Resting Their Feet

Resting their feet.
D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:09 PM

Note: This takes place, obviously, before Vickie's "Fire." (Dang, girl! You're quick -- and good! Wow! What a twist!)

It was dark outside the square, which behind them still grew busier and brighter with arrivals, but it was bright enough with the moon and starlight to make their way across the high grass field and towards a row of trees over the rise of Look-Out Point. B'Elanna hadn't made that much pretense about her boots. They really were starting to get to her. But that didn't belie the reason she wanted to get away with Tom, either. She'd had her dance, shown them all, enjoyed herself...proved to herself she could be a lady, too, if she so chose.

But she wanted him, too. Since they'd parted in the stables, she been thinking about it, and even more so then, now that she was finally alone with him again.

Liking the idea of getting away a while, too, Tom gladly steered them down through the low lying woods and to a grassy knoll banking Sakari Creek, and helped her sit. It'd been a wild day, and he was glad to have a few minutes to rest. Looking at the lady by his side as she pulled her gown up to her knees, he reminded himself exactly how glad he was of that day.

B'Elanna's eyes pointed to the inviting water near her feet. Her whole body felt warm and relaxed, or would have been completely if it weren't for-- "Help me get my boots off, Tom?" she said, a little coy as she eyed him.

"Sure," he said and bent to unbutton them, grinning that she let him do all the work. This was a change. "I suppose you're not used to these things anymore."

"You're right, I'm not," she agreed, enjoying the view of him bent over as he was. "But I couldn't have worn my boots under this dress."

"Why not?" he asked, sliding one boot away and setting it aside.

"Why not?" she giggled. "Tom, it's not much ladylike to wear riding boots under a ballgown."

"Why would you want to be like any of the other ladies? I think you're fine as you are." Slowly, he slid her stocking down and off her shapely leg, then started over on her other boot.

She stared at him. His fingers busily popped open the second set of buttons, and his tone was light. But she could tell he was serious about what he'd said. "I reckon it's because it was something I thought I could never have, never be. I guess maybe I wasn't cut out to be like the other ladies, being my mama's daughter and all."

"I think you were the perfect lady back there -- and better than the rest of 'em, 'cause you're more than that." Tom slid her other boot and stocking off, then helped her scoot forward to put her feet in the water. She sighed in relief, and, tempted enough, he took his own boots off to join her.

Taking a deep breath at the feel of the cool creek water flowing between his toes, he looked over at her. Her eyes were closed; her head was tipped back. "Don't you like being part Klingon Indian?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

"It gives you strength, B'Elanna," he told her, meeting her eyes when they returned to his, "strength and character -- a heck of a lot more character than those other ladies in town. I happen to know a little about Klingon Indians. I always thought they were a proud and honorable people--a little too quick at the arrow sometimes, but a good, honest people. And I see that in you." He nodded as her expression turned a little curious, as if to reaffirm his words. "In the end, that's more important than any fussing and mannerly stuff can ever bring. What you've got lasts a lot longer than a ballgown and nice conversation."

RE: Resting their feet, part 2
D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:17 PM

Staring at him, she felt another warm rush come over her at his words and his stare. For some reason, she just couldn't hold back her tongue, or her hand, when she placed it on his thigh. "You really don't mind that I'm different than the other ladies?"

Tom smiled. "Mind? Heck, I love that about you. You don't hold back 'cause of manners or any sly intentions, you don't lie, you don't cheat. You don't have it in your nature, all those d@mned pretentions and underhanded notions. You're real and true. It's why I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone. Now, I don't know whether that's you or your mama's people--I'd think it was you. But your mama's blood's a part of you, and if taking that away would take away anything that made you who you are now, then I wouldn't regret your Klingon blood for all the stars in the sky."

She felt his hand take hers and, gazing up at him, she could feel her heart growing quicker. Despite the cool water she could tell her skin was growing flush. "You really aren't afraid of it, are you?"

"Nope." He caressed her hand playfully, his lips turning up a little. "Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing more of it, B'Elanna." He watched a smile cross her face -- and that hawkish look return to her.

