by Elynross
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OK, all. This is being posted for deagol. It's a work in progress, so please don't be too critical of the ending. It's not the end (as will quickly be noticed). It doesn't even have a name yet.

Also, being such, please don't distribute it.

The story is rated at the moment as R, and is dedicated to Ann Foster for sharing kinky thoughts will me when we were really supposed to be concentrating on rocket science.

Thanks and enjoy. Feedback is encouraged!

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The story begins as Tom and Harry arrive at Harry's quarters from the Mess Hall. Recall that they left the Mess Hall together after they admitted to each other that they've been trying to become more like each other since they boarded Voyager.

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"That seems strange, Harry. I mean, I'm not all that comfortable with women. I thought you knew it was pretty much an act."

"Act? I had no idea until you told me just now." Harry took of his uniform jacket and collapsed on his bed. Without meaning to, they seemed to have started an unusually serious conversation. Harry decided that he may as well get comfortable, because those conversations could end up being long, and occasionally awkward.

As it was, Tom had just made something of a shocking confession and Harry didn't want to waste the opportunity to learn more about his enigmatic friend. It was a rare thing for Tom to be open, and usually when he was, it was something very important. Harry held up his end of the conversation as best he could, trying to draw more out of Tom.

"I've been jealous of you for ages. Every time I'd think about you waking up almost every morning with someone's arms around you, I'd think of Libby and I could hardly stand it."

"What?" Tom paused and looked thoughtful as he sat on the bed next to Harry. "I guess since I'm into confessions tonight, I may as well tell you. I've woken up alone every day since I came aboard Voyager. Well, except for that one night you and I and B'Elanna were too drunk to move and we all slept in her quarters. But that really doesn't count."

Harry propped himself up on one elbow and scooted up against the wall so he could look at Tom. "I don't understand. I know about all your dates. I've even asked the computer to find you sometimes, pretty late. And you're still with them."

"Harry. . . Checking up on me?" he asked with a grin. Tom was glad for the momentary intrusion into the conversation. He took off his jacket, threw it on a chair, and tried to think of a way to change the subject. He had a strong suspicion that Harry wasn't about to let this drop.

"No, not exactly," Harry replied. "More that I couldn't sleep and I thought that maybe, if things hadn't worked out for you, that you might want to go get a drink or something." Harry paused and looked intently at his friend. Tom was looking uncharacteristically serious and it was driving Harry nearly out of his mind. He could see that the conversation was making Tom uncomfortable, but he had to know what could upset him enough that it was so obvious. He knew Tom well enough to see through the devil-may-care facade when Tom was unhappy (which Harry now knew was really quite often) but there was no facade now. Tom's discomfort was perfectly clear.

"But it always seemed to work out." Harry wished he hadn't sounded quite so disappointed as he said it.

"Oh, things worked out just fine. Just the way I wanted them to. That doesn't mean I spent the night with them. I guess you didn't ask after me late enough. I usually wait for them to fall asleep before I leave, and sometimes it takes a while. Some of the women on this ship are very fond of pillow talk." Tom couldn't help grinning at that. Long ago he had given up on trying to leave the bed of a woman who wasn't done talking. In mock exasperation, Tom let himself fall back onto the bed, his feet still on the floor.

"I don't get it. One of the things I liked best about being with Libby was waking up with her in the morning. Gods, I miss that. . .. But you don't. . .?" Harry was at a loss for words. There was something Tom wasn't telling him, and he didn't like it. Tom was staring blankly at the ceiling. As he started to speak, he turned his head to look directly away from Harry. He shifted uneasily, and moved one foot to the bed, with his knee up. Harry noticed that the normally benign position looked surprisingly defensive.

"Look, it's not the same - me with them, and you with Libby. You were supposed to be together; you meant to be together for a long time. It's not like that with me. If a woman wakes up with you in the morning, she thinks you love her. She thinks you'll be there the next day, and the day after that. Even if you told her the night before that that's not the way it will be. I do have some sense of honor, Harry. I don't lead people on like that." Harry thought about that for a minute. Tom was, oddly enough, one of the most honorable people Harry knew. He just covered it up. Harry never had figured out why.

