Author’s Note (11/00): This story takes place a week after the events of “B’Elanna Through The Looking Glass,” and outlines similar carnal mischief. It was actually written a number of months after the above-mentioned story, but is still set prior to the recent Paris/Torres nuptials, unseen in the episode “Drive.” The quotes aren’t quite as familiar, but I tried to stick to the spirit of the original. That is, nice and smutty, using quotes from the story. No disrespect intended to Lewis Carroll. It’s all in fun.
However…if you are underage or don’t care to read about NC-17-rated activity between Our Favorite Couple, married or not, stop now.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns it all. Always has. Always will. I accept this.
Looking Glass Universe 2:
Tom’s Adventures in Wonderland
Tom and B’Elanna spent the better part of the next week studying “Through the Looking Glass,” but they kept this fact from each other. Unfortunately (or fortunately), every time Tom thought of B’Elanna in the yellow party frock, his pants got tight. Every time “Twas brillig and the slithy toves…” popped into B’Elanna’s head – which was often – she had to change her underwear. It was getting to be fairly unbearable, never mind expensive. Both were using up replicator rations at an alarming rate, and Tom’s cold showers were giving him frostbite.
By the time their schedules coincided enough to spend a whole night together, they were both foaming at the mouth (and a few other places).
* * *
B’Elanna met him at the door. In a green party frock this time, complete with the white pinafore.
Only the bottom part.
Tom’s knees turned to water and he had to grab hold of the door frame to keep from toppling over. Good thing no one else was in the corridor, though if anyone else had gotten a glimpse of B’Elanna, they might also fall over.
“Beh…Bella…” Cough. Since he couldn’t quite say her name, he decided to start right in with a quote. “How…how would you like to…to live in a looking-glass house? Oh how nice it would be if…we could only get through the passage into the looking-glass house!”
B’Elanna, standing in the open doorway, gazed solemnly at him and began to tweak one nipple, moist lips parted slightly, with just the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her teeth. Tom pushed on valiantly.
“Let’s, uh, let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we can get through. Why, it’s turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It’ll be easy enough to get through…”
Smirking now, B’Elanna finally decided to cut him a break. She grabbed him rather indelicately by his uniform shirtfront and pulled him across the threshold into a full-body embrace, slamming her lips onto his. Bruising was inevitable and it never slowed Tom. He filled his hand with one full, warm breast and returned the kiss with equal ardor.
He was not, however, so far gone as to forget what it was about. According the rules, it was her turn. Then again, he hadn’t expected her to arrive at her door half-naked, so it could be the so-called “rules” had gone straight out the airlock for the evening. With B’Elanna pressed thusly against him, he decided he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the rules.
B’Elanna’s hand sought Tom’s groin, and her first stroke evoked a huge gasp from him. He ripped his mouth from hers, threw his head back and loosed a groan he felt to his toes.
She stroked his full length, sedately, applying more pressure when he tried to get her to back off just a little. She took her turn speaking, her fingers never letting up.
“Curtsey while you’re thinking what to say, it saves time.” She took firm hold of his balls, squeezed and released, and spoke again. He could hear laughter in her voice.
“It’s time for you to answer now. Open your mouth a little wider when you speak, and always say ‘your Majesty.’”
With great effort, he found his voice and some sense of turnabout. Bending slightly at the knees to get up under the petticoats, he slid his hand up her inner thigh, encountering no resistance and lots of heat, surprised at neither. Nor was he surprised when she widened her stance. Eyes glittering, he slipped his middle finger neatly into her, his thumb swirling over her clit, and spoke with some mischief.
“I only wanted to see what the garden was like…your Majesty.”
She grunted on “your Majesty” and took her hand away from him, bringing it up to the back of his head. Their lips met again, this kiss slower and deeper. She rolled against his hand, a familiar growl vibrating in her chest. She was so wet that her fluids were soaking his palm and her musky scent began its usual assault on his sense of balance. He forgot the story for a moment, pulling his mouth from hers to murmur raggedly.
“Jesus, B’Elanna,” pumping his finger to emphasize his point, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”
She purred against his ear. “Ah, ah, lover, that’s not in the story. You can do better.” She carefully extracted his finger and brought it to her lips, her tongue darting out to lick her wetness from it.
“You will observe the Rules of Battle, of course?” he asked with mock formality, watching her licking his finger.
She finished with one, long, sensual lick, from the center of his palm up to the tip. “I always do.”
He fell to his knees, leaving his hand at her mouth, but in doing so he nearly cut off circulation to a certain vital body part. He reclaimed his hand to make a slight adjustment to his anatomy and then directed his attention to the task at hand. She let him keep his hand.
