The BLTS Archive - Intimate Relations
by Deede (deedej@pacbell.net)

---

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the Star Trek Voyager and its characters,
I just borrowed for a little non-profit geared fun.

Timeline: Follows "Someone to Watch Over Me"

Distribution: Imzadi Everlasting, my site and BLTS can archive it.
Anyone else, please ask.

Notes: This story was more a writing exercise for me than anything
else. In fact, I wasn't even going to post it, but am under strict
orders to post it regardless of my trepidation, so here it is. :-)

Special Thanks: To April for her continuing and adored support, input
and patience, and to Copper, for that much appreciated reassurance and
pat on the back.

---
Chapter One: Deck 9, Section 12
--

Seven's little 'field study' got me thinking about relationships,
particularly my relationship. Not that I'd ever admit to the Borg
princess that she had the capability of inspiring a certain process of
thought within me. After all, she was way out of line with her quote,
unquote 'study' and I'm still pretty peeved at her. However, the way
she was describing Tom and I in her notes was so detached, so
clinical, that I can't help thinking that she got it all wrong, that
she missed the gist of us somehow. . .  the essence. There was no feeling
to her analysis, no depth or motivation, so it hardly seemed like any
of it was real.  The reality is that Tom and I 'feel' more than two
people probably should, but it works for us. It's how we cope with the
little nuances of life.

My mother once told me that human men have the attention span of an
angry targ. Of course this was shortly after my father had left us, so
one would think I wouldn't have put a whole lot of stock in that
poignant yet bitter-as-hell analogy; but I was young, and angry, and
pretty much in agreement at the time. I mean, why wouldn't I be? My
father had left me as well as her. Ditched us both for Kahless knows
what reason and without the common decency of leaving a return
address. So yeah, my views on the opposite sex weren't exactly
enlightened. I wonder what my mother would say if she knew that her
interesting take on motherly wisdom completely screwed me up for years
afterwards. And maybe I never really got unscrewed, although I'm
working on it. Tom is usually more than eager to point out whenever I
revert to using that philosophy. "Uh, B'Elanna? You're doing that
tormented inner child, 'nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I guess
I'll go eat some worms' thing again. Knock it off."

Whoever came up with that annoying little worm song needs to be shoved
out an airlock. It's disgusting. Although I've known klingons who have
eaten worse things so I guess I shouldn't judge. And naturally I can't
let a comment like that pass without a retort of some kind. He may
have a point, and he may even be right, but that doesn't mean I'm not
allowed at least a little pride over it all. After all he's not
exactly in a position to cast aspersions on my upbringing. Tom and I
are a lot alike in more ways than one, and the weird thing is that
we're both completely cognitive of that fact, even if knowing doesn't
make things any easier at times.

"Look who's talking!" I say with a snort. Childish? Probably. Petty?
Definitely. But it felt good in a 'ha, I sure showed you' sort of way.
Tormented inner children can sure be a bitch sometimes. "Between the
two of us, I'm not the only one with the scars of an 'alternative'
childhood."

He turned to look at me then, eyes wide and unwavering, as if he could
stare right into my soul, as cliché as that probably sounds. To cover
my embarrassment at being caught in my act of pure, unadulterated
trivial-mindedness, I let my eyes roam: to his beautiful, naked chest
only half covered by the bed sheet we're sharing, to his chin as it
clenches and unclenches, just marginally, as he contemplates my words.
I love it when he does that. I can't explain why, I just do. For
whatever reason I just find it kind of adorable. It's a little thing,
tiny really, but one among many that keeps me looking. I never tire of
looking at him, indignant or not. Apparently he can never tire of
looking at me either, because he is still doing it, an ironic smile
spreading across his face.

"B'Elanna, 'everybody' had a screwed up childhood, in one way or
another. Whoever claims that they didn't are either lying or living in
a very sad case of denial," he responded with a snort of his own.  The
way he said it was amusing, using this sort of a blasé kind of factual
tone, as if he just pointed to a chair and stated 'this is a chair',
even if the content of what he said was as jaded as hell. He knew it,
and I knew it.

"That's a pretty disturbing thought," I reply with a grin, amused by
his theory despite the sadness of it. In a strange way it was
comforting to hear, as if it made me feel that I wasn't entirely alone
in having a rotten deal as a kid. Although deep down I knew that his
perspective wasn't entirely accurate. "I'm sure there are plenty of
people out there who had the perfect parents, perfect house: a dog, a
cat, a targ and tons of little, happy babies crawling around with
cute, tiny cherub smiles."