"You know," she said, moving closer to him as she spoke, "there are some things I've..picked up about my mama's people...my people too, I guess. But I was always afraid to...explore that."

"Why were you afraid?" Tom asked, feeling her nearness and warmth, his voice dropping low as a result.

"You're right, Klingon Indians don't hold back. But being my pa's girl, too, I guess I learned how to. I guess I'm afraid of letting out what I sometimes feel. But..." and she placed a kiss on his waiting lips. "...I trust you, too Tom. I think you wouldn't scare you off if I let it out a little, would I?" She pressed her lips softly to his again, reclaiming the taste of him, breathing deeply his scent. For some reason, she couldn't restrain her perking senses at the reminder. "There are certain...practices," she whispered, very close to his skin, "with Klingon Indians, when it comes to taking a mate."

Tom drew a deep breath as well. He'd heard about those practices, all right. As a boy, he'd get a thrill hearing about them. But he wasn't a boy anymore, and he was serious about this woman beside him -- as serious as were the implications of what he knew she was suggesting.

But looking at her, her unmoving gaze, he knew he couldn't resist her, or the idea, either. Then, in a flash, he realised that she'd chosen him, in the Indian way. She'd chosen him. Knowing that, he just as sudden didn't give a d@mn that they might be missed up in the square -- they were all busy with themselves, anyway, and there was plenty of time left in that night. Thus, he grinned and told her, "No, ma'am, I don't reckon you could scare me off if you tried."

B'Elanna didn't miss that little challenge, and her responding smirk seemed to be all Tom needed to lean in and kiss her full. Another rush a sensation poured through her body as she felt his arms move around her, and she responded to him in turn. She let him lean her back onto the soft grass, purring as his hand began to roam down her body, over the smooth chintz of her gown, her other softly stroking her jaw.

RE: Resting their feet, part 3 (pg-14)
D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:24 PM

Suddenly she felt a wave of need rise up in her. She'd had it before, resisted it every time Tom had kissed her like that. But that time, she couldn't hold back, didn't want to, either. As his hand ran back over her ribs, she grabbed it--hard--and the other one too. With a growl, she kicked the ground and easily flipped them both over so she could straddle him.

Tom felt his hands hit the ground above his head, her hands effectively pinning him there as she leaned down, panting a little as her eyes nailed his again. Even in the dim light, he could see the predatory look that came over her. Then, he realised something else -- "B'Elanna, had you ever had wine before?"

"Are you chickening out on me, Tom?" she taunted.

"I wouldn't think of it," he said, his shock slowly fading off. "Just being sure."

"Oh, I'm sure about this, don't you worry about that."

"But what about your dress? You don't want it--"

"Well, we'll just have to make sure it don't get damaged, won't we?" She leaned down and kissed him lustily, reveling in both the response of his mouth and the rest of his body. He still tried to pull his hands free, but not that hard once her grip tightened, and with a small shift on her part, she got to enjoy his reaction to that. B'Elanna pulled up a little, only enough to speak. "So, Tom," she whispered huskily, her lips and warm breath grazing his own, "you really want to help me not be so afraid of my heritage?"

Tom took a few hard breaths as she backed up a little more, saw her desire written all over her face. He hadn't expected her to pounce on him like that, but he couldn't help but like those practices she was inroducing him to -- and like it a heck of a lot more than anything he'd ever known. "Yes, I do," he said, not wavering in the slightest.

She smiled again, showing her teeth. "Good." Yanking him up to sit, she released one of his hands to grab his chin, jerk it to the side and bite him hard on the jaw.

"Yow!" Tom cried out. "B'Elanna!" His fingers flew to the bite. Blood was already dripping from it, and the feral gleam in her eyes said she knew she'd done good. "We'll never be able to hide this, you know."

B'Elanna was already working on the buttons at the back of her dress, the taste of his blood proving even more exciting than the sangaree. "I don't want to hide it, Tom," she breathed. "I want every man, woman and child in town to know I've claimed you. I don't want any more whispers or rumors or questions. No matter where you've been before don't matter anymore. You're mine, now."

Tom grinned. No woman had ever sounded so possessive of him, and he never imagined any woman wanting to be. Sangaree or not -- I do like this, indeed.

"I won't argue with that," he returned and reached around to help her with the rest of the buttons. He kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting his blood on her tongue as his fingers roughly slipped away the last of the enclosures of her dress. Breaking back from him, she all but ripped it off over her head, tossing it aside before going to work on his shirt and his mouth.

Unable to hold back any longer, intoxicated by her, the feel of her hot skin under his fingers as he drove them beneath her corselet, and an undeniable passion surging inside him for the second time that day, Tom grabbed B'Elanna's hair at the nape and yanked her head to the side. A second later, he'd sunk his teeth into her cheek, issuing a gleeful growl from her.

RE: Resting their feet, part 4 (pg-13)
D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:29 PM

Suddenly, his shirt was flung aside as well, and she threw her arms around him, kissing him, wild and blind as they pressed themselves firmly against each other. If the stable was passion, he thought as he let her plunder him, I can't imagine what she's gonna do to me this time!

Not that he was arguing. He'd made his bed with that wild filly, and dangit, he wasn't about to run from it. He wasn't that much a fool. He'd worked too hard to get her, to earn her trust. And he knew he'd earned enough trust that she'd allow herself to let loose on him a part of her nature she'd always kept closed up, that she was showing him without fear of his rejection. Wine or not--she'd claimed him, and even before that night fell, she'd accepted him. It wasn't something he was about to take for granted--or surely complain about, considering.

So he responded in equal kind to her kiss and her motions, letting her set the pace that time, make all the first advances. Still, to all, he responded, drinking in her earthy reactions as he did exactly as she directed with little more than a growl or an insistent gesture. And he wasn't as shocked when, after making more quick work of each other, she'd flipped him back over, pinning him down.

She leaned over him again, unmindful of the blood steadily creeping down her jaw, panting hard as she regarded her chosen mate, who stared up at her with an expression rightfully equal to her own.

"Time for me to lead for a while," she told him in no uncertain terms.

Tom barely had time to tell her he'd already let her. A moment later, he didn't bother.

***

Over the rise and in the longer grass, Madame D'Alaireux made her way steadily back towards the Ball, now teeming with celebrants and cheer. They'd started the bonfire in the mainway, and the music was decidedly upbeat. The square dances were well under way.

Her walk had been long and aimless, collecting all the visions she'd found crawing at her when she first avoided going into the Leolo Root Ball at least a few hours past, according to the shift of the moon above. There was a force that had disturbed her since she saw Chakotay Torres arrive.

Perhaps some java would be helpful to--

Suddenly behind her, she heard a keening cry, like that of a bobcat, echoing through air. For the second time that day, she laughed a little, to herself. She recognized well the tremolo of that invocation, knew better what was person and what was creature.

Not embarrassed by what her ear had witnessed, she instead knew yet more that her purpose for coming to Voyager City has not been foolhardy after all, and not wrought completely with bad omens--even if they were intertwined with the good.

It is almost time, she told herself. She has taken another -- albeit big -- step. She is almost ready...if not even more Klingon than even I gave her credit for!...She will need it now, more than ever, as will her lover. I feel that keenly now.

Her smile grown sage, Madame D'Alaireux continued on, yet not to the square. She went instead to her wagon.

All opinions and writings reproduced in these pages are copyright © their authors. The Coffee Nebula and any text or original artwork relating to its site design is copyright © Jules Langley 1997-2024, based on images, concepts and characters from the television series Star Trek: Voyager. Star Trek and all of its associated trademarks are TM, ® and © Paramount Pictures. Other shows are © their respective production companies/networks. It is not the intention of this page to attempt to infringe or supersede those copyrights in any way.


FAN FICTION FAN FICTION SEARCH VOYAGER CITY SEARCH VOYAGER CITY Guide To Voyager City Horsebreaking And Mysteries Range War The Annual Leola Root Festival The Final Day Of The Festival The Leola Root Ball The Trial Of Sevenita Robbery! Building And Rebuilding The Cattle Drive Cha'Kago, Cha'Kago, It's My Kind Of Reservation Homecoming Paydirt Archaeology And Anthropology The Search For Bob The Delta Quadrant Oz The House-Husband's Club PIRATES OF THE COFFEEBEAN PROSE SONGS VERSE "I asked cookie here for a cup of joe, but he said with money being a little tight, he was trying to ration it. Offered me his 'better than coffee substitute'. No offense sir, but I've had better drinks at a Hirogen hoe down." — James Tecumseh Stark The Long Goodbye		Resting Their Feet Resting their feet. D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:09 PM Note: This takes place, obviously, before Vickie's "Fire." (Dang, girl! You're quick -- and good! Wow! What a twist!) It was dark outside the square, which behind them still grew busier and brighter with arrivals, but it was bright enough with the moon and starlight to make their way across the high grass field and towards a row of trees over the rise of Look-Out Point. B'Elanna hadn't made that much pretense about her boots. They really were starting to get to her. But that didn't belie the reason she wanted to get away with Tom, either. She'd had her dance, shown them all, enjoyed herself...proved to herself she could be a lady, too, if she so chose. But she wanted him, too. Since they'd parted in the stables, she been thinking about it, and even more so then, now that she was finally alone with him again. Liking the idea of getting away a while, too, Tom gladly steered them down through the low lying woods and to a grassy knoll banking Sakari Creek, and helped her sit. It'd been a wild day, and he was glad to have a few minutes to rest. Looking at the lady by his side as she pulled her gown up to her knees, he reminded himself exactly how glad he was of that day. B'Elanna's eyes pointed to the inviting water near her feet. Her whole body felt warm and relaxed, or would have been completely if it weren't for-- "Help me get my boots off, Tom?" she said, a little coy as she eyed him. "Sure," he said and bent to unbutton them, grinning that she let him do all the work. This was a change. "I suppose you're not used to these things anymore." "You're right, I'm not," she agreed, enjoying the view of him bent over as he was. "But I couldn't have worn my boots under this dress." "Why not?" he asked, sliding one boot away and setting it aside. "Why not?" she giggled. "Tom, it's not much ladylike to wear riding boots under a ballgown." "Why would you want to be like any of the other ladies? I think you're fine as you are." Slowly, he slid her stocking down and off her shapely leg, then started over on her other boot. She stared at him. His fingers busily popped open the second set of buttons, and his tone was light. But she could tell he was serious about what he'd said. "I reckon it's because it was something I thought I could never have, never be. I guess maybe I wasn't cut out to be like the other ladies, being my mama's daughter and all." "I think you were the perfect lady back there -- and better than the rest of 'em, 'cause you're more than that." Tom slid her other boot and stocking off, then helped her scoot forward to put her feet in the water. She sighed in relief, and, tempted enough, he took his own boots off to join her. Taking a deep breath at the feel of the cool creek water flowing between his toes, he looked over at her. Her eyes were closed; her head was tipped back. "Don't you like being part Klingon Indian?" She shrugged. "I dunno." "It gives you strength, B'Elanna," he told her, meeting her eyes when they returned to his, "strength and character -- a heck of a lot more character than those other ladies in town. I happen to know a little about Klingon Indians. I always thought they were a proud and honorable people--a little too quick at the arrow sometimes, but a good, honest people. And I see that in you." He nodded as her expression turned a little curious, as if to reaffirm his words. "In the end, that's more important than any fussing and mannerly stuff can ever bring. What you've got lasts a lot longer than a ballgown and nice conversation." RE: Resting their feet, part 2 D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:17 PM Staring at him, she felt another warm rush come over her at his words and his stare. For some reason, she just couldn't hold back her tongue, or her hand, when she placed it on his thigh. "You really don't mind that I'm different than the other ladies?" Tom smiled. "Mind? Heck, I love that about you. You don't hold back 'cause of manners or any sly intentions, you don't lie, you don't cheat. You don't have it in your nature, all those d@mned pretentions and underhanded notions. You're real and true. It's why I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone. Now, I don't know whether that's you or your mama's people--I'd think it was you. But your mama's blood's a part of you, and if taking that away would take away anything that made you who you are now, then I wouldn't regret your Klingon blood for all the stars in the sky." She felt his hand take hers and, gazing up at him, she could feel her heart growing quicker. Despite the cool water she could tell her skin was growing flush. "You really aren't afraid of it, are you?" "Nope." He caressed her hand playfully, his lips turning up a little. "Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing more of it, B'Elanna." He watched a smile cross her face -- and that hawkish look return to her. "You know," she said, moving closer to him as she spoke, "there are some things I've..picked up about my mama's people...my people too, I guess. But I was always afraid to...explore that." "Why were you afraid?" Tom asked, feeling her nearness and warmth, his voice dropping low as a result. "You're right, Klingon Indians don't hold back. But being my pa's girl, too, I guess I learned how to. I guess I'm afraid of letting out what I sometimes feel. But..." and she placed a kiss on his waiting lips. "...I trust you, too Tom. I think you wouldn't scare you off if I let it out a little, would I?" She pressed her lips softly to his again, reclaiming the taste of him, breathing deeply his scent. For some reason, she couldn't restrain her perking senses at the reminder. "There are certain...practices," she whispered, very close to his skin, "with Klingon Indians, when it comes to taking a mate." Tom drew a deep breath as well. He'd heard about those practices, all right. As a boy, he'd get a thrill hearing about them. But he wasn't a boy anymore, and he was serious about this woman beside him -- as serious as were the implications of what he knew she was suggesting. But looking at her, her unmoving gaze, he knew he couldn't resist her, or the idea, either. Then, in a flash, he realised that she'd chosen him, in the Indian way. She'd chosen him. Knowing that, he just as sudden didn't give a d@mn that they might be missed up in the square -- they were all busy with themselves, anyway, and there was plenty of time left in that night. Thus, he grinned and told her, "No, ma'am, I don't reckon you could scare me off if you tried." B'Elanna didn't miss that little challenge, and her responding smirk seemed to be all Tom needed to lean in and kiss her full. Another rush a sensation poured through her body as she felt his arms move around her, and she responded to him in turn. She let him lean her back onto the soft grass, purring as his hand began to roam down her body, over the smooth chintz of her gown, her other softly stroking her jaw. RE: Resting their feet, part 3 (pg-14) D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:24 PM Suddenly she felt a wave of need rise up in her. She'd had it before, resisted it every time Tom had kissed her like that. But that time, she couldn't hold back, didn't want to, either. As his hand ran back over her ribs, she grabbed it--hard--and the other one too. With a growl, she kicked the ground and easily flipped them both over so she could straddle him. Tom felt his hands hit the ground above his head, her hands effectively pinning him there as she leaned down, panting a little as her eyes nailed his again. Even in the dim light, he could see the predatory look that came over her. Then, he realised something else -- "B'Elanna, had you ever had wine before?" "Are you chickening out on me, Tom?" she taunted. "I wouldn't think of it," he said, his shock slowly fading off. "Just being sure." "Oh, I'm sure about this, don't you worry about that." "But what about your dress? You don't want it--" "Well, we'll just have to make sure it don't get damaged, won't we?" She leaned down and kissed him lustily, reveling in both the response of his mouth and the rest of his body. He still tried to pull his hands free, but not that hard once her grip tightened, and with a small shift on her part, she got to enjoy his reaction to that. B'Elanna pulled up a little, only enough to speak. "So, Tom," she whispered huskily, her lips and warm breath grazing his own, "you really want to help me not be so afraid of my heritage?" Tom took a few hard breaths as she backed up a little more, saw her desire written all over her face. He hadn't expected her to pounce on him like that, but he couldn't help but like those practices she was inroducing him to -- and like it a heck of a lot more than anything he'd ever known. "Yes, I do," he said, not wavering in the slightest. She smiled again, showing her teeth. "Good." Yanking him up to sit, she released one of his hands to grab his chin, jerk it to the side and bite him hard on the jaw. "Yow!" Tom cried out. "B'Elanna!" His fingers flew to the bite. Blood was already dripping from it, and the feral gleam in her eyes said she knew she'd done good. "We'll never be able to hide this, you know." B'Elanna was already working on the buttons at the back of her dress, the taste of his blood proving even more exciting than the sangaree. "I don't want to hide it, Tom," she breathed. "I want every man, woman and child in town to know I've claimed you. I don't want any more whispers or rumors or questions. No matter where you've been before don't matter anymore. You're mine, now." Tom grinned. No woman had ever sounded so possessive of him, and he never imagined any woman wanting to be. Sangaree or not -- I do like this, indeed. "I won't argue with that," he returned and reached around to help her with the rest of the buttons. He kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting his blood on her tongue as his fingers roughly slipped away the last of the enclosures of her dress. Breaking back from him, she all but ripped it off over her head, tossing it aside before going to work on his shirt and his mouth. Unable to hold back any longer, intoxicated by her, the feel of her hot skin under his fingers as he drove them beneath her corselet, and an undeniable passion surging inside him for the second time that day, Tom grabbed B'Elanna's hair at the nape and yanked her head to the side. A second later, he'd sunk his teeth into her cheek, issuing a gleeful growl from her. RE: Resting their feet, part 4 (pg-13) D'Alaire — 24 Sep 1998, 2:29 PM Suddenly, his shirt was flung aside as well, and she threw her arms around him, kissing him, wild and blind as they pressed themselves firmly against each other. If the stable was passion, he thought as he let her plunder him, I can't imagine what she's gonna do to me this time! Not that he was arguing. He'd made his bed with that wild filly, and dangit, he wasn't about to run from it. He wasn't that much a fool. He'd worked too hard to get her, to earn her trust. And he knew he'd earned enough trust that she'd allow herself to let loose on him a part of her nature she'd always kept closed up, that she was showing him without fear of his rejection. Wine or not--she'd claimed him, and even before that night fell, she'd accepted him. It wasn't something he was about to take for granted--or surely complain about, considering. So he responded in equal kind to her kiss and her motions, letting her set the pace that time, make all the first advances. Still, to all, he responded, drinking in her earthy reactions as he did exactly as she directed with little more than a growl or an insistent gesture. And he wasn't as shocked when, after making more quick work of each other, she'd flipped him back over, pinning him down. She leaned over him again, unmindful of the blood steadily creeping down her jaw, panting hard as she regarded her chosen mate, who stared up at her with an expression rightfully equal to her own. "Time for me to lead for a while," she told him in no uncertain terms. Tom barely had time to tell her he'd already let her. A moment later, he didn't bother. *** Over the rise and in the longer grass, Madame D'Alaireux made her way steadily back towards the Ball, now teeming with celebrants and cheer. They'd started the bonfire in the mainway, and the music was decidedly upbeat. The square dances were well under way. Her walk had been long and aimless, collecting all the visions she'd found crawing at her when she first avoided going into the Leolo Root Ball at least a few hours past, according to the shift of the moon above. There was a force that had disturbed her since she saw Chakotay Torres arrive. Perhaps some java would be helpful to-- Suddenly behind her, she heard a keening cry, like that of a bobcat, echoing through air. For the second time that day, she laughed a little, to herself. She recognized well the tremolo of that invocation, knew better what was person and what was creature. Not embarrassed by what her ear had witnessed, she instead knew yet more that her purpose for coming to Voyager City has not been foolhardy after all, and not wrought completely with bad omens--even if they were intertwined with the good. It is almost time, she told herself. She has taken another -- albeit big -- step. She is almost ready...if not even more Klingon than even I gave her credit for!...She will need it now, more than ever, as will her lover. I feel that keenly now. Her smile grown sage, Madame D'Alaireux continued on, yet not to the square. She went instead to her wagon.

LAST UPDATED: 06 Feb 2005		All opinions and writings reproduced in these pages are copyright © their authors. The Coffee Nebula and any text or original artwork relating to its site design is copyright © Jules Langley 1997-2024, based on images, concepts and characters from the television series Star Trek: Voyager. Star Trek and all of its associated trademarks are TM, ® and © Paramount Pictures. Other shows are © their respective production companies/networks. It is not the intention of this page to attempt to infringe or supersede those copyrights in any way.