How I like my P/T best.
Back in the days when they were full of vim and vigor.

If this is your first visit to ParisTorres Fever, please read
Warnings and Disclaimers

Primal Imperative
Co-written with MaisieRita
Rated: NC17
Posted:  February 2003

Author Notes: It's been a long haul getting this story finished, but we persevered and here we are, with a new P/T fic -- the first for both of us in quite some time.

Sapphire: It was a pleasure co-writing with Maisie. Our creativeness seems to feed off each other, but there were times I wasn't certain we'd survive the final editing process. We've both grown as writers in recent years and the final editing of this fic proved that. I would also like to give credit to Maisie for the idea of spreading pon farr in the manner it was accomplished in this fic. She wanted to 'spread the love', so to speak <g>, and we took her idea and ran with it, ending up with quite a tale. I hope you enjoy it.

Maisie: Ditto to everything she said. *g*  Seriously, we had a heck of a lot of fun writing this fic, and kudos to Sapphire for taking a germ of an idea and encouraging me to run with it. If it weren't for her, this story would never have existed anywhere but my own fevered imagination. Co-writing a story was a long and challenging process, but ultimately a very rewarding one. I hope the end result speaks for itself. :)  Enjoy!

Thanks: Special thanks go to Monica for her constant attempts to keep us in line and moving forward on this fic. She is a powerhouse of inspiration and both positive and constructive feedback. Thank you, Monica. :)

Excerpt: The Doctor's eyes gleamed. "On the cheek! That's even more interesting. According to Klingon custom, a bite on the face means . . ." Suddenly, the Doctor's voice trailed off. "She bit him. Did you see the bite mark, Mr. Neelix?"

Neelix nodded. "Yes. It was very swollen. You could even see the imprint of individual teeth."

"She didn't break the skin?"

Neelix squinted in concentration. "I believe she did. Yes, I'm sure of it. There was blood on Tom's cheek. Why?"

"I'm not sure," the Doctor mused. "It's just a hypothesis really."

"What is?" Janeway asked impatiently.

"Theoretically," the Doctor said slowly, "pon farr could be transmitted through blood and saliva. So if Lieutenant Torres was infected by Ensign Vorik, then, in theory . . ."

"B'Elanna may have infected Tom," Janeway finished, eyes wide. "Oh no."

Plain Text Version (at Maisie's Voyager Fiction): Primal Imperative

Burn, Baby, Burn
Rated: NC17 (due to adult sexual situations)
Posted: June 1999

Author Notes: Just a little PWP.

Excerpt: "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.

Paris Fads
Rated: NC17 (due to adult sexual situations)
Posted: May 1999

Author Notes: Lesa:  Let's see, Tom introduced Yo-Yo's to the crew. . . . What's next, Hula Hoops?

pjs:  Oh my! The visions I get when I think of Tom teaching someone to use a Hula Hoop. His hips twisting and thrusting. Pants pulled tight over his gyrating backside.

Fever:  Wait! He was wearing pants in your vision? :::Fever rewinds her own vision to check::: Nope. No pants . . . just lots of skin . . . and boy, are things a swingin'.

Marianne:  ROTFL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bwahahhahhhaahhahhaa damn! I want that vision too! write it please?

And so, an early birthday present for Marianne. . . .

Excerpt: She watched in open-mouthed amazement for several minutes as the mad gyrations continued. Her burning desire for him increased with each swing of those hips. She wanted him. Badly. Maybe this was a sex toy, after all. Amazing the things this man came up with. Last week's fad had been lava lamps, which she had mistaken at first for some sort of Vulcan meditation lamp. That had sent Tom into a fit of hilarity the likes of which she hadn't seen since Harry had shown up one evening demanding Tom tell him how to get his fingers unstuck from something called a Chinese Finger Trap.

The Flare
Rated: NC17 (due to adult sexual situations)
Posted: January 1998

Author Notes: What can I say? I heard some scientific thingy on the radio one morning about nostril flaring and I was off and running.

Excerpt: "Get out!" B'Elanna yelled.

"Gladly!" Tom returned, marching for the door. He stopped as a datapadd cruised by his head at warp speed and hit the door. Ever so slowly, his anger on a slow burn, he turned to look at B'Elanna. Her hair was a wild tangle. Her eyes were sparking with anger. Her face flushed. She was breathing heavily, causing the gentle swells of her breasts to heave in a way that Tom couldn't help but notice. But that wasn't what caught his attention and turned his anger into something of a more erotic nature.

"Don't do that," he told her.

"What?" she snapped.

"You know. You know how it gets to me."

Home Is Where the Heart Is
Rated: PG
Posted: January 1998

Author Notes: An alternate view of Hunters and getting those messages from home.

Excerpt: Kathryn Janeway looked up from the datapadd when her door chimed. "Come," she called, standing as Tom Paris entered. "Have a seat, Tom," she invited, indicating the couch. She took the chair next to the couch. "I wanted to talk to you privately about the messages everyone received from home today. Everyone but you." She leaned forward to place a hand on his knee. "I'm sorry, Tom."