He laughed at me then, eyes dancing. I love it when he laughs, his
whole face lights up and he looks. . .  happy. So by association when I
make him laugh, I make him happy. It's heartwarming. When Tom laughs,
the best place to be is in a relationship with him.

"Name one," he challenged, resting his hands under his head as he
turned to flash a daring smile in my direction. I'm never one to back
down from a challenge, it's not in my nature.

"Harry," I state triumphantly, laughing as he suddenly moves to grab
me in his arms and pull me to him, naked flesh against naked flesh. I
love the way Tom feels beneath me, so warm, so firm in all the right
manly places. With Tom I actually feel like a girl, soft and feminine,
and not someone who can take on the whole of Voyager's population,
male or no, which I probably could. I have yet to test that theory.
One more bad day in engineering and it might be a possibility.

"You've got me there," he confesses, tickling me. I don't know what
inspired Tom to guess that I was ticklish but he did. In fact, it
wasn't too long after we had started seeing each other that he found
that out. I'm pretty sure I've ruined the reputations for klingons, or
in this case, half klingons, everywhere with that little bit of
knowledge, but whenever I'm with Tom, I don't care. In our haven life
is good. . .  some of the time.

---

There are times when I wonder how the hell I got here - here being in
a relationship with the beautiful, sharp B'Elanna on one of
Starfleet's most advanced starships. Yet other times when the haunting
memories of my past seem so distant from where I am now that they seem
like another lifetime all together, though I've never truly forgotten,
and undoubtedly never will. One of the lingering side effects to being
'permanently scarred for life' according to B'Elanna, who looks amused
as she says it, as if to say, 'we can't go back and change it so we
might as well accept it as part of the irony that is us'.

Apparently B'Elanna and I aren't the only ones trying to figure
everything out. In fact, no one was really more amused than I was that
Seven picked B'Elanna and I to observe in order to understand 'human
mating behavior'. I mean, I love B'Elanna more than anything, but
we're not exactly the social norm, if there really is such a thing.
After all, not five years ago B'Elanna was an angry, 'I've got
principles to spare' Maquis soldier, and I was the fallen son of an
Admiral dead set on proving that the stigma associated with that
didn't bother me. It's almost shocking when I think of how far we've
come. Hell, it's a miracle that I earned the love of B'Elanna to begin
with, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Who knows what Seven would be writing if she saw B'Elanna and I now,
in her quarters, in bed, after a serious bout of 'intimate relations,'
talking and tickling. . .  With me sitting next to B'Elanna, watching how
the light bounces off of her shiny brown hair, or how her eyes sparkle
whenever they meet mine and how all I can think about is how much I
want to steal a kiss from her. Not that Seven would have been able to
read my mind and decipher my intent towards B'Elanna, but that
knowledge would have probably made her report a lot more interesting
than it actually was.

B'Elanna probably doesn't realize how good she looks right now.
Although she always looks good, but at this moment she's actually
vibrant. It's actually pretty endearing that she can be as attractive
as she is yet so unaware of it. It's also sad. I suppose I'm not one
to talk when it comes to self-esteem issues; we all have them to some
extent. B'Elanna always claims that the two of us, together, would
drive a counselor to drink with just the reiterating of our pasts
alone. She's probably right about that.  But none of that really
matters as I'm sitting here now, watching her talk. Her body and hands
get into the act as if to emphasize her words while her voice rises
and falls depending on the passion she feels for what she is saying.

I love watching her speak. It's just one of those couple quirks you
always hear about but never really experience until you're actually in
a relationship. I always like to tease her that she missed her calling
in the dramatic arts, which never fails to elicit a roll of her eyes,
or sometimes, on bad days, a glare. It's worth it to see her get
worked up. She's amazing when she's angry. Or at least the kind of
angry that is easy to snap her out of.

With B'Elanna there are different stages to angry. There's the hot,
sexy, 'I've got passion to burn', angry - the one where a touch, a
caress, and a soothing sentence or two has her softening in little to
no time. And there's the 'get the hell out of dodge' angry, which I
try not to be the recipient of too often, although that can be fun
too. Or at least the making up part that follows it is.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to stare at people?"
she asks saucily, breaking me out of my reverie. I can tell by her
tone and the humorous twinkle in her eyes that she's not mad, merely
teasing. And damn she's sexy when she's playful.

