Pilot: One who guides or directs a course of action for others.
Pilot Light: A small jet of gas that is kept burning in order to ignite a gas burner, as in a stove.
Voyager Pilot(light): Tom Paris.
B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer of the Federation Starship Voyager, should have been exhausted and in need of nothing more than tumbling into bed and sleeping for at least twelve hours. After the harrowing day of a damaged ship under attack and a Captain who had demanded one hundred and twenty percent out of her Engineering crew, B'Elanna would have been more than justified in telling the man who waited in her quarters that she needed a night alone.
That man, however, had known just the right thing to say when he had commed her in Engineering.
"The pilot light's burning."
His voice, low and soft, sizzled across her raw nerves, washing away her weariness. In her mind's eye, she could see the familiar blue eyes -- eyes that still astonished her every time they gazed at her with love, affection, need and a plethora of other emotions. Emotions that she kindled in him. He, in turn, made her feel special without suffocating her. And at times like these, he could ignite a need in her just by the sound of his voice, the touch of a hand, a single heated look.
She needed him. Needed him to guide her through the rest of the night. Needed his touch. His closeness. Craved for him to have her writhing in ecstasy, straining for his every touch. She was in need of a little wildness tonight to wash away the day's misfortunes.
Stepping into her quarters, her eyes met his. He stood, clothed only in a towel, hair still damp from a recent shower. She smiled at him. He smiled back. Her smile widened to a grin. A familiar cocky grin replied. He always understood. She didn't even have to speak. He knew what her day had been like. Knew what she needed. And he was here to provide it.
He sauntered toward her and she wondered what was holding up the towel hanging loosely around his hips. Reaching her, he cupped her face between his limber pilot's hands. His thumbs gently roved over her face, marking her with his touch. Then his fingers were roaming through her hair, his fingertips massaging her scalp. She sighed in pleasure as her head fell back into his touch. He leaned in, as she had known he would, and kissed a trail across her exposed throat.
She moaned her disappointment when he backed off and put some space between them. Disappointment didn't linger for long, however. He moved around behind her, pressing his body to hers as his hands undid the fasteners at the front of her uniform and slowly slipped her clothing off, piece by piece, until she stood nude.
Taking her hand, he led her to the bathroom. She watched, licking her lips in anticipation when his towel was whipped off his hips and cast carelessly on the nearby counter. She hungrily eyed his butt, luring her in when he leaned forward to program the shower.
Taking her by the hand once more, he led her under the warm spray of the shower. Bath sponge in hand, he joined her. She sighed contentedly when the hand-sized sponge drifted over her breasts. She shivered when the sponge ventured over her stomach. And a shudder shook her when the sponge ever so briefly caressed between her legs.
Once she was rinsed off, he pulled her back against him as the hot air quickly dried them. She could feel the intensity of his own desire throbbing at her backside. He turned the drier off early, leaving them both still slightly damp.
B'Elanna, feeling drained as a powerless conduit, allowed Tom to lead her by the hand to the bed. She didn't even let out a mild protest when he unexpectedly swung her up in his arms and then gently lay her on the bed. Usually, she frowned upon such silly he-man type maneuvers. But on this night, it felt good. Felt good to be pampered. Only she wasn't in the mood for gentle pampering. She needed a good ravishing. And Tom Paris was just the man for the job.
Giving him an inviting smile, she rolled on her side and patted the space beside her. "Come light my engine, helmboy."
He stretched out beside her, a hand caressing her hip. Her eyes closed as her senses honed in on that singular touch that glided from hip to thigh, over her buttock, back to the hip and then moved upward, a thumb briefly flicking at a nipple before the hand gently massaged a shoulder and then traveled down the length of her arm so that his fingers could intertwine with her own. Once that connection was made, he leaned in and kissed her. Not a gentle kiss. A bruising kiss. Lips crushed lips. Tongue lay siege to hers in an attempt to conquer. Their hands, still clasped together, tightened their hold on each other as the battle waged. She met him, thrust for thrust, until she suddenly found herself flat on her back with no memory of how she had gotten there. They were both breathing heavily. He loomed over her, his hands holding her arms above her head.
She flicked her tongue out to lick her swollen lips, not missing the fact that his eyes were following her every movement. Stretching, cat-like, she arched up until her body touched his. His body followed hers back down and he settled comfortably atop her, knowing she loved the feel of his body covering hers.
His hands released their hold on her arms and he slid down her body until his mouth could suck at the sweetness of her breasts. His tongue flicked around the nipples before he fell into a pattern of alternately pulling a nipple into his mouth and then nipping at it with his teeth.
B'Elanna's eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensation. Ever so slowly she pinpointed every location where his body touched hers. When she reached his groin, she realized his erection was situated at her thighs, just below where it would eventually bury itself. Her hands went to the back of his head. She stroked fingers through his hair, across his nape and encouraged him to continue what he was doing. Then she surprised him by opening her thighs, allowing his erection to slide in between them. She quickly clamped her thighs back together, not tight enough to hold him but tight enough to fan the fire already started in his cock.
He groaned against her breast, going limp for a moment. Then his hips began moving, slowly at first then speeding up as his cock slid between her thighs. Her hands rested on his buttocks in a possessive manner as he continued thrusting. He resumed the attack on her nipples until they were tight with arousal.
A warmth spread in the juncture of her legs and the musky smell of sex permeated the room. One of Tom's hands moved between them to rub at her sex. A finger darted in between swollen lips to tease her.
As if orchestrated by unseen forces, her thighs parted, releasing him. In one smooth motion, her legs bent and she brought them up toward her chest and he moved between them to sink, in one deep stroke, into her warmth.
They paused, savoring the joy of the moment. Then Tom challenged the stillness and B'Elanna replied energetically. Their limbs tangled together wildly as they thrust against each other with a need that never seemed to falter, even in times of less frenzied lovemaking. There was at times a desperate need to sink into each other, to become as close to one as they could. The power of their need for each other was both invigorating and terrifying at the same time.
And that need never wavered. It was as steadfast and constant as a reliable pilot light, always ready to be ignited into a full-blown flame at a moment's notice. They had experienced some flickering of the light along the way, but it always returned, sometimes shining even brighter than before.
As B'Elanna slowly came down from the great heights Tom had taken her to, she smiled fondly at the blond head nestled next to her breasts. His legs had tangled with hers and one hand rested possessively on a breast. He was her pilot. Not only did he guide Voyager's course through the unknown Delta Quadrant, he guided her heart through the sometimes labyrinthine corridors of their love. He was her cornerstone.
Drowsing contentedly, she felt him shift against her and his reawakened arousal pressed against her hip. His head had shifted off her chest and rested on the pillow next to her shoulder. She turned into his chest, tucking in underneath his chin, as her hand blindly explored downward until it came in contact with his steadily hardening cock. Fingers fondled him, playing with both cock and the sacs that were pulling up toward his erection.
His hands had moved to her back, tracing sensual patterns there. They moved together again by unspoken mutual consent. She uttered a sound halfway between a purr and a growl before pulling his lips to hers.
"Burn, baby, burn," he mouthed in a nearly silent whisper against her lips.
And she complied.
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