Comfort and Joy

By Captain Jinx
(c/o redshoes@ix.netcom.com)

"So," she said, "you want your present now?"

Tom just smiled.

"I want to check my Engineering messages before I turn in. You don't mind?"

"No, I've got some logs to catch up on. You take your time."

B'Elanna pulled herself up onto her knees, leaned down to kiss him once on the mouth --a gentle kiss, perhaps a promise of something unnamed --then stood and crossed the room to her console. The screen flared on, underlighting her strong chin. Tom watched the shadows play across her face as she began to read some log entry, then type a note, a comment, then read the next message.

Tom went to the bathroom, scrubbed his face, cleaned his teeth, then went to the bedroom to find his PADD. It wasn't on his nightstand, so he went back into the living room where he found it on the small table where they generally dropped things as they walked in the door. He heard B'Elanna at the other end of the room, now speaking to whoever was on duty in Engineering --Harris, it sounded like --about some problem that apparently couldn't be addressed with a note. "Well, have you tried flushing it with coolant...? No? All right. Try that at two atmospheres, then call me back..."

Well, so much for my Christmas present, Tom thought. Sounds like that's going to be a while. He knew the kind of problem it was: nothing life-threatening or even critical, but some piece of machinery or subsystem that wasn't responding the way the specs said it should --the sort of thing that made B'Elanna crazy. He paused briefly to consider how she would react to a child, not a piece of machinery or subsystem, that wasn't performing up to her requirements. His mind wandered in that direction for a moment or two, then snapped back to attention when his PADD beeped. Hadn't touched a control for two minutes. Did he want it to shut down?

Tom brought up the duty report he had been filling out, his shift from three days ago. Ye gods, what a boring region of space, he thought, trying to remember something, anything, about that shift. When was the last time we encountered, well, anything? A ship. An alien. One of Harry's freakin' anomalies. No wonder we're thinking about things like babies, for goodness sake. There's nothing else to do.

In the other room, Tom heard B'Elanna's voice droning on. The PADD in his hand beeped once, twice, three times, then shut itself off. Moments later, the PADD slipped from Tom's hand and tumbled to the floor.

He woke up feeling muzzy-headed, disoriented, and slightly chilled. He knew at least a couple hours had passed since he fell asleep, but couldn't say exactly how many. The lights were at their lowest setting, but he could hear B'Elanna's soft breathing, then felt the bed bounce slightly as she sat down. There were some other noises, clothes rustling, probably B'Elanna slipping out of her costume. Tom stirred, slipped down under the sheet, then realized that he had never taken off tights when he felt them tighten around his crotch. "Oh, hell," he whispered, then started to pull them down around his hips.

B'Elanna said softly, "You awake?"

"Am now. Ow. Crap. That hurts..."

"What?"

"These tights. Ah! I moved in the wrong direction and now they're cutting off my circulation." He heard his wife giggle, a sound not heard too frequently and usually only when he reported that he was experiencing some minor form of pain. "Oh, right. Ha-ha. Very funny.' Well, if you're still thinking about progeny, you better hope that the blood isn't cut off for too long."

B'Elanna giggled again, then tried to stifle it -- unsuccessfully -- and slid across the bed to offer assistance. "And you wonder why women get tired of these things..." Tom felt her hand on his thigh, then felt her fingers move up to the now-twisted waistband. "Here. Lift your butt off the bed." Tom complied, planting his feet on the mattress and shoulders against the headboard, then arched his back. B'Elanna reached under him, gripped the waistband with both hands, then expertly twisted it and pulled the tights down in one quick motion.

"Whoa!" Tom gasped, experiencing some unexpected friction as the tights slid down over his hips. Feeling his wife's hands moving down the backs of his legs as she tugged on the tights, and smelling the slightly musky aroma of the perfume she now sometimes wore for social occasions, Tom found himself with an erection. He wondered for a moment whether he should pull up the covers and hide it, or kind of waggle his hips back and forth so that B'Elanna would notice it.

His eyes had adjusted to the low light, so he could see that B'Elanna was still struggling with the tights and also that she was still wearing part of the costume -- the large red coat, though it appeared to be open in the front now. She yanked the tights off his ankles with a triumphant "Ha!" (everything was a battle for B'Elanna), then dismissively tossed them over her shoulder. She looked up to find herself staring at her husband's erect penis which was, somehow, bobbing up and down, the whole length of it swaying from side-to-side. She watched it dance for a moment, seemingly hypnotized, then started to laugh.

Tom began to laugh, too, but his penis continued to jerk and sway. B'Elanna, still chuckling, moved closer, fascinated. "How do you do that?"

"Superb muscle control." Tom laughed.

"So, this is what you do when I'm not around."

"Well, that's one of the things."

"What are the others?"

"Oh, you know. Things... A guy has to keep himself entertained."

"Show me."

"Show you? What? The things I do to keep myself entertained?"

"Sure." B'Elanna's voice took on a slightly huskier tone and Tom felt a sudden rush of heat from her direction. It was something he had experienced before, a palpable change in the air around her as she became aroused. He tried to see her face in the dim light, but the light source was behind her, so her eyes were in shadow. If he could see them, he knew, they would be wide and dark... What he could see, however, was that the front of the red coat was hanging open and she was wearing something underneath it...

Tom wasn't certain exactly what, but he suddenly guessed what his Christmas present might be: the long-awaited Return of the Red One, now retired for some three years. B'Elanna had wrapped it up in tissue paper and put it in the bottom drawer of her dresser about a year after she'd first worn it stating that she was feeling like he, Tom, was taking it for granted. It would reappear, she said, when a Special Occasion warranted its Return.

Tom grasped the base of his cock and slowly slid his hand up its length, ending its journey at the tip which was now oozing a bead of seminal fluid. He rubbed his thumb into the fluid, then ran it down the sensitive underside.