"Maybe. What are you going to do about it?" I retort, anxious to see
where her good mood will get me. Sitting at the helm all day has left
me with energy to burn, and there is no better way to spend stored up
energy than with B'Elanna. In fact, she takes energy expenditure to a
whole new level.

"Well," she replied seductively, continuing our rouse, "you'll have to
be punished." And I swear I can feel all excess blood within my body
rush to a certain part of my anatomy.

"Tom, are you there?" I hear a voice coming from my combadge on the
nightstand next to the bed chirp, and I can't help but groan.

Now I like Harry. He's a good friend, and a great guy down to the core
of his ever so angelic being, but damn if he doesn't have the worst
timing known to mankind. I have to refrain from sending a glare in the
general direction of his quarters.

Occasionally I experience guilt when it comes to Harry. After all,
aside from B'Elanna, he's my greatest friend on Voyager. And he is
also a close friend of hers, which has made him seem like a third
wheel every once in awhile, especially after B'Elanna and I started
dating. As it is, a lot of my hard-to-come-by spare time I spend with
her, which doesn't leave a lot of time to do the guy pal thing with
him, although we manage.

"Go away, Starfleet, we're busy," I hear B'Elanna call out, and I
can't help but chuckle over her brashness.

"Oh god. You guys are together? Never mind, I don't want to know what
the two of you are up to. Just forget I called," he teases back,
signing off, and for a small insane moment I resent him for intruding
to begin with, but the feeling quickly passes. After all this is
Harry, my best friend, whom probably wants to try out that new Captain
Proton scenario I programmed for the holodeck. I guess we have to make
him allowances that would annoy the hell out of me should anyone else
try it. Which, on Voyager, happens a lot.

I love living on Voyager. I even like the person I've become while
living on Voyager. After all, I get to fly this amazing ship, help the
doc in sickbay, while having the love of a beautiful woman. But there
are times when it gets a bit claustrophobic. And other times when I
can clearly get why maintaining a relationship in Starfleet is hard.
Finding time to spend together, while preserving friendships and
trying to get some degree of personal space does get shaky every once
in awhile, but ultimately it comes down to worth, which B'Elanna
definitely is, no questions asked.

---
Chapter 2: Dancing Barefoot
---

I told Tom earlier that I just wanted to relax by myself tonight. It
was a hectic day, Tom and I have spent nearly every night together
this week, and I'm in one of those moods where I just don't want to be
around people. I don't want to dress up. I don't want to put on
make-up or fix my hair. I don't even want to engage in pleasant
conversation. I just want to stay in my quarters and read, and maybe
later, go to the holodeck and choose a workout program that I may or
may not actually use. After all, I just downloaded a new klingon
romance novel I've been dying to read from the ship's database.

Tom likes to tease me about my choice of literature. He calls it my
'guilty pleasure' and it used to mortify me that he not only had this
little bit of knowledge into my reading habits, but he had actually
caught me reading one once. However, now it doesn't really bother me
that he knows, either because, heaven forbid, we've gotten comfortable
with each other or it's that we've learned how to have fun with it.
I've tried to show him the particular benefits that accompany reading
that sort of thing, and usually he loves it. Hell, he even started
reading one on his own once, claiming that I can't take capital on the
inventiveness to our sex life. Which was probably deserving of a good
smack, but I was too amused at the time to bother.

Still though, since the first time Tom caught me reading one, I can't
read them in a public place like the mess hall. It has to be in my
quarters, alone. Call it this funny little hang up I have. Besides,
it's annoying getting engrossed in something, only to have someone
come up and try to start a conversation. I think the term 'escapist
reading' is lost on some people.

I'm lucky to be with someone who grasps the concept of alone time, in
fact, sometimes he needs it as much as I do. In my experience not many
guys get it, or at least not the one's I've dated in the past. Being
in a relationship is great, and I certainly love Tom profusely, but
there are moments when I just need to detach myself from everything
around me and just contemplate life, alone. Plus, there are just some
things that you can't do in front of others, no matter how much you
love them. I wonder what Tom would say if he knew that I like to walk
around my quarters naked after a shower and play some of that 20th
century jazz music he plays for me occasionally, in between his
attempts to shove this weird music called 'rock and roll' down my
throat, while humming along, and maybe, just maybe moving around to
the beat a little. Yes, klingons can dance. Not frequently but, you
know, they have a reputation to uphold, as do I.

