Independence Day
by Shayney

Silly. Smutty. Sappy. A PWP if ever there was one. I pounded this one out in a couple of hours, on the spur of the moment, inspired by several stories that were running on CNN July 4, 2003.

Date Posted: 4 July 2003

No spoilers. Male/male relationship explicitly depicted.

Characters and situations owned by Paramount/Viacom. Used without permission. No copyright infringement intended.

"This is great, Tom. Perfect."

Tom smiled radiantly, pleased at Harry's pleasure. He took Harry's hand in his, and they lay back on their blanket, looking up at the clear night skies above them, listening to the music of the National Symphony Orchestra.

It was the Fourth of July, sometime in the late 20th century, the National Mall in Washington, D.C., Earth. It was only a holodeck simulation, of course, but it was a very good one. Harry had never been to a real 20th century fireworks display, of course, but judging from the 24th century ones his parents had taken him to when he was a kid, this was fairly accurate. Tom had made a few concessions for comfort - it wasn't nearly as crowded as it should be, and the weather was cool and clear, without the sweltering humidity more typical of Washington in midsummer - but other than that, it was just like the real thing.

An explosion of light and sound marked the beginning of the fireworks show. Fiery flowers bloomed briefly in the darkness, then faded, only to be replaced by even more spectacular blossoms of light. It was utterly breathtaking.

"Holotechnology was in its infancy at the time," Tom explained. "A few fireworks shows featured lasers, but mostly it was just chemical explosives."

Harry squeezed Tom's hand. "This is fantastic. You should have invited the whole crew. They'd love this."

"Maybe some other time. I want privacy tonight."

"Something special planned?" Harry asked.

Tom grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "Yeah. I thought we'd have a hotdog-eating contest."

Harry was confused for a moment, then suspicious. "Is that something dirty?"

Tom laughed. "Not as innocent as you used to be, are you?" He snuggled closer to Harry on the blanket. "Hotdog-eating contests were an Independence Day tradition in 20th century America. So I thought it would be a good way to celebrate."

"Let me guess. Your version of hotdog-eating contest isn't going to involve heartburn or excessive calories, is it?"

"Nope. But you can have mustard if you want."

"What are the rules?" Harry suspected he knew, and he was getting hard already, just thinking about it.

"We eat each other's. . . er. . . hotdogs. Simultaneously. The one who lasts the longest wins."

"What's the prize?"

"Winner gets to be on top."

"You're on," Harry said. He began stripping off his clothes. Tom did the same, and in an instant, they were lying naked on the blanket.

"Ready?" Tom asked, his breath warm on Harry's cock.

Harry shivered with arousal. "Yes," he replied, lips centimeters from Tom's own cock.

"On your mark-get-set-go!" Tom said rapidly, and swallowed Harry's cock deeply, swirling his tongue around it and sucking strongly.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Harry protested, then groaned as Tom's agile tongue found an especially sensitive spot. Realizing he had to catch up fast, Harry wrapped his lips around the thick head of Tom's cock, licking, sucking, and nibbling. Tom whimpered, and he began thrusting gently, eager for the stimulation.

I have him now, Harry thought triumphantly. He used his tongue to rub the tender place just under the crown, and the muscles in Tom's long thighs started quivering.

But Tom wasn't done yet. Suddenly, Harry felt skilled fingers rolling and squeezing his balls, then tickling that delicate area underneath. Harry had always found that unbearably exciting, and he almost bit Tom in surprise. "You're using your hands," he accused breathlessly.

"All's fair in love and war," Tom replied, then switched his hand and mouth, so his hand stroked Harry's cock, faster and faster, while his tongue probed and caressed and tickled Harry's testicles.

"Oh, god," Harry moaned, for a moment too overcome by the sensations to do anything. Then he pulled himself together, and resumed his attack. He did his best to ignore what Tom was doing to him, and concentrated on licking Tom's cock from tip to base. This usually made Tom come quickly, and sure enough, the rhythm of his mouth and hands on Harry faltered. Pushing his advantage, Harry used his fingers to stroke Tom's balls and brush softly over his inner thighs.

Tom groaned, trembling. "That does it," he gasped. "You're going to come, right now, whether you want to or not." His hand moved faster on Harry's cock, and a hot, slick tongue suddenly slid along Harry's perineum, then further back, circling his anus, then flicking over it, teasing, licking, probing.

Harry cried out, knowing he was lost. Tom was right, he was going to come, whether he wanted to or not. He could no longer resist the tremendous orgasm building up in him. As inevitable as the tides, as overwhelming as a tidal wave, it rose slowly, unstoppably, until it swept him away.

Harry lay panting on the blanket, still shivering with the echoes of that fierce, exquisite climax. It took him a moment to realize that the pyrotechnics he was watching weren't all in his mind. The fireworks were still going on. The finale, by the looks of it. He wondered if the timing was intentional.

"I win," Tom said smugly.

"If I lost, I hope I lose every night," Harry said.

"You lost," Tom insisted. "And I'm claiming my prize."

Obligingly, Harry tried to roll into a supine position, but Tom stopped him, turning him onto his back. "Raise your knees."

Harry did, and shivered as he felt Tom smooth the cool lube into him, sighing as Tom's fingers slipped inside. Harry bucked and moaned as Tom pushed deeper and found an especially pleasurable spot. Without being fully aware of it, Harry's hand wrapped around his own cock, which was hard again.

"Yes," Tom said. "Stroke yourself, just like that." Harry did, and groaned with sheer ecstasy as Tom slid slowly inside him. Tom paused for a moment, just looking at Harry. Impatient, Harry tried to use his legs, thrown over Tom's shoulders, to pull him nearer. "Okