio-scan, which revealed that there
was only one other occupant here apart from herself; not that she'd
doubted that.  Quickly getting a feel of the computer's protocols, she
hit another series of commands and looked up suddenly as she heard
several mechanisms whir to life. Double-checking the readings on the
panel B'Elanna made her way back up the passage to one of the
enclosures.

---

The high grey door activated as she stood before it, sliding with a
hiss into the wall.  The room, such as it was, was yet another
representation of cold metallic grey; a two meter by three meter box
with a small narrow bed, a single shelf on the opposite wall, a
latrine and a wash basin.  The room's occupant was half lying, half
sitting on the bunk, his back against the wall, a PADD resting against
his chest and he appeared to be--

*God, how could he be...?*

Sleeping soundly.

B'Elanna stole another look around the depressing quarters before
moving to sit, as quietly and as carefully as she could, next to her
sleeping husband.    Squirming uncomfortably as she tried to find a
decent position to accommodate her expanding belly on the edge of the
undersized bunk, B'Elanna realised that Tom's longer frame would never
be able to lie on this bed in any comfort; his legs would be dangling
over the edge, forcing him to sleep, as he was now, reclined against
the wall or he'd have to curl himself up into a foetal ball on his
side.

For several minutes, B'Elanna watched her husband, lover, friend and
mate sleep, pondering why he'd create this place, and why he'd choose
to spend any time here now... sleeping peacefully of all things.  She
felt her mouth quirk despite her misgivings; Mister Predictable Tom
was most certainly not.  She noted the PADD against his chest and
reached for it, carefully balancing herself with one hand pressed flat
against the wall and with one of her legs cocked, ungainly and bent,
as she tried to steady herself on the ball of her left foot.

Her pregnancy was becoming more and more pronounced, and with it she
knew her temper and forbearance were becoming harder to control.
B'Elanna was more than ready to have this child; she was well into her
third trimester and couldn't wait to have full and athletic control of
all her limbs once more, although she also conceded to herself that
her life would change, irrevocably, once the baby came.

Finally and successfully wresting the PADD off Tom's chest, B'Elanna
had a sudden urge to smack him across the legs with it. He'd put her
in this position after all, using his flyboy tactics to romance her
and then knock-her-up.  *He*--the bastard--still went on dangerous
missions and flew Voyager and shuttles at the drop of a hat, and what
was she doing?  Confined to engineering; lighter duty schedules when
the EMH ordered it; coddled by the Captain and Chakotay; continuously
interrogated by Seven and Icheb on each stage of her pregnancy; given
special treatment at meal times in the Mess Hall by Neelix, who
constantly hovered over her fussing about new babies and the joys of
family... B'Elanna paused mid-thought... he used to.

*Damn it!* she cursed within, *Neelix isn't even on board any more and
it's worse trying to put up with that crazy oaf, Chell!*

She didn't need this shit, she just wanted her life back--or
something--just not this perpetual growing and waiting.

B'Elanna sighed heavily, shaking her head to rid herself of that
moment of anger.  She really didn't mind the extra attention, and she
sincerely missed Neelix and his homespun Talaxian wisdom, but
sometimes--

She left the thought unfinished and focused instead on the grey walls,
concentrating her breathing inward, blinking her eyes to clear away
the negative thoughts.  Readjusting herself against Tom's legs she
eventually activated the PADD and began to read:

'Starfleet Medical Training 7.5 -- Postnatal traumas; clinical
depression; parent bonding; mother and baby nutritional needs.'

"Oh, that's just great!" B'Elanna snorted aloud.  She felt Tom stir
against her legs, but she ignored him and scrolled down to the next
group of texts, which she noted were translations from the original
Klingon language.

'Klingon Women--The Warrior Beside You: Understanding your mate;
maintaining a passionate union; pregnancy; intimate pre and postnatal
fulfilment; child rearing; family rituals.'

B'Elanna rolled her eyes and smirked as she read on.  At least her big
jerk of a husband was being thorough in his investigations of her
impending motherhood.  So typical, she thought, always reading
technical manuals.

"What's so funny?"