'Alone time' on this ship is a rare commodity. Even time alone with
Tom is hard to arrange. On the first night we got together we were
interrupted by my engineering department, once by the doc asking Tom
if he could cover an extra shift in sickbay, and once by Chakotay, who
wanted to reschedule our weekly hoverball session. By the third call
Tom and I just turned, looked at each other, and then broke into a fit
of laughter. We really had to, otherwise we'd go mad.

It's just one of the things we have had to learn to expect from our
life here. And truthfully, I don't regret it. It can get annoying at
times, sure, but I love my job. It's more than I thought I could do
after dropping out of the academy the way that I did. And being an
engineer is more than just a job, it's part of who I am. A piece of
the 'B'Elanna package', as Tom calls it. Either way, I wouldn't trade
it.  And Tom loves his job as much as I love mine, so I know that he
wouldn't either.

I'm jumpy tonight for some reason.  I half expect to get a call from
someone, somewhere, but all the while I'm still relishing being away
from it all in a paranoid, 'the peace can't last too long because fate
likes to play with me like I'm one of those odd looking earth puppets
with the string things attached to their limbs' kind of way. Of
course, the problem with this particular moment of zen is that I'm
thinking about Tom anyway, which sort of defeats the purpose of my
cutting myself off from the rest of the world for the evening.

Come to think of it a massage doesn't sound too bad at the moment. It
dawns on me that time by myself, on this occasion, isn't really as
appealing as it had seemed on my way home. I wonder where Tom is right
now. . .

---

Sitting alone in the mess hall isn't exactly what I would prefer to be
doing at the moment, but in a pinch, it will do. It's certainly better
than giving B'Elanna grief over not taking advantage of the free time
we have when she's not in the mood for company. Almost two years of
dating and I know better than to crowd her when she doesn't want to be
crowded.

It's funny, I've heard a lot of guys go off on how their girlfriends
cling to them once they get together. They enter their life like a
force of nature and then practically take over from there. Not my
girlfriend. If anything she has this philosophy that, 'yes, we love
each other, and, yes, we enjoy being together, but that doesn't mean
we have to be glued at the hip. We're still individuals, who happen to
be a couple.' And most of the time I appreciate that she feels that
way. Hell, I do too - for the most part. But once in awhile I wish she
was a bit more clingy.

God, what an odd thing to wish for, a shrink really would have a field
day with the two of us.

I see Harry approaching and this time it doesn't bother me in the
slightest. I could actually use the company. What does bother me is
the inquisitive look he is giving me. I know what he is going to ask
before he says it.

"Why are you here by yourself? Are you and B'Elanna fighting again?"
he inquires as he makes himself comfortable, and I can only sigh.

It bothers me that people automatically assume that B'Elanna and I are
fighting whenever we're not together. Not that we don't fight here and
there, or actually, engage in 'heated discussions' as B'Elanna calls
it. But it's certainly not all we do. Our problem is that we are both
strong willed, and both as stubborn as hell, but in a way that works
for us. As Neelix claims, we're both very passionate people, and
neither of us will ever be in danger of becoming boring.

"No, she is just enjoying her 'alone time'," I reply off handedly, and
as natural as I can make it sound.

Harry gets this puzzled look on his face when I say it though, and I
start to wonder if 'alone time' is normal amongst other couples, or if
it's just indigenous to B'Elanna and I because we're both somewhat
screwed in the head.

"Alone time?" Harry asks, his face clearly stating that we are, in
fact, not of the mainstream when it comes to couplehood, at least by
his perspective.

"Yeah, alone time," I explain, for some reason needing him to
understand so he would know that B'Elanna and I aren't fighting. "We
can't always be together. Some things we like to do separate. After
all, we had lives before we got together. Besides, it's healthy to
have a little time to ourselves. It doesn't mean we love each other
any less."

"I thought the idea behind being a couple is that you spend your free
time together," he states logically, clearly bent on the idea. It's on
the tip of my tongue to tell him that his linear views on
relationships are why he has such a hard time maintaining one, but I
don't, because it's mean, and I really don't want to hurt his
feelings. It's just that I sometimes think that Harry lives in a
different world than B'Elanna and I do.