"I know, Tom. You'd never hurt anyone deliberately. You're one of the nicest people I've ever met. Maybe that's why I don't understand. Why haven't you ever really paired up with someone?" Damn, Harry thought. He hadn't meant to be so blunt. From the way Tom shifted, Harry could tell that he hadn't expected it either. After a long moment, Tom sat up and turned toward Harry, almost hiding behind his raised knee.

"Truth, Harry? You want the truth? It's pretty pathetic.You might give up on making yourself over."

"I only want you to tell me if you want to. But I do want to know. Something's got you bothered, and you're my friend - my best friend, as a matter of fact. I'd like to help if I can" Harry reached over and put his hand supportively on Tom's shoulder. He was relieved to see Tom finally smile, even if it was a little forced.

"I've been hurt enough, Harry. I'm not up for any more. The last ten years or so haven't been so good to me, if you hadn't noticed. I'm not going to. . . Well. . . Look. I was engaged once. And once was enough. More than enough. I don't ever want to go though that again." Harry gave that some thought. It made sense, he decided, that a man who had been terribly hurt by a woman he loved would be afraid to love again. It even made sense for him to turn into the cocky flirt so many people knew him as. It would keep him from getting too close.

Harry knew what he was about to say was awfully sentimental, and probably not what Tom wanted or needed to hear, but he couldn't think of anything else that was any better. And he felt like he had to say something.

"Tom, I have to argue with you. Maybe what came before was bad, bad being an understatement, but the last three years have been pretty good to you as far as I can tell. You got your commission back, rank intact. You pilot one of the best ships in two quadrants. The captain respects you. Hell, the whole crew respects you, even if some of them wouldn't admit it for anything." Harry smiled as he watched Tom try hard not to.

"Yeah, Harry, you're right. The last three years have been pretty good. Except for a few. . .minor incidents." They both smiled at that. Seska, Akritiri, the other Voyager - the one Harry was really from, their recent encounter with the women of Teresia. . . But somehow they both knew those experiences had brought them together and given them something greater than they had taken away.

Tom turned away from Harry. He sat, head bent in thought, his hands on the bed at his sides. Through the stretched fabric of Tom's shirt, Harry could actually see the knots in his muscles. Harry knew their conversation had been stressful on his friend, and he felt guilty. His mind wandered and he remembered that he used to rub Libby's back whenever they had a fight. It had come to be a code between them, an apology, a reparation, the renewal of the bond between them. He didn't feel about Tom quite the way he had felt about Libby, but he thought it might work, anyway.

Tentatively, Harry reached over to Tom and pressed his fingers against the tense, knotted muscles in his shoulders. Tom made a quiet inquisitive sound and cocked his head over his shoulder to look at Harry. Harry simply returned a slight smile and shrugged as he dug his thumbs into the matching lumps between Tom's shoulder blades. Tom forced himself to relax under Harry's hands. Damn, he thought. If Harry could just find an excuse to rub her back, Harry could have any woman on the ship he wanted.

As Harry felt the tension drain from Tom's shoulders, he moved to massage his neck. As he did, he noticed that Tom had a dusting of golden hair over the back of his neck. Glancing down, Harry saw that same light covering of hair on Tom's arms. He found himself wondering how much of Tom's body was that way. When Harry realized where his train of thought had taken him, he started. Tom felt the sudden motion.

"Harry?"

"Huh? Oh. Um. Nothing. Here, why don't you lie down. Make this easier on both of us"

"Harry, I'm fine. You really don't need to do this"

"I stressed you out. At least let me try to undo the damage I did to your back in the process" Tom gave a short laugh and lay down on his stomach with his hands folded under his head.

"Hey," he said, grinning. "Who am I to argue with guilt?"

Tom was glad he'd conceded. It had been a while since he'd had a really good backrub, and Harry clearly had a talent for it. His fingers found every kink and knot in Tom's back. They found sore spots Tom didn't know he had. More than once, he'd gasped as Harry found a particularly painful knot.

As Harry massaged Tom's back and neck, he discovered that he was enjoying it. He found that a little odd. Even with Libby, Harry had never really liked giving backrubs. Too much like work. Not only that, but usually she'd fall asleep, leaving him aroused despite himself from touching her bare skin. Hmmm. Bare skin. He wondered what Tom's back felt like under that damnable shirt. But he does look awfully good in black, he thought. As he contemplated his attraction to his friend, and without realizing it, his strokes on Tom's back became slower, more sensuous.