B'Elanna, momentarily startled, turned to face her sleepy-looking
husband.

"Interesting reading," she said, throwing the PADD lightly so it
landed with a little thud against Tom's chest.  "Where are we?" she
asked after another minute while she watched him rub the sleep from
his eyes and flex his muscles as he stretched to full awareness.

"Huh?" Tom said, still rubbing the kinks out of his neck.

B'Elanna swept out her hand and gestured to their meagre surroundings.

"Oh."  He paused for several moments and scratched his head.
"B'Elanna, how did you get in here?"

Pushing his legs off the side of the bed, B'Elanna shrugged and moved
to sit by Tom's side.  "You don't really need me to answer that do
you?"  Tom bent to rest his arms on his thighs, staring down at his
boot covered feet he shook his head in response.

"So, where are we?" she patiently asked again.

Tom raised his head slowly and looked at his wife.  "I think you
know," he answered quietly.

B'Elanna nodded in agreement; reaching out to him she rubbed the flat
of her palm against his back and shoulders.  Tom exhaled a small groan
and leaned further into her touch.  "Feels good," he murmured.

"Why here, Tom?" B'Elanna couldn't help asking.  "After all this time,
why here... now?  You know they'd never send you back, don't you?"

In the crew's many communications with Starfleet headquarters over the
past several months, Captain Janeway had insistently requested that
any outstanding charges levied against her combined crew should be
viewed as time served on Voyager. Janeway reasoned that should her
crew make it home in the near future, bearing in mind the Dominion war
and the ravaged state that Cardassia still languished in, that the
Federation's former allies-turned-enemies now position-undisclosed
lacked any serious power to protest such a ruling.

Starfleet's bureaucratic chain of command had kept Janeway waiting for
a decision for several weeks, but eventually they'd conceded and had
pledged that her crew, with the exception of the Equinox Five, would
be assured of freedom upon their return. Federation citizenship for
all the former Maquis was an ongoing and more complicated matter.

"Yeah," Tom responded, "I know."  He turned towards B'Elanna fully and
she was surprised to see his usual cocky grin curling at the edges of
his mouth.  Withdrawing her hand from his shoulder, he pulled it into
his lap and laced their fingers together.  "I wasn't trying to see if
I could still hack prison, B'Elanna; you know I hate it."

New Zealand; his Benari ordeal; Aquitiri... thirty days in Voyager's
Brig.

B'Elanna's back instantly shuddered in remembrance, especially of the
last, and she pulled her hand away from Tom's to rub it soothingly
over her taut abdomen in a completely instinctive gesture.

---

Tom sensed the slight tension in her body as she drew her hand from
his.  "Here," he said, getting to his feet.  "Lie back on the bed."

"I'm fine," B'Elanna growled, though she moved back against the warm,
crushed, threadbare linen, allowing Tom to raise her feet and place
them on the thin mattress.

"I'll get those."  Tom moved quickly to re-plump the two sparse
pillows he'd been leaning on.  Once she was settled a little more
comfortably B'Elanna asked:

"Why here, Tom?"

Tom looked down at his wife, her expression was so serious and he
could tell that she was trying hard not to show how concerned she was
for him.  He could certainly understand why spending time in this
place would look pretty strange, and if she were the type-- and thank,
God, she wasn't--she'd have commed the doctor the moment she'd figured
out where they were.

"For a long time, I thought this was where I'd be coming back to, even
after more than a couple of years out here in the Delta Quadrant."
Moving closer to B'Elanna he dropped to one knee and took one of
hands; stroking it gently.  "I was terrified," Tom confessed, dropping
his gaze to their linked fingers.

"But I've been thinking a lot; about us, the baby, our lives together
and the home we have here on Voyager.  Everything that happened...
back there... in the Alpha Quadrant--sometimes it doesn't feel real
anymore."

Tom knew B'Elanna could understand that much, she'd said the same a
few times about her own past with the Maquis.

"Designing this program was a way... hell, B'Elanna, I think it was
just a way for me to say good-bye to all this."

"What do you mean?" B'Elanna asked, her expression one of uncertainty.