"Well, B'Elanna and I respect each other's individuality," is all I
can respond with, hoping he'll leave it at that.

His chuckle in reply to that puzzles me. . .  until I turn my head to
follow his line of vision, which is on my girlfriend as she strolls in
the door, spots us, and then heads in our direction.

"I guess B'Elanna doesn't need that 'alone time' after all," Harry
retorts teasingly.

"Guess not," I say with a smile, my heart lifting the closer she gets.
It's touching that she gave up her self-proclaimed, 'no one allowed'
break to find me. And just when I was thinking of her. There are
moments when there isn't anything in the universe I wouldn't do for
her. . .  this is one of them.

"I thought you were going to spend the night closed off in your
quarters," I ask as she approaches, curious over why she came, despite
my happiness in seeing her.

"Yeah, but then I thought it might be more fun if I let you give me a
massage instead," she replied with a sassy smile.

Harry laughs at B'Elanna's roundabout means of making a suggestion,
but I recognize her request for what it is. Right now she needs me,
or, at the very least, wants my company. B'Elanna isn't one for
admitting need very easily, at least not blatantly, so she hides it
under blanket statements like that. There are times when it gets
frustrating, but mostly it's kind of charming. It's just a part of who
she is, and I wouldn't want her any other way. I like what we are,
together and separate.

---
Chapter 3: In This Corner, Weighing at. . .
---

Stewing over another infamous 'Tom vs. B'Elanna' argument wasn't
exactly how I envisioned our evening would wind up, but then I wasn't
banking on Tom and I getting into the age-old struggle over our
individualistic tastes: with him wanting to use some elaborate program
on the holodeck and with me wanting nothing more than to lay low. It's
typical really, we've had this argument before and we'll more than
likely have it again, but that doesn't make it any less painful when
it does happen.

I hate fighting with Tom. I'm fully aware that a lot of misinformed
people out there think that klingons, even half ones, get off on it.
But really, I don't. I know we do enough of it that the crew of
Voyager have probably come to the conclusion that it's our own twisted
version of foreplay. In fact, I know they do. Chakotay admitted as
much to me once when he was feeling brave enough to approach the
subject. And I'd be lying if I said that the gossip as far as Tom and
I are concerned doesn't bother me, because it does. I've spent my
whole life fighting my supposed klingon tendencies and blaming my
admittedly short fuse on them by my own right. I don't need other
people doing it for me. It's a case of I can do it, but no one else
can. Logical? No. But then, I'm not Vulcan, so go figure.

If anything, my reaction to our fights, internally, is anything but
the strong pride and willfulness that usually is attributed to
klingons. I hate it. It grates on my nerves, it dominates my thoughts,
in some cases, if the fight is really bad, it even makes me feel kind
of nauseous. Although I'd never admit any of this to Tom.

Yet, through it all, in a small way, I know that we are doing the best
we can. Neither he nor I have really been in a serious relationship
before, so inexperience is definitely a factor, but I think a lot of
it just stems from who we are.

If there is one lesson I learned from my mother it's how to be
self-sufficient, maybe even overtly so. There is a whole lot of trust
involved with being with someone, in allowing them that power to play
with your emotions. Honestly, there are times when I wonder if the
whole relationship business is worth it. Certainly it seems easier not
to have to work at being with someone, but then Tom will smile, or
laugh, tell a joke, or touch me tenderly in passing, and I realize
that the rewards of being with him far outweigh the effort needed to
maintain our relationship.

By nature Tom and I are both prone to push people away. Another
byproduct of that less than stellar childhood we both experienced.
We're just two helpless kids who learned the hard way that survival
means not putting much stock in how people perceive you, because no
matter how much you try to live up to others expectations you just end
up disappointing them and yourself along the way. Yet at the same
time, with Tom, I actually want to be involved in his life, I actually
want to hear what he has to say: to experience him, to be with him.
Simply put, I love him - I fell in love with him. There is no going
back from that.

So here we are, two stubborn, pig-headed, determined, yet jaded
individuals with enough emotional baggage to take a journey on a five
month pleasure cruise, trying to reconcile the fact that we have to
actually learn, and work, and strive to be together. Contrary to
popular belief being in a relationship is not as instinctive to the
nature of mankind as we're mistakenly led to believe, although my
parents should have pounded that lesson home a long time ago. I think
it's something people need to learn for themselves though. Maybe there
is a little optimism in each of us, searching for love, daring to
believe that we deserve to be loved in return.

