The BLTS Archive - Un series #2: Unbelievable by Kiff (Kiff47@yahoo.com) --- Disclaimer: Paramount is God. I am not. I make no money from this. Promise. Archiving: Okay for my web page, ASCEM, BLTS. Anyone else, please ask first. Feedback: Anything except flames are welcome. If you wish to send it privately, e-mail me. --- I don't know what's gotten into me lately. Wait. That's the problem. *Nothing* has. What I need is a good fuck. I don't even care which end I get it in. If I jerk off much more, I'll end up with repetitive motion disorder, or whatever the Doctor calls it, in my wrist. I haven't been laid in almost two years, or at least that's what my notes tell me. I think her name was Kellin. Whoever she was, I bet she didn't look anything like Tom Paris. I can pretty much guarantee that *he's* got something bigger in his pants. Like right now. Look at him. Guy can almost read my mind. No laughing, Chakotay. Not in the middle of the staff meeting. But I can't stop a quirky little smile from landing on my face. On my left, B'Elanna is droning on about some modifications she wants to make to the Delta Flyer. That ship is Tom's baby, and he's not even hearing a word his ex is saying. I know it. I recognize another raging libido in the room. If I can start thinking with my big head instead of my little one, I'll remember that Tom Paris is irresponsible, disrespectful, and a good ten years younger than I am. He's a damn good pilot, but he ignores protocol, and he's got a big mouth. Hmmmm...I consider *that* implication for a moment. "Mr. Paris?" That's Kathryn. Tom is flustered. Damn, blonds get *so* red when they're embarrassed. My heart speeds up a little in sympathy. "Uh, what was that, Captain?" "The modifications B'Elanna was outlining for us. How do you think they'll work?" He's squirming in his chair, glancing nervously at Seven next to him. As if a Borg would understand. "Captain, I apologize. I wasn't listening." Kathryn isn't pleased. "Well, I don't think we have time to go into this any further. B'Elanna will just have to brief you later on." Torres glares at Tom. Nothing new. Even when they were together, she frequently looked as though she was ready to carve him up into targ meat. I decide to interject here. "Captain, if I may..." She nods, gesturing with her left hand. "Commander." "As defacto ship's counselor, and acting on the advice of Mr. Neelix..." I pause and nod in his direction. "I recommend that we go to a reduced staffing pattern for the time being. I'm noting some increased tension among the crew, and I think some downtime is in order. Perhaps some R&R on the holodeck will help." "I have no objection," said the captain. "Work up a revised duty roster and bring it to me by the end of the day." Do I have an ulterior motive here? Of course, but I'm also speaking the truth. We haven't been able to take shore leave in months, and people are getting bored. Let the ship take care of itself for awhile. I glance at Tom again, and he looks like he's about to be sick. But he doesn't need a doctor. Far from it. "Any other business?" asks Kathryn. There is none, so she dismisses us, with another curious stare at Tom, who is very reluctant to leave his seat. A dead give-away. Again, I'm trying very hard not to laugh. He should jerk off like I do. It takes away the edge. As Harry Kim passes by, he says something to Tom. Paris almost takes his head off. I'm enjoying the show, so I sit for a minute and pretend to pick up my reports. Tom stares uneasily about him, trying to avoid my eyes. Then he gets up, slowly. I can't help it. I look at the front of his pants. Well, he's got more self-control than I thought. He leaves, almost hugging the wall as he scoots out of the room. But I do get a nice peek at his ass. Talk about violating protocol. Kathryn would skin me alive if she could read my thoughts right now. A commander and an ensign? But no one else would need to know. And we'd get what we wanted. Okay. I'd better leave, or I'll have a hard problem of my own to solve. Is Paris burning? I know I am. --- The End