Her skirt was of the same design as the yellow one had been. He simply began to strip away layers until he hit brown skin. No garter this time, no silk stockings, no patent leather Mary Janes. Just B’Elanna. He stared for a moment, because he could never stop himself.
“I see you’re admiring my little box. It’s my own invention – to keep clothes and sandwiches in. You see I carry it upside-down, so that the rain can’t get in.”
Since that was pretty funny, he laughed. “Good one, B’Ela…er, your Majesty.”
She joined him in mirth. “It was, wasn’t it? Thank you.” She dropped her eyes closed and told him he could continue.
He leaned forward to lave his tongue over her navel and over the dusting of dark curls on her belly just below it, certain of her response. Sure enough, she inhaled sharply, held it, and released it in one impossibly long breath. She had some mighty Klingon lungs, though he couldn’t remember if she had ever said anything about their being redundant. No matter. He loved hearing her use them, whether she was screaming at him or screaming for him. He furrowed his tongue into the triangle of wiry curls, tasting salt and other elements distinctly inhuman. He moved to go deeper, but she pushed him away, struggling for a decent breath.
“Would you – be good enough to stop a minute – just to get – one’s breath again?”
“I’m good enough, only I’m not strong enough.” He leaned forward again, his tongue tenderly parting her, and placed a kiss on swollen, glistening tissue. He heard air rush from her lungs again. “I wonder,” he said sincerely, “if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?” Unable to resist any longer, he pushed his face into her.
She felt so good. She tasted even better. He wanted to live here. He heard a rumbling sound of affirmation.
“I’m…I’m…very glad I happened to be in the way.”
“Well, yes.” B’Elanna had begun a delicate full-body quiver, and this prompted him to try their new trick.
He leaned back on his legs, away from her. She immediately stilled and whimpered like a lost puppy. Leaning in, he ran his tongue up the short length of her genitalia and leaned back again. Once more she whimpered, but she did not reach for him or make any kind of demands on him.
Submissiveness was most assuredly not B’Elanna’s strong point, but this trick required some measure of it in order to succeed. Tom leaned in and licked again, knowing if he waited too long in between, she would lose the fiery edge of her arousal that made this whole thing so remarkable. He leaned in and licked again, and this time waited only the time it took to lean back before coming forward and licking her again. Then he paused another long beat, watching her carefully.
Her hands had begun to clench into fists and then relax, clench and relax, and her lips were curved into a subtle smile. B’Elanna obviously liked climaxing this way, even though it took quite a bit of control – from both of them. Timing was everything.
Clench and relax.
She had started to hum a low note deep in her throat, but otherwise she was inside herself, concentrating hard on what he was doing. He leaned in and licked, leaned back, waited, and leaned in again. But this time he did not back away.
He blew gently and spoke, allowing his breath to caress her. “I should see the garden far better if I could get to the top of that hill: and here’s a path that leads straight to it—” He licked her, delayed for a moment on her clitoris, and then drew his tongue slowly away. Her breath caught with the delay, and he knew the trick had worked again.
Her humming became a sort of chuckle. As she had the first time, B’Elanna was laughing as the orgasm took her. Tom just figured she laughed because it felt so good and also because she was amazed that her body would do this without him hardly even touching her. The climax she had this way was not very powerful, and certainly did not invoke any of her usual Klingon urges, but, nevertheless, it had clearly been pleasurable enough for B’Elanna to suggest they try it again sometime. He was certainly glad to oblige. He watched as she shook, tiny little tremors that raised goose bumps along the surface of her skin.
She finished with a wide smile and a stretch, not missing a beat in the game they were playing. “Mmm…and can all the flowers talk?”
“As well as you can and a great deal louder.” He began to loosen his pants with one hand while reaching for her with the other.
* * *
He awoke with a start, thinking he was falling. Momentarily disoriented, he blinked and shook his head to clear it.
When had he fallen asleep? Had she knocked him out again? No, no. He was just tired. Judging by B’Elanna, who was sprawled bonelessly across his chest, he wasn’t the only one. He dearly hated to disturb her, but his back was starting to ache. He was getting too damn old for sleeping on the floor. Doing other things on the floor was just peachy, but he’d long passed his days of crashing all night on the carpet.
He lifted his head and gently put his hand into her hair. “So I wasn’t dreaming, after all, unless – unless we’re all part of the same dream.”
She stirred but did not quite waken. “Mmm?”
“Hey, I was thinking, which is the best way out of this wood: it’s getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?”
Fully awake now, B’Elanna only looked at him and grinned.
“Well, now that we have seen each other, if you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you. Is that a bargain?”
“Yes, if you like.” Still smiling, she climbed to her feet and stood naked over him.
He lifted his arm and touched the triangle of dark curls. She covered his hand with her own, pressing his fingertips into her folds, moving them as if they were her own.