I once complained to Tuvok during one of our meditation sessions that
I had a hard time figuring out how this whole relationship thing is
supposed to work, especially considering Tom seemed to struggle with
it at times as much as I do. And then the Oh-so-wise-Vulcan-Master, as
Tom calls him, proceeded to ask me a bunch of questions. Do I enjoy
being with Tom? What does Tom bring to the relationship? What do I
bring?

I answered all the questions as best I could and by the end of it
Tuvok simply nodded, looked at me with that disturbingly unaffected
expression of his, and replied, "It appears the benefits of being in a
relationship with Mr. Paris outweigh the disadvantages to your union."

And that was it. No further advice, no follow-up. Just that and a "are
you ready to proceed with our meditation, Lieutenant?"

At the time I think I came up with some sort of retort like. . .  "Thank
you, Mr. States-the-Obvious. I wouldn't be in a relationship if the
good parts didn't outweigh the bad," but in retrospect maybe Tuvok had
been right on both counts. Even when Tom and I fight, as we had done
just a little while ago, our good moments are what really matter. It's
what pulls us through. That and the fact that we love each other: we
make each other laugh, we have a lot of good times together. And maybe
- just maybe now, since I wouldn't want to give Tuvok too much credit
for religious purposes - sometimes the obvious needs to be said.

I need to find Tom.

---

It's peaceful just quietly sitting while holding B'Elanna tightly in
my arms. It feels right somehow, as if, just for that moment,
everything makes sense and life exists exactly as it was meant to. As
abstract as this may sound, I love the fact that B'Elanna and I can
sit in silence comfortably, without the need to make conversation, or
say things just for the sake of filling the stillness.

There's a certain euphoria in coming out of one of our arguments
unscathed, yet hopefully all the wiser. Though, knowing us, probably
not. At any rate, we lived through it. We survived yet another
proverbial bump in the road. I still love her, and she still loves me.

I can't help but be slightly amazed by it all. That B'Elanna:
beautiful, smart as a whip, and extremely passionate B'Elanna - is
mine. There are times when I don't feel good enough for her. And other
times when I wonder how I got so damned lucky at finding someone who
is willing to put up with my mood swings and funny little quirks.
Particular this someone, the woman I loved far before she even loved
me back.

I've told all of this to B'Elanna once or twice and she just looks at
me, rolls her eyes, and claims that if I can put up with her temper,
she can put up with my. . .  'blatant cries for help' I believed she called
it. And then she kisses me, and none of it: not the fights, our
baggage - individually and accumulated, or our independence even
matter in the grand scheme of things.

In B'Elanna's arms I don't feel like the washed up son of an Admiral,
or the previous Starfleet failure, in B'Elanna's arms I feel like the
guy who has earned the trust and love of an incredible woman. So
maybe, somehow, somewhere, there has to be something incredible in me
as well. Or maybe I really am just damned lucky. Either way, it's a
great feeling. And one of the many reasons I don't ever want to let
go.

I'm not delusional enough to believe that B'Elanna and I will never
fight again, or that our relationship will ever be easy. I'm not even
sure I'd want it that way. But if loving B'Elanna has taught me
anything it's that taking the easy way out of things is less
fulfilling, and infinitely rewarding than striving for the best, and
then learning along the way.

I'd take a fight with B'Elanna over living without her any day. I'd
take a moment with her over any other encounter I've had in my life.
So we may get the occasional scrapes and bruises. Who doesn't? Yet we
have each other despite all of that, and that's what I hold sacred.

B'Elanna is smiling, a fact I can feel rather than see because of the
way she is positioned on my lap. I briefly wonder at what point it was
that I got so adept at reading her, but the thought is quickly replace
by the way she is wiggling against my body.

"I know what you are thinking," she claims seductively, her voice a
husky whisper that sends thousands of tiny shivers up my spine.

"Oh, and what's that?" I reply coyly, my heart already racing in
anticipation.

"You're thinking that it's long past time to go to bed," she announces
smugly, repositioning her body to face me as her dark eyes dance with
positively naughty intent.

"You read my mind," I confirm, moving to kiss her with everything that
I'm feeling for her. And I can't help thinking, once again, that all
of this is just right somehow.

---

The End!