One Heart
Rated: PG
Posted: November 1997

Author Notes: A bit of an alternate version of Year of Hell.

Excerpt: My voice sounded funny. Kind of strangled sounding, but she heard me. She took a step toward me then hesitated as if unsure. I almost smiled. She never was the type to go running into a man's arms. That was okay. I could do the running. After two months in solitary confinement on the Krenim ship with plenty of time to think and then what followed in the subsequent months on Annorax's ship, I would have followed her anywhere just to be near her.

The Courtship
Rated: NC17 (due to adult language and sexual situations)
Posted: March 1997

Author Notes: Prequel to The Proposal.

Excerpt: "Sandrine, I don't understand women."

"What man does, cheri? Who is she? Who is this woman who troubles you so?"

Tom took a deep breath. Might as well go for broke, he thought. "B'Elanna."

"The fiery-tempered one? I always did say you like them with a little bite, Thomas."

He grinned, rubbing at his cheek once again.

The Proposal
Rated: NC17 (due to adult language and sexual situations)
Posted: February 1997

Author Notes:  Technically, this could be classed as a sequel to The Courtship, except The Courtship was written after The Proposal. So I choose to put it this way:  The Courtship is a prequel to The Proposal. I find it much more interesting and amusing to read them in the order they were written because The Proposal may leave you wondering what the backhistory is that leads to the P/T relationship in The Proposal, and The Courtship fills that backstory in rather nicely.

Excerpt: "Damn you, Tom Paris! I do not give you permission to die on me! We've got too much to do. We have a future! Together! We-we have to get married--"

Cupid's Arrow
Rated: PG
Posted: February 1997

Author Notes:  Had this little Cupid fluttering around who didn't happen to be a very good shot and was getting impatient for some people to get on with THE LUV.

Excerpt: "Did you see where the shot came from?" asked Chakotay as he turned to inspect Paris' injury. He fought back a smile when he saw where the injury had occurred. A tiny arrow, slightly larger than a dart, was firmly entrenched in the right cheek of Paris' rear end. Tom grimaced in pain but didn't appear to be in any immediate danger from the wound.

Rated: NC17 (due to adult language and sexual situations)
Posted: November 1996

Author Notes: Written a few months before Blood Fever aired based on spoilers I had heard. Doesn't every P/T writer have to write a Blood Fever story?

Excerpt: As he turned back to the room, a body slammed into him, pinning him against the wall. Definitely a feminine body, thought Tom as his eyes lifted to meet B'Elanna's, their faces mere inches apart. Her gaze was filled with the untamed promise of Klingon blood fever. Tom swallowed audibly as he considered what he had heard about Klingon blood fever. Carefully he said, "B'Elanna, do you know who I am?"

"Paris," she growled. Before he could discern her intentions, B'Elanna moved forward and Tom felt a sharp sting on his left cheek. She bit me! his inner voice screamed at him.

"Take it easy, B'Elanna. That's no way to--"

She moved in again and Tom couldn't help his involuntary flinch, but she didn't bite him again. Instead, her mouth latched onto his, and Tom's senses began awakening as he became aware of her body pressed so closely to his own. Grasping her around the waist, he pushed forward and twisted around, slamming her, hard, against the wall he had moments before been pinned to. She gasped.


"Yes?" He smiled against her mouth, kissing her deeply, probing with his tongue, tasting a sweetness he had never dared dream would be his.

B'Elanna's hands framed his face, her thumb roving over the bite in his left cheek. "I've caught your scent," she murmured. Placing her thumb to her mouth, she tasted his blood. Her eyes still aflame, she growled softly, "I've tasted your blood."

Tom had heard about Klingon blood fever. Once aroused, it was difficult to quench, unless one satisfied the hunger the fever induced. He felt a stirring in his groin. Evidently, B'Elanna did too. Her hand moved downward to cup him possessively, squeezing slightly and causing Tom to gasp, then moan.

I love those tender P/T moments too!

The P/T Collective

Once upon a time there was an online novice who wandered onto AOL and into a message board devoted to Paris/Torres. The novice lurked, watched while a round robin was started by two individuals there, and -- despite never having shared any of her writings publicly before -- decided to come out of lurking with a fic post adding to the ongoing round robin. Friends were made, many round robins were written and somewhere in all that chaos The P/T Collective was born and I'm very proud to say I was a founding member. Around the time of the fourth story in the series I started doing some solo writing and eventually decided that was the route I wanted to go. I had ideas that were demanding to be told. So I branched out on my own. The stories that appear below are The P/T Collective stories I participated in as a writer. There may be a couple of others I should have here. My memory is failing me as to all the ones I participated in so, erring on the safer side, I've only archived the stories here that I'm certain I have a right to as one of the writers. I'm no longer an online novice but I sure do miss those younger more innocent days of The P/T Collective from time to time. If you'd like to read all their stories, check out The Official P/T Collective Archive.

Cracks in the Wall Series:
Cracks in the Wall
Rated: PG
Posted: 1996

Author Notes: Written in a round robin forum. We've got Borg -- or are they -- and a P/T relationship trying to blossom out of a difficult situation.

Excerpt: "Commander!" Paris yelled, alerting Chakotay. Paris leapt forward, grasping the Borg's arm in an attempt to break its grip on B'Elanna. He was frightened to see that B'Elanna's face was turning an alarming shade of red. He redoubled his efforts to break the Borg's hold. Chakotay joined him as B'Elanna lapsed into unconsciousness. Still the Borg did not release her.

As the situation became desperate, the Borg suddenly released B'Elanna. Her unconscious form crumpled to the deck. Paris, turning his attention to her, did not see the Borg's arm swinging in his direction.

"Paris, watch out!" Chakotay warned.

Clear as Mud
Rated: PG
Posted: 1996

Author Notes: Written in a round robin forum. Our intrepid Voyager crew has a Murphy's Law day. None of them, including Tom and B'Elanna, may ever see each other in quite the same light again. And if that wasn't enough, Tom and B'Elanna are still coping with the aftereffects of getting intimate with the Borg.

Excerpt: Tom wisely closed his mouth and approached her. He held out a hand. "Here, let me give you a hand out of there." B'Elanna seized his hand and before he knew what was happening, Paris was face first in the mudhole beside her. He sat up, sputtering.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded.

Torres shrugged. "You were too clean?" Getting to her feet, she extended a hand. Paris grasped it and let her pull him to his feet. They all stood staring at one another. Mud clung to their uniforms and dripped from their hair.

Test of Faith
Rated: PG
Posted: 1996

Author Notes: Written in a round robin forum. Oh, come on! Who could resist writing a story where the natives think Tom is their Sun God come home? More of the Borg aftereffects are still being felt and B'Elanna sees what Tom is really made of.

Excerpt: The older male whom Tom had addressed stepped forward. "They serve you?" he asked. "They serve Palis?"

"Palis?" Tom shook his head and holding his hand to his chest said, "Paris. Tom Paris."

The native nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. Palis."

Paris mentally groaned. Tuvok, speaking quietly, said, "Perhaps if you inquired about Palis?"

Nodding, Tom looked back at the native. "Tell me about Palis."

"Tell you?" The native looked puzzled for a moment, then his eyes lit in comprehension and he smiled. "Ah, you test Jormal. To see if we remember Palis." He shared a delighted smile with the rest of his fellow tribesmen before beginning his oration.

"Palis is the God of Sun. The God of All Things Good. It was said that one day Palis would return to our people and we would recognize him by his golden hair like sunlight and his clear eyes like the ocean, and that with his coming, all would be good again and our people would prosper."

Flight of Memory
Rated: PG
Posted: 1996

Author Notes: Written in a round robin forum. Tom involuntarily revisits Caldik Prime and B'Elanna makes sure she's along for the ride.

Excerpt: B'Elanna pulled her gaze away from Tom's troubled face, having to resist a strong urge to reach out a comforting hand toward him. Looking unhappy, she said, "I was able to retrieve a partial log from the shuttle, but it doesn't provide us with much more information."

Janeway had the definite impression that B'Elanna was trying her best not to say something. "You have it there?" she asked, nodding toward the tricorder in B'Elanna's hands.

B'Elanna nodded. "Yes." Then, as if making up her mind, she slid the tricorder up the table to Janeway. All watched as the captain reviewed its contents. After a moment Janeway looked up, her eyes meeting B'Elanna's before moving on to Tom Paris'.

"Mr. Paris, this indicates that you failed to activate the impulse buffer relays at a crucial moment."

Faces around the table registered surprise. This was the kind of mistake a novice pilot might make, but not an experienced pilot of Tom Paris' caliber.

Tom felt all the attention shift from Captain Janeway to himself, but his shocked gaze remained locked on the captain. You screwed up again, Paris, taunted a little voice inside him that had been silent for so long he had hoped it was finally gone for good. You can't do anything right. When will you learn?

Janeway watched the stricken expression take over Tom's face. His blue eyes stood out vividly in a suddenly pale face.

Story Outside the PTC Series:
Mind Games
Rated: PG
Posted: 1997

Author Notes: Written in a round robin forum. Goofiness ensues in a duel of one-upmanship with unexpected revelations for at least one half of P/T.

Excerpt: Tom and Harry waited until the doors had slid shut behind her before bursting out laughing.

"I have never understood the mind games humans like to play with each other," offered Tuvok dourly.

"She's half-Klingon," Harry reminded him.

"In my opinion, that would only serve to make the game twice as dangerous," said Tuvok sagely.


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