"What's that for?" B'Elanna asked softly.

"A little lubrication helps," Tom responded, gripping his cock again.

"Can I help?"

"With what? Lubrication?"

"Yes."

"Well, sure you can..."

B'Elanna moved closer to Tom, then bent her head down so that her mouth hovered near the tip of his now-engorged penis. He could feel her warm breath on the slightly damp underside. The sensation made him twitch a bit. Then, slowly, very slowly, she took the head of his cock into her mouth and rolled her tongue around the tip, then down the underside. The sensation made Tom's testicles contract and he squeezed the base of his cock, fighting off the sensation that was rising in him. B'Elanna shifted her weight, tilted her head, then took Tom into her mouth and down her throat once, twice, three times, while lightly scratching his sac with her nails. The warmth and tightness made him spasm, but he did not come, mostly through sheer force of will.

She sat back, wiping the little bit of spit that had dripped out the corner of her mouth and said, "Enough lubrication?"

Tom wrapped his fist around his now very erect penis and pumped it once slowly. His hand slid down and there was a soft squishing sound. "Oh, yeah, " he said. "That'll do fine."

He could hear the wicked smile in her voice. "Good. You can continue now."

Tom said, "Oh, good. Thank you." He moved his hand up and down the length of himself once again, slowly at first, then faster as he got a rhythm going. After six or seven strokes, B'Elanna spoke again.

"Hold on a second." She raised her voice. "Computer? Lights up one quarter. Simulate candle light." The level of light rose, but it was a soft, diffused light rather than the usual, somewhat clinical glare. Tom could see B'Elanna more clearly now, could see that the red coat was now gaping completely open and that she was indeed wearing the red bustier that she had created so many years ago. The underwire cups held her breasts up in a way that had always made Tom mad with desire. He could see the dark nipples peeking out from the lace trim. Suddenly, his cock seemed that much harder.

He began to stroke again, this time in earnest, the way he did when his wife was on a long duty shift and he was left going to bed alone, thinking about her legs wrapped around his ass, her nails digging into his back, her breasts heaving and her breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at her face, deep into her eyes, but she wasn't looking back into his. She was watching his hand on his cock, the long white shaft, the popping veins, the heavy purple glans. Tom stopped stroking and began rubbing the sensitive underside with his forefinger

"Is that the way you do it when you're alone?" B'Elanna said softly, her voice deep.

"Yes."

"What do you think about? When you're doing that, what goes through your head?"

"I think about you," Tom said, his voice hiccupping unexpectedly. "I think about the past -- the time in the bar back on Mallworld, the time we found that heated pool near the volcano, the first time..."

B'Elanna moaned softly. Tom heard her fingers moving, a soft, wet sound, even as he began to stroke in earnest again.

"What else?" she asked.

"What else...? I think about... I think about your mouth, your eyes, your hands..."

"Is that all?" Tom heard a hint of humor in her voice, a tiny laugh in the breathy tone.

"Oh, god, B'Elanna... I think about stroking your thighs, about sucking on your nipples... about fucking you..." But Tom was beginning to have trouble speaking coherently, since he was watching his wife's breasts swelling and falling, swelling and falling inside the red lace cups, and jiggling slightly from the circular ministrations her fingers were performing down in the shadowy depths between her legs. Tom's head was swimming from the musky aroma filling the room, all his senses reeling.

In some distant part of his brain, a tiny voice said, I can't believe we're doing this... I mean, three-four hours ago, we were talking about babies, and now here I am ready to shoot off into my own... And, then, he was shooting off, his hand moving so quickly he couldn't feel each individual stroke anymore. There was no single sensation, but only a melange of tactile, aural, and visual stimuli -- the throbbing of his cock as the semen spurted out, his own loud gasps and B'Elanna's groans, the sight of her eyes squeezing shut as her own orgasm began to rock her... Somewhere in there, he became aware of a sudden warm stickiness on his hands and he suddenly felt himself thinking, as he always did at that moment, of wherever the closest box of tissues might be...

A few minutes later, Tom opened his eyes to see his very lovely wife laying on her side, her head pillowed on her hand, staring up at him with a smile on her face. "You enjoy that?" he murmured softly.

She grinned, teeth bright in the low light. "Yeah. I did. How about you?"

"Oh, sure."

B'Elanna laughed. "Well... good. You want something to clean up?"

"That would be good."

She shifted her legs slowly, moved to the edge of the bed, then pulled herself up into a seated position. She stood up, walked into the bathroom, and Tom heard the water run for a few seconds. Moments later, she padded slowly back into the bedroom carrying, he guessed, a wet wash cloth. She handed him the cloth and, as he wiped at the now-cooling, sticky mess, she shrugged out of the red coat. It was the Red One, all right. It had slipped down some, but B'Elanna pulled it up so that it was once again snugly cupping her breasts.

She sat down on the bed, then threw one leg over his calves so that they were pinned beneath her weight. Reaching forward, she pulled the cloth from his hand and began to slowly clean his thighs and balls. Talking low, B'Elanna said, "So, how did that compare to doing it by yourself?"

"Oh, that was a lot different. Much, much different."

"Better?"

"Different."

"You have to get your own wash cloth, for example."

Tom nodded, watching her breasts move inside the cups. She looked soft, unfocused, at ease. She inched closer to him, placed the cloth on the headboard. "So," she asked, "is the recovery period any different?"

Tom frowned, shook his head. "Don't know. Might be."

He felt her fingers touching him lightly, a soft, lingering stroke down the top of his glans. His penis twitched slightly.

"This might take a little bit longer."

B'Elanna settled herself down over him, leaned forward and kissed him deeply. "I'm not going anywhere," she said.

And she didn't, either. Not for a while.

END

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