She continued her dual-handed masturbation, staring right at him. “It isn’t manners for us to begin, you know,” but she never stopped what she was doing.
“How is it you can talk so nicely?”
Abruptly, she stopped and pulled his hand away. He whimpered and frowned. She made face and demanded. “Put your hand down.”
He lowered his hand to his penis, and a smile replaced his frown. “It’s very hard, but I don’t see what that has to do with it.” He reached up with his other hand to touch her again. She again covered his hand with hers. Her concentration focused on this activity and now her eyes slipped closed. After a few moments, she gamely tried to speak, though it was clear she was losing ground.
Tom, on the floor, was mesmerized by this display. God, she was so beautiful, so responsive. His fingertips moved against her, but he was careful to give her all the control. She felt so good. So warm and wet. He busied himself with himself and with her, waiting for her to get the words out.
“In…uh…in most gardens, they make the beds too…huhh…too soft.” Then came a most stunning maneuver. She opened her eyes and carefully disengaged his fingers, clasping them in hers. Using this connection for balance, she lowered herself straight onto him and bent over, readying to speak again.
He stopped her with a shushing sound and murmured, “Hold your tongue,” just before capturing her mouth.
She had, unfortunately, set herself awkwardly on him, and when she shifted, he felt a decidedly uncomfortable twinge in his back. He jerked instinctively against the pain and all the fun went out of the moment.
“Ah!”
She understood immediately. “Oh, Jesus, Tom, your back. I forgot. Wait, wait, let me just…let me just…”
The game stopped while they separated and relocated to the bedroom.
* * *
“There,” she whispered very near his ear, “that feeling better?”
Tom was on his belly on the bed. B’Elanna was straddling him. She had first taken a muscle regen unit to his back and then replaced that with her hands, massaging with an engineer’s precision and thoroughness. He was so close to sleep, he could barely muster the words to answer her. “I say this isn’t fair. I should win easy.”
“I’m not so sure of that.” Replacing her hands with her mouth, she kissed his back, scooting lower until her tongue tickled the area above the crack of his ass, whispering again, “That feel better?” She blew a hot breath across his ass before applying her meaty lips to it.
That felt infinitely better. “I said, I say this isn’t fair.” Determined to even the odds a little, he rose up onto his hands and knees, jostling her off her perch. He spread his knees and she knelt between them.
“I think I’ll go down – no,” she paused for effect, “I won’t just yet.” With one hand curled around his hip for balance, she nipped him along the back of one thigh, leaving (he knew from past experience) little red pinch marks and giving him an almost painful hard-on. If she didn’t touch him soon…and a quote popped into his head.
“I know you are a friend, a dear friend, and an old friend. And you won’t hurt me.”
She reached between his thighs to fondle his balls. “No, indeed.”
“And yet I don’t know.”
“Think again. That won’t do.” And with that, she twisted sideways and insinuated herself between his legs, adjusting position so her mouth was level with his erection and stated simply, “I think I’ll go down the other way.”
She tongued him with familiar ease, directing her mouth in a most stimulating manner. For one second, he wanted to discard the story and just fuck, but at that very moment, she rearranged her legs around one of his thighs and pressed herself firmly into him, removing her mouth from his penis as she did so.
“I know…what you’re thinking about, but it isn’t so, nohow. Contrariwise, if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.” She squirmed against him, chuckling.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It isn’t respectable to beg.”
“I only meant that I didn’t understand.”
He felt her rearrange herself beneath him, and opened his eyes to see a glistening patch of dark curls directly beneath his face. He inhaled deeply. “Oh, God, B’Elanna…”
“I hope you’re not much tired?” she asked, and he could hear the teasing in her voice. She tickled his penis and he jumped a mile. He was as quick as he could be with the response.
“Nohow. And thank you very much for asking. You like poetry?”
They were on a roll now. “Ye-es, pretty well – some poetry.”
Tom began, as B’Elanna’s warm wetness invited him lower. He felt the tip of her tongue flutter lightly against the tip of his penis and almost lost his train of thought. Almost. But the best part was on its way, and he didn’t want to spoil it.
“The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might.
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright.
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.”
She wiggled her hips and purred. Tom swallowed hard but kept going.
“Uh, the moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done.
‘It’s very rude of him,’ she said,
‘to come and spoil the fun!’”
She planted her feet and lifted her hips from the mattress, straight toward him. Tom continued, but he did not get far.
He buried his face in her. They collapsed sideways and began a most enjoyable endeavor, second only to The Act itself.
No rules or rhyme, no tricks this time!
End.
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“What a noise they make when they tumble.”
-- Lewis Carroll, “Through the Looking Glass”
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