Lilac Whine
BAD FIC by Mort_The_Bad
(cos Mort_The_Mad denies ANY association with this one)
 

"Caught you," Captain Janeway smirked.

She had been doing random spot checks of the junior officers' quarters for
weeks. Somehow she had never managed to find a single thing out of place in
Tom's quarters, as if he had some way of knowing when she was about to
strike, but she had known it was only a matter of time before she hit
paydirt, and today was that glorious day.

Get out of this one, you randy little bastard, she thought, as she held one
of the contraband items up and waved it maliciously in Tom's face.

For a moment, Tom's face retained its flushed look of complete helpless
panic. Then he grinned wolfishly as inspiration struck him.

"They're mine," Tom smirked. "I have sensitive skin, you see, and boxers
just seem to rub me in all the wrong places."

Janeway gave a double-take at Tom's comment, regarded the item of clothing,
and then took an obvious mental measurement of Tom's ass. She had to admit
to himself that they would easily fit the pilot, but she knew he was lying.
The problem was in proving it.

"I never pictured you in embroidered lilac silk, Lieutenant," she drawled.
"They aren't exactly Starfleet regulation, are they?"

"Neither's visible panty line, Ma'am," Tom sniped.

Janeway rubbed a hand self-consciously down her pants seat. Was Paris
calling her a fat-ass?  She'd wipe that cocky grin off his face, she
decided.

"You do realise that I will have to make a formal report if you insist on
claiming that these are yours," she said silkily. "People have a bad habit
of 'accidentally' reading confidential files, you know. Do you really want
the whole ship to find out that you are wearing these under your uniform?"

Tom's face whitened a little but he didn't give in. Ever since New Earth
when the Captain had discovered that Chakotay wouldn't fuck her even if she
was the last woman on the planet ( since she *was* the last woman on the
planet at the time ) she had rescinded her earlier decision to allow the
crew to fraternise.

Tom had already been caught twice breaking the non-fraternisation policy and
under Janeway's 'three strikes and you're neutered' rule, the penalty for a
third violation was terrifying enough for him to prefer a reputation for
wearing ladies underwear.

Janeway glowered, realising that Tom wasn't going to break his story without
a little more assistance. She
poked a finger through the wide slit in the silken article and wiggled it
back and forth.

"And they are crotchless because?" she smirked.

"Because I get heat rash," the wily blond said quickly.

"And the bra?" Janeway snarled.

"Muscle strain. Comes from being so tall. It's the effect of gravity on my
pectoral muscles, not that I expect you to understand that."

Janeway's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Now Paris was calling her a
SHORT fat-ass.

"So," she drawled. "If I were ever to send you to sickbay unexpectedly for
your annual medical, the Doctor would find you wearing these?"

Tom thought quickly.

"Well it would depend on the day, wouldn't it? I mean some days are cotton
days rather than silk days, or blue days rather than lilac days. It depends
on my mood. It's a hormonal thing for me, kind of like the way women have
*that* time of the month. Oh, I don't suppose you remember how that feels,
Captain."

Now he was calling her a short MENAPAUSAL fat-ass.

Scarlet-faced with fury, Kathryn clenched her fists in rage.

"I'm watching you, Mr. Paris. I *will* catch you out. The next time you have
a woman in your quarters will be the last time," she promised grimly, making
a scissoring action with her fingers.

Tom swallowed heavily, his grin slipping into an expression of definite
terror as his balls crawled between his legs and started to burrow in panic.

Deciding that that mental image was going to be the pinnacle of her
satisfaction, the Captain spun on her heels and marched out of Tom's
quarters.

Tom's comm badge bleeped.

"You okay, honey?" came a dark, sultry voice.

Tom's hand crept down to his trembling balls and rubbed them reassuringly.

"You're supposed to warn me when she's coming," he complained bitterly.

"I know. I'm sorry. She must have realised there was someone tipping you
off. She told us that she'd eaten a bad curry last night, so when she raced
off the bridge I assumed she needed the bathroom."

"Yeah? Well it wasn't *her* shitting herself. She found your stuff," Tom
snarled back.

"Oh shit Tom, are you, um, are you still, um, in one piece?"

"No thanks to you," Tom spat. "Next time put your fucking underwear back on
before you leave, would you? I had to tell her they were mine and now she's
going to be doing spot checks."

"She believed you?"

"Yeah, well maybe," Tom replied.

"Doesn't she *know* that lilac clashes with your skin tones?" Chakotay
spluttered in outrage. "Honestly, that woman has absolutely *no* taste."
 

The End
(Thank God)