"I don't need to chase the demons of my past away anymore. Somewhere
in our crazy journey across the Delta Quadrant, this place stopped
scaring the shit out of me, B'Elanna.  I still have the occasional
nightmare--"

Tom paused as he felt B'Elanna give his hand a supportive squeeze.
He'd inadvertently woken her several times in the past when he'd
abruptly come-to from a bad dream, always claiming that he couldn't
remember what those dreams were about; that they were hazy images too
blurred to decipher.   Too rattled to tell her the real truth; his
fear of losing her and what they had.

"Which is probably just down to too many late night snacks or a bad
batch of leola root or something."  Tom watched B'Elanna's small grin
answer his own. "I wanted to remember that this place was real, but
that it doesn't have any hold over me anymore."

B'Elanna seemed to think about that for a minute.  "You *were*
sleeping like a baby when I got here," she admitted, managing to sound
both impressed and disgusted with Tom's self-therapy in the same tone.

"See, that's my point," Tom went on enthusiastically.  "This place is
just a set of grey on grey walls now.  It's like sitting in some
library reading room, that's how I fell asleep," Tom finished, his
blue eyes alight with his assertion.

B'Elanna looked around once more at the frugal living quarters her
husband--then a complete non-entity to her of course--had been
subjected to.  "I guess that's a good thing," she said, still looking
thoughtful.  "But you know," she added with a small grin, "I'd always
thought that the Federation's penal accommodations were a little more
up-market than this.  How did you ever get a good night's sleep on one
of these things?" she asked, using her free hand to pat the spare
bedding.

"I don't think I could have slept well here if they'd supplied a King
size bed, B'Elanna."

"Good point."

"What made you come looking for me tonight, anyway?" Tom asked,
suddenly curious.  Normally B'Elanna would contact him over the comm
system, not seek him out directly.  "I thought you said you were going
to work late in engineering.  Did you finally get the dilithium matrix
recalibrated?"

B'Elanna's eyes took on a glazed expression for a moment, and it
seemed to Tom that she was genuinely trying to remember why she'd
come.

"Yes, we finally got the matrix recalibrated," she answered, nodding
her head.  "Nicoletti and Gilmore are going to have to watch the
plasma flow regulators all night to be sure we've licked this thing
though."  Smiling broadly at him, she continued, "And what may I ask
is so unusual about me wanting to spend some time with you?"  Still
grinning, B'Elanna used their still joined hands to lightly cuff Tom's
chin.  "I did promise I'd make some time for us, remember?  Not that I
thought for a second that I'd be stuck with you in a prison cell in
New Zealand."

Tom laughed and raised himself off his knees.  B'Elanna instantly
scooted closer to the wall making some space for her husband on the
narrow bunk.  "Well," Tom drew out, draping an arm over his wife's
shoulder to pull her closer.  "You could consider this a conjugal
visit," he teased.

"Oh, sure, Paris," B'Elanna snorted.  "Like we could have any fun on
this..." she struggled to find an adjective, "...oversized toaster!"

"Wanna try?" he breathed seductively against her ear, nipping the
lobe.

"Tom, don't start this," she breathed, turning her head towards him
despite her words for a series of feather light kisses.

It was awkward to caress on the narrow cot in their usual manner, but
Tom's busy fingers set to work; stroking B'Elanna's thighs, her belly
and breasts in a slow but determined manner.

---

B'Elanna had almost forgotten that this had been the reason she'd gone
looking for Tom in the first place.  They hadn't had a lot of personal
time together in recent weeks and she'd found herself having to rebuff
nearly all of Tom's efforts and invitations because her department was
so swamped with work.  And while normally Tom could talk her into
making love with him just about anywhere, she wasn't about to subject
her ungainly body to fooling around in a prison cell, holodeck or no.

"Tom," she moaned, heating up like a slow burning fuse, "not in
here--no time," she gasped as she felt his fingers pinch at her nipple
roughly through her uniform.

"Computer," Tom called out while still applying dexterous pleasure to
his wife's breast, "state allotted time left in this holodeck for
Lieutenant Tom Paris?"

"Remaining time for Lieutenant Tom Paris in holodeck two is
twenty-three minutes."