Tom noticed the change immediately. It had been a long time since someone had touched him that way. He could feel Harry shift from being a concerned and thoughtful friend to being an aroused potential lover. He listened intently to Harry's breath, now quick and shallow. Gods, he thought, does he really want me? What would he do if I told him how long I've wanted him?

After several minutes of arguing with himself, Tom decided to stop withholding the soft sounds of pleasure he'd been swallowing. He could let Harry know, a little at a time, just how good he was making him feel.

At first, Harry didn't notice the quiet moans Tom had allowed himself to release. He was too absorbed in the feel of his friend's body. Unconsciously, Harry's ministrations were becoming more and more passionate. Each time he would change the pattern or the pressure, Tom would respond warmly, moaning quiet encouragement and pressing up into Harry's touch.

Harry was finally brought out of his reverie by the breathless sound of his own name. He was startled to find himself as he was. Somehow, he'd ended up straddling Tom's thighs, with his hands under his friend's shirt, stroking his damp flesh passionately. His own hair was moist with sweat, he was shaking, and his breath was catching. And he was hard as a rock. He froze and waited for a moment to see if he would wake up from this odd dream, for a dream it had to be. Just like all the other dreams he'd had in which he ended up in this position.

Tom wasn't quite sure what to do. Something had upset Harry. Something? No, not something, me, he thought. Me making him realize what he was doing. Damn!

They stayed still and silent for several minutes, each waiting for the other to panic and bolt. When neither did, Tom decided it was time for damage control. If only he could get a sentence out without saying something incredibly stupid. . .

"Harry? What's wrong?" Nothing stupid, eh? Oh, well. . . Too much to hope for, I suppose. At least it made sense.

Harry didn't say anything. He was shaking more noticibly now. Tom's hypersensitivity made Harry's tremors feel even more violent. What worried Tom was that they weren't tremors of arousal anymore; Harry was afraid. But whether he was afraid of what he'd been doing, or afraid of being rejected, Tom couldn't tell.

Harry couldn't think of a thing to say. He wasn't alright. He wasn't about to lie, but he couldn't think of a way to tell Tom the truth. He had wanted to touch Tom for so long. . . But he knew Tom had been raped in New Zealand. He knew that Tom would probably never allow himself to be touched that way by a man again, even a man who would rather die than hurt him.

So, instead of saying something, when anything would probably be the wrong thing to say, Harry lifted himself up and shifted to get off of Tom's thighs. Tom had been anticipating that. Despite his paranoia, he was sure Harry was genuinely aroused. He had had enough lovers to know that. The way Harry had been moving, the sounds he made when he breathed. . . He couldn't feel whether Harry had an erection or not, but he was convinced that he had. Tom decided to take the risk. As Harry released him, Tom quickly rolled over onto his back and placed his hands tenatively on Harry's hips.

He didn't hold Harry tightly enough to actually prevent him from leaving, but his sudden movement had startled the younger man into stopping. Harry looked down into Tom's face. His blue eyes were dark with arousal and wide with panic. They searched Harry's eyes, trying to read the emotions there.

"Harry?" Tom wished his brain would return; he decided now would be a good time for an intelligent question.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I. . .I. . .I don't know. I'm just sorry" Harry tore his eyes from Tom's and looked down. He suddenly wished he hadn't done that. Harry found himself staring down directly into his best friend's groin -- directly at his obvious erection. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Tom smiled when he saw Harry's reaction. He released his friend's hips and took his hands.

"Sorry? Harry, don't be sorry. Please don't be sorry" Harry finally looked at Tom. He didn't understand what was happening. He'd expected Tom to be furious. Instead, Tom was holding his hands and smiling.

"How can I not be sorry? I mean, I just. . . Gods. It's fairly obvious what I did, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Do I look upset?" Tom flashed Harry one of those brilliant smiles that could melt ice.

"No, damn it. And you should be. That's what I don't get" Harry realized neither of them had made any attempt to let go of the other's hands. He paused for a moment and sank back down onto Tom's thighs, bowing his head in confused frustration.

"Why would I be upset?" Tom's face was now the picture of innocence. Harry began to wonder if he really didn't know.

