Remember My Name; You'll Be Screaming It Later

"Less talking; more screaming."

"Oh, so you think you can make me scream, do you, Bella?" Tom asked, a smile quirking up the corners of his lips.

B'Elanna grinned almost ferally, unspoken lust lighting her eyes. "I think I can make you scream, moan, whimper, beg for mercy…and then scream again," she purred, every word sizzling through his body to pool heatedly in his groin.

"I'm not so sure you can't," Tom choked out, before rallying himself. "But I'm going to make you work for it."

"I'd expect nothing less, Flyboy," she murmured against his neck before moving lower down his body.

Later – much, much later – they lay tangled together in a tired, sweaty – he winced as the bite and scratch marks scattered all over his body sang out in protest – rather sore heap in the middle of his living room. Only a few feet from the doorway where he'd been first been tackled by his lover – they'd never made it to the bedroom – Tom lay curled up with B'Elanna lying on top of him, her head resting on his mostly unmarked chest.

A soft on his lips, Tom gazed tenderly over at B'Elanna. Awake, she could be a wildcat, as fiercely sexy as any Klingon woman; asleep, she was a cute, cuddly kitten.

Not that he'd ever mention any of his observations to her, of course. He liked living, thank you very much.

Forgoing more introspection for this evening in favor of sleep, he tugged his uniform jacket over to use as a pillow, hers taking the place of a blanket. Eyes closing, he had time for one more thought before he fell asleep.

Maybe he hadn't begged for mercy, but he had moaned, whimpered, and screamed. Multiple times.

He definitely wouldn't be forgetting this anytime soon.

Or her, either.

Kahless, he had it bad.

He smiled.

Which was as it should be.