"Damn.  Computer, has anyone booked holodeck time to begin directly
after Tom Paris?"

"Negative."

"Computer, add another hour to Lieutenant Tom Paris' holodeck time, to
run concurrent to present time allotment, and maintain privacy lock,"
he requested between kisses to B'Elanna's face and neck.

The computer's familiar beep engaged almost immediately. "Confirmed.
One hour has now been added to Lieutenant Tom Paris' current holodeck
allotment, privacy lock to be maintained."

"Now, where were we?" Tom whispered, nipping and licking the small
exposed column of B'Elanna's throat.

"I'm too big," B'Elanna protested, her hand snaking under Tom's
uniform jacket to caress his chest.

"You're perfect," Tom crooned, rubbing a palm over her swollen belly.

B'Elanna could feel herself capitulating--hell she'd already kicked
the barn door down by not protesting Tom's request for extra holodeck
time.  She certainly wanted him... but on a prison cot, and nearly
full term in her pregnancy?

Damn!  His fingers were coaxing her to cry out in little gasps and
moans.  She couldn't stop herself from responding, from helping him to
undress, to expose his body as he was slowly exposing hers.  His
touches were gentle yet pleasantly rough, alternating in their
pressure against her skin, his mouth and tongue seeking hers in one
demanding kiss after another.

B'Elanna's blood thrilled to the feel of his incessant caresses and
she returned them with her own, the satisfying length curling inward
towards Tom's belly exciting her ten-fold.  She nuzzled deeper into
his shoulder, marking him with her teeth, tasting his blood and
growling in desire as her mate's growing erotic scent filled her
nostrils.

Tom bent his head and started to lick and suck at B'Elanna's nipples,
carefully avoiding putting any extra pressure on his wife's abdomen.
He'd worked them into a position where B'Elanna was sitting astride
his nakedly spread thighs.

B'Elanna felt the baby kick once against her abdomen and paused,
catching Tom's attention by tightening her hold on his hair.

"Too rough?" Tom asked in a ragged breath as his head came up to face
her, his eyes a blazing blue of devoted, but distracted passion, his
lips swollen and wet from his ministrations. B'Elanna shook her head
quickly, but placed one of his hands, which had been beguiling her
slick centre, against her taut belly.

"She's kicking."

They paused, both panting with unfulfilled need and want, but waited a
few precious moments before:

"There!"

"I feel it," Tom managed, his voice tinged with awe and pride, but no
sooner had his joy been revealed, his expression became thoughtful and
he frowned.

B'Elanna knew instinctively what her husband was thinking, and from
the way he'd already turned her inside out with pleasure, there was
definitely no going back.

"You know we can't hurt her, Tom, not if we go slow and easy,"
B'Elanna encouraged.  "And I know you've read all the texts on this
stuff," she couldn't help adding with a sly grin, knowing it would get
him back into the mood.

"Slow..." Tom nodded, leaning in to plant a warm kiss along B'Elanna's
throat.  "Easy..." he said, continuing down with another kiss.  "I'll
be..." another kiss, this time to her collarbone.  "Gentle..." and
another, delving lower still. "I..." his lips brushed an erect nipple
and B'Elanna hiccupped a low moan.  "Promise," he said, biting lightly
into her sensitive flesh.

B'Elanna cried out, scoring Tom's shoulders with her nails as she
bucked against him.  "Oh, God.  Now, Tom," she demanded, flexing her
thighs across his, feeling blindly for the instrument that would seal
their joining, lowering herself upon him, her eyes open wide watching
his.  Tom's mouth opened as he used his two hands to steady B'Elanna's
decent, letting her down on him at her own pace.

B'Elanna heard Tom's heady groan of self-restraint blend together with
her own as she settled above him.  Their breathless moans
reverberating around the small cell as B'Elanna flexed and slowly
gyrated herself upon Tom's lap, her distended belly brushing against
his firm middle intensifying her own pleasure.

True to his words, Tom was gentle; burying his head against B'Elanna's
neck, where he licked and kissed at her sweat dampened skin as he
rocked slowly and sensuously under her.

They came together like a rolling tide, gasping and crying out as they
held on to each other through each wave of their ejaculations,
vibrating within and without to the uncontrollable spasms.

---

"Tom?"  B'Elanna reached over and shook her sleeping husband's
shoulder.

They'd finally left the holodeck and had returned to their quarters by
way of a site-to-site transport.  Sleep had claimed them both almost
immediately once settled, but now B'Elanna was fully awake and feeling
very uncomfortable.

"Tom?" she called again, shaking him harder.

"Mmm," came a sleepy reply.

"Tom, wake up."

"What?"  Tom turned over to find that his wife was already sitting up
in their large bed.  "What's wrong?" he questioned groggily.

"It's started, Tom," B'Elanna said between clenched teeth.

"What's started?"

"The contractions, the baby."

Suddenly alert, Tom quickly sat up.  "Are you sure?  B'Elanna, you
said we wouldn't hurt her!"

"We didn't hurt her, you idiot!" B'Elanna snapped back.  "We just...
maybe ... sort of... hurried her along," she finished guiltily, her
voice quickly losing its venom.

"Oh, God."

"We need to get to Sickbay, Tom."

"Right."  Tom was out of bed in a flash, hurrying to find his robe.
He slowed down his pace after settling his robe over his shoulders.
"Wait a minute, B'Elanna, let me get my tricorder, it might be a false
labour.  I was reading that sometimes Klingon women--"

"It's not a false labour, Paris."

"B'Elanna," Tom returned more forcefully, "let me check, it won't take
a minute, all right?"

B'Elanna shrugged an assent and slid back against the pillows.

Tom quickly collected his medical tricorder from the low table near
the foot of their bed.  Returning to B'Elanna's side he detached the
small wand and proceeded to scan his wife.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Do you still feel her moving around?" Tom asked without taking his
eyes off the medical scanner.

His wife shrugged.  "She's calmed down a little bit I suppose, but
that doesn't mean anything."

"Let's give this a few more minutes, okay?"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes and grumbled, "Let me tell you something,
Paris, if you ever want to consider me one of your playthings
again--and you know what I mean, flyboy--you'd better not tell me that
I don't know when I'm about to give birth, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, I'm just the ship's medic, what do I know," he
said sarcastically, glancing up at B'Elanna to annoy her with the
flash of his smug grin.

"Cut the crap, flyboy.  What's on the tricorder?"

"Well, it's what we in the medical world call a Braxton-Hicks," he
answered smugly.

"A what?"

"False labour pains, B'Elanna.  Our little girl's putting us through a
few hoops and being testy," Tom paused to give her a significant look.
"But she's not quite ready to give a command performance just yet."

B'Elanna ignored his dirty look, asking incredulously, "I'm not having
the baby?"

"Not tonight," Tom said, snapping shut the tricorder and moving to
take off his robe.

"Tom, are you sure?"  B'Elanna still hadn't moved, gazing down
quizzically at her stomach as she rubbed at it reassuringly.

"Yes," he said, sliding back into bed with her and dropping a quick
kiss to her brow.

"This is your fault, you know," B'Elanna groused, finally sliding
herself deep under the covers.  "You and your conjugal visits. Well,
mister, there'll be no more playing with this toy, understand?"

Tom sighed heavily and placed his chin on B'Elanna's shoulder. "Aww,
come on, B'Elanna, why would I want lose my favourite plaything, hmm,"
he said trying to charm his mercurial and endlessly fascinating wife
into a better mood.

"Don't try your hackneyed romance ploys with me, Paris.  They won't
work."

Tom smirked and leaned closer to her, so that his lips provocatively
brushed the skin below her ear.  "It's not like I'm your favourite
chew toy or anything, is it?" he whispered, nipping her skin lightly.

"Not funny, Tom, and you can stop drooling all over me too."

Tom heaved a heavy tired sigh, pulling away from the moist spot on
B'Elanna's neck.  He rolled onto his back, but not before pinching her
bottom.

"You do that again and I'll hurt you, Tom."

"Yes, dear."

"Oh, shut up and go back to sleep."

---

The End