"Tom, I'm supposed to be your best friend. Here I am coming on to you, pinning you to my bed. What kind of friend does that. . . does that to a friend who's been. . .?"

"Raped?" Tom suddenly understood Harry's hesitation. He almost wished he hadn't shared that information. Almost. It had brought them together, and that closeness was worth the pain it brought with it. He remembered telling Harry about the first rape, three days after he was taken to the New Zealand Penal Settlement. He remembered Harry's face draining of color, and the tears that fell silently. He remembered not being able to stop, once he'd started his story. And that they'd ended up in each other's arms sobbing helplessly. He'd fallen asleep crying in Harry's lap and woken up the next morning alone. They had never discussed it again.

Harry only nodded, then looked away. Tom tugged on his hands, bringing Harry's gaze back.

"For one thing, I didn't know you were pinning me," Tom said, grinning. He sobered and continued. "If I asked you to stop you would have. We both know that. I didn't particularly want you to stop. I was enjoying myself. I thought that was obvious. And I thought you were, too" He smiled again and nodded at Harry's crotch. Although Harry had completely lost his erection, the point was taken. Harry looked into Tom's pale, crystal blue eyes and blushed and nodded. He hadn't realized Tom had felt his arousal.

Tom lightly ran his thumbs over the backs of Harry's hands. Without letting go, he brought a hand up to Harry's face and brushed his cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"It's okay, Harry. I didn't mind, and I still don't mind. If you want to stop, that's one thing. And that's okay, too. But I don't want to stop. There's no one I trust more than you, no one I care about more. And I guess I never told you, but you really are very attractive" His smile was slight, but genuine. His hand brushed Harry's cheek again. Harry turned Tom's hand over and pressed the palm to his lips.

Both men were suddenly aware that their arousal was returning. Together, their breath quickened.

"Harry? Are you sure?" Tom's eyes darkened again as he asked the question. He bit his lower lip, hoping to maintain his composure if Harry rejected him.

"If you are. If you really are. I've wanted you for a long time, Tom. But I decided I wouldn't do anything about it. I didn't want to hurt you. Or remind you.." His voice trailed off as Tom pulled him down by his hands. As much as he wanted to kiss Tom, the tension of the last few minutes had completely drained Harry. He simply let go of his friend's hands, sank down onto his warm chest, wrapped his arms around him, and held him.

Tom returned the embrace. Harry stretched his legs out and lay full-length on Tom, covering him completely. Tom reached up and stroked Harry's face and smoothed his hair.

Tom looked down at Harry's head on his shoulder. He still had a nagging doubt that this would last. Any minute now, Harry could recover his composure and take back what he had said. Tom waited a little while longer, holding Harry and running his fingers slowly up and down his back. After what seemed like hours, Tom couldn't stand it anymore. He brushed his lips gently across Harry's forehead and tightened his arms around him.

Harry hadn't been expecting that just then. He wasn't sure what he should do about it. He was, however, sure what he wanted to do about it. He tilted his face up and stared into Tom's eyes. Without any conscious effort, he slid up Tom's body, pushed himself up onto his forearms, and leaned down to kiss Tom.

The kiss was soft and shy and quick. They were each afraid the other would suddenly change his mind. When neither did, they kissed again. After a long series of light, gentle kisses, they became more adventurous and demanding. Harry pressed himself down into Tom's chest and Tom pulled Harry closer.

Tom shifted under Harry and began to lick his jaw and nibble on his flushed, smooth neck. Tom worked his way from one ear to the other, and pulled the collar of Harry's turtleneck down to expose more of his friend's warm, musky flesh.

"Tom?" Harry whispered. Tom either didn't hear him, or was deliberately ignoring him. Considering the thorough attention he was paying to Harry's neck, both seemed equally likely. "Tom?" Harry said, a little louder.

"Harry. . .do you want me to stop?" "No, no. That's not it at all. It's just that.."

"Well, then.." Tom interrupted, smiling softly and gently running his fingers through his new lover's hair, stroking his thumb along his cheek. "Don't say anything. Don't say anything at all. Just lay here with me. Hold me. Kiss me. Feel me. Let me make love to you. Just enjoy the way it feels to be together like this. We can talk later. I promise. Anything you want to talk about. But right now, please, just let me love you"

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End