The BLTS Archive - Close by JanK (jan.k1@virgin.net) --- Date: April 99 Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just have fun in my mind. Note: Set during/after Think Tank. Purely smut. Written entirely to, and inspired by, The Corrs, "Closer" A truly wonderful song. --- Our lives are so closely intertwined. No escape, no rest. More trouble, more tension. Tension between us. What does it mean? What does he feel? Does he feel the same way as I do? I watch him every day. Hold him every night. Yet am I any closer to understanding this man? He doesn't always see me watching. I watch when he's asleep. Hold him in my arms as he stirs, restless in the never ending spirals of his dreams. Dreams that never give him the rest he needs. I pull him closer, feel the trembling that always starts. Soothe and whisper to him. Caress his face, smooth the furrowed brow. How can a man have so many demons? What does he think of when he sees others? Does he still fear their censure? He doesn't see me. Watching every day. Can we get closer? Will he let me in? Do I have the right to ask? Yet when he holds me and when he runs his hands down my body how much closer can we get? His voice, so soft, so close, sending shivers down my spine with anticipation and desire. His love evident in everything he does. The way he holds me. So tender. Will he ever say those words? I ask him. "What are you thinking?" He looks at me in the half light and smiles. "Of you," he whispers and leans in to kiss me softly. It's enough. Yet he snaps at me. Questions me, argues with me. I hate him! "Let him talk!" he says. I know my eyes are aflame. Know he hasn't even seen. The man infuriates me. The man inflames me. I long to hold him. When he sees me watching him later that day he smiles. He saw, and now I know what he's thinking. He's sure that fireworks are coming tonight. He's right. Since when did he get so close? Under my skin, next to my heart. In my heart? I pass him in the corridor just before we put the Captain's plan into action. He's watching. I don't look away. I would never look away. I store his image in my mind as we prepare to take on the Think Tank. If this doesn't work we have no more options. I know I will be exhausted tonight. So will he. But it won't matter. I need him. Want him. And he knows it. It's late and he's dead on his feet. He is standing in my doorway, a grin on his face and both fingers crossed. I frown. "Pax?" he says as he sidles in, keeping his face to me. I don't look away. What do you see Tom Paris when you see me? What do you want Tom Paris when you come to me? I see what I want. I move to take it. I stop. Stop when his grin widens. Stop as his hands come out to reach for me. His smile is gone. "What do you want?" I whisper. This means so much to me. "You?" he says, unsure now. His blue eyes are dark. No longer bright with happiness, no longer shining with his love. Only showing his confusion, his worry. So easily hurt. Why did I ask such a stupid question? Why destroy such a moment? I have to get it back. That simple love, no questions, no doubts. He is so close now. "Come closer" "What are you thinking?" he asks. Now I frown as he smiles that innocent smile. "Do you really want to know?" He nods. So trusting. He doesn't know. Surely he has no doubts about me. I watch him all the time. Does he know that I watch? "That I am the luckiest person in the whole universe." His smile lights up the room as he picks me up and carries me to the couch. "Me too," he whispers in my hair as he devours my neck. I arch up to him. Forget words. Forget what I'm thinking! He wants to know what I was thinking. I will show him my thoughts. His mouth is moving down and I know that I will have to act fast. I want to watch him. Want to see him. I flip him over onto the floor and my grin is from ear to ear as he lands with a resounding thump. Leaning down I say the words I've wanted to say to him all day. "That's for snapping my head off in the meeting." He grimaces as he rubs where he landed. I flick my head in the direction of the bedroom. "You can make it up to me in there." I leave him. In the darkness I wait. It is only seconds. He is framed by the half light behind him. Tall, perfectly formed. All mine. You want to know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking, 'All mine'. He moves to embrace me, but I hold him at arms length. "I watch you," I say. And his smile is visible in the darkness. "I know." "I'm watching now" He can see me. I am naked, I lay down on the bed, drape myself suggestively. "Watching me?" He has that tone. Now he knows what I want. Now he is sure. I just know he's going to show off. Watch me watching him. Delicious. He takes a moment, standing looking at me. I'm not blind. Even in the darkness I don't have to ask to know what he is thinking of now. He strips. Not quickly. I told you, he knows I'm watching. Knows that I can't look away. His hands caress as the t shirt slides up. I watch as he drops it, his arms held out from his body, his pecs defined, just perfect. His pants are next. He turns slightly. Oh Tom, a good view. Tight. He walks over to me. Slowly. I can feel a shiver. My skin is so sensitive. One touch and I will be his, body and soul. My eyes won't leave him. Devour him. He is teasing. Knowing what I am thinking. Close so close. I can reach out and touch. My hands slip inside the waist band of his boxers. His groan tells me he is as aroused as I am. My hands make light work of the offending garment. I want to watch. "I want to watch." He is surprised. Taken aback. I don't know. "Are you asking me to..?" his voice is shaky. I've never asked this of him. I can't look away. My hand is caressing his balls. I know he is hot for me. I don't need to look to know that. The heat from him is intense. "Watch me," I say. "Don't move. Don't touch." I reach down and touch myself. He makes a small sound, a moan. One hand swirling, rubbing. I lean back. I run my hand across my stomach. So flat. I like the feel of myself. Up over one nipple. Around, small swirls, touching, kneading. Oh the warmth. I arch up, needing more pressure. He is shaking as he stands, watching. I see his hands hovering. Longing to touch. He is so hard. I think of him touching me. Think of that hardness between my legs, rubbing, touching. Oh! Moving, sliding within, filling. Oh! Close so close. I'm watching him as his hands can resist no longer. He is touching himself. Just gently, but as I watch him he grips tighter. Teasing himself with his thumb, rubbing over, gathering the moisture that is there, running it down, over, up, down. I feel the wave come for me. Ride it up. Cresting. Higher and higher, as I watch. Falling, down and down. I reach for him. He is close. Sitting up, I pull him tight, between my legs. My hands on his. Never look away. I want him. Want him now. My eyes meet his and the raw desire, the need that is there, I know is a reflection. He pushes me back, one hand still entwined with mine. His weight is on me. His hardness within me. My eyes locked with his. So perfect. I see you. Everyday. I will never look away. Words. Who needs them? --- The End