Tom Paris and Methos are deaged to their mid-teens. And they are like, treat as as adults! We still have all our memories! But they are wrong, the doctor says:
But they're in trouble! Because both Methos and Paris are immortal, but now they're sixteen-year-old immortals:
"Captain, we may look like children, but we are still the exact same people that left here four days ago. This is going to be hard enough as is without everyone treating us like incompetent children." Methos looked pointedly in the doctor's direction before continuing. "I am six thousand years old, I do not need to be told when to bathe and take a nap."
"If I may interrupt, Captain?" But the doctor did not wait for permission. "Your hypothesis is incorrect, Methos. You are not exactly the same. Have either you been having any emotional difficulty?"
Tom took the bait. "Well, we've been slightly sensitive, but that's about it."
"Are you sure, Mr. Paris? According to my readings, your brain chemistry has changed. As I said earlier, you have the hormonal chemistry of a young teenager. Emotional maturity has a base in brain chemistry. You may have the memories of adults, and the reasoning abilities of adults, but you are physically children, and that includes the physiology of your brain. Granted, your life experiences will help temper the volatility, but not completely. Do you understand?"
And Methos and Paris are concerned! Their bodies are different now! Their penises may not work right!
"Well, that brings us to you two. The obvious problem is that you are not going to age, are you?"
Duncan, the only one in the room for who the full implications were immediately understood answered gravely, "No, Captain, they aren't."
But Chakotay and MacLeod aren't into young boys! Really, honestly, they're not!
"Come on, let's take a bath, I'm hungry."
"All right. You know, Methos, yours is a lot smaller than it was. A lot."
"So's yours. You don't even look like you've hit puberty yet."
"Well, it works. I don't care if you don't believe me." [...]
He, at least, did have some hair on his body. And his frame was broader and better muscled than Tom's. He lifted one of his arms, looked under it, and was happy to find a few wiry dark hairs there. He continued the inventory of his body, and looked down into his lap. His belly was as flat as ever, but the crisp outline of abdominal muscles was gone. Instead, he had the smooth belly of a boy. His nipples, like Tom's, were just tiny round buds, his own dark instead of Tom's pink. He took a deep breath before examining the last part of himself he was concerned with.
Tom had been right, it was much smaller. Methos almost started to cry when he reached down and began to fondle himself. He tried to maintain a critical detachment, but it just wasn't possible. He couldn't help himself, he was a male. And as a male, he was very attached to his equipment, no matter how evolved he believed himself to be. [...] Methos shifted his hand down to cup his own balls, finding them considerably lighter than he had remembered. And hairless. Shit, he had a tiny thatch above his penis, but his balls were the hairless, very wrinkled balls of a child. He briefly chastised himself for being so concerned with his organs when the rest of his life had been shot to hell, but quickly recovered.
No, seriously, having sex with boys who've just barely hit puberty is WRONG, see:
Chakotay sank wearily back down into the couch, unable to quite wrap his exhausted thoughts around MacLeod's earlier appalling statement of fact. Methos and Tom, their bodies were never going to change; they were doomed forever to this hazy gray age between the children they now appeared to be and the men they once had been. And in their cases, forever might prove to be a very, very long time. [...]
In one God-forsaken twist of fate, he had lost his lover; Mac had no illusions, he knew as soon as he'd seen Methos. Never again would he be able to hold him, make love with the man he had loved so desperately and so well for four long centuries. It didn't matter a whit how long they had been intimate; that had been a different man. A man, his throbbing, aching brain supplied helpfully, quite unlike the innocent appearing adolescent currently sleeping in their bed. [...]
"Of course I can't sleep with Tom the way he is now." the Commander interrupted, his anger at their situation overflowing and pouring into bitter comments. "Spirits, what kind of a man do you take me for, MacLeod?" [...]
"Mac," he continued, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. "They're both so small. Maybe they'll be relieved we don't -- can't make love to them. I'm afraid even if I was willing, I'd hurt Tom."
But Methos has a PLAN:
Chakotay took Tom's wandering hand in his own and whispered, "Tom, you know how much I love you, don't you?"
"Yes." It was more of a question than an answer. Tom buried his face into in Chakotay's chest, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Well, I can't touch you like this anymore, please stop."
"Tom, it's not anything you've done. I just can't bring myself to think of you in that way. You look like a child. No matter how much I love you, I can't get past that fact."
"You don't find me attractive, do you?"
"I'm sorry, no, not sexually."
"Methos was right, he said you'd leave me. Want to be my daddy instead of my lover, well, Chak, I already have a dad, I don't need or want another one." Tom jumped off the bed and faced Chakotay down, arms crossed, feet wide. "Maybe you'll change your mind after you get used to it."
"I'm sorry, Tom. I don't think that will happen. I love you."
But MacLeod and Chakotay keep trying to play daddy instead!
Wiping his eyes one more time, Methos then threw the towel onto the edge of the tub and went out into the bedroom. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that Mac had replicated for him. He had no delusions about his appearance. Wandering around naked was not going to get Mac turned on. Not for a while, anyway. He had to seduce him with his mind, first. He had to get him to remember who he was inside, so he could forget the boy on the outside. Mac had to realize that a mature adult was still in there; a man with a man's needs. Then it wouldn't matter as much that he was disguised in a teenager's body.
So Methos and Paris decide to turn that against them:
"But for now, we're going back to our quarters and you two are going to do some cleaning. That should help work off any leftover energy you have today."
They both arched their eyebrows and Methos cracked sarcastically, "Oh, why not ground us, Mac? Or what was that trendy thing that they did a few centuries back? Put us in time out? Daddies used to do that, didn't they?"
"Don't start. This is an official reprimand. I'm not trying to play parent, here." Mac assured after Methos so graciously pointed out his slip. "Enough of this, come on, let's go."
They made their way out of the brig, Duncan with a firm hand on each of his captive's shirt collars.
Yup, that's right: this is a story where having sex with a boy is wrong unless he seduces you.
"Ouch! MaccLeoooddd!" Tom cried.
"Dammit, Methos." Mac rose to his feet, intent on his mission to save Tom from Methos' evil designs. "What are you doing to him this time?"
"If it's something truly, deeply wicked, do I get a spanking?" Methos asked, turning sparkling green pools of unadulterated mischief on MacLeod.
(Also it's a story where Paris and Methos get taken away by Admiral Paris, who is like "I am still Tom's dad!" And then he hits them, but not in a good way.)
So, anyway, this story was totally one of my guilty pleasures in like 2001, and I really enjoyed it in a lot of ways even though the writing style is not my bag. And I think, now, that one of those ways was the narrative kink, the ageplay, the virginity stuff, that is never played out -- Chakotay and MacLeod never have sex with deaged Tom and Methos, though Tom and Methos have sex with each other in a sort of puppy pile way. But it's all there anyway, right, all the stuff about tiny hands and keeping Methos in line and breaking the rules and whatever, Methos's attempts to game MacLeod by acting out, it's a complete roleplay scenario. It's just that the sex never happens.
Anyway, this is a thing I've been thinking about lately, about fic with this sort of narrative kinkiness, where the author/reader get off but the characters don't: Simpson flogs Hornblower, who doesn't enjoy it, but we do; Blair is kidnapped and brainwashed; John Sheppard is forced to worship an alien god; Obi-Wan has to get nipple rings to go undercover; Mulder is branded by Cancer Man. Examples and other thoughts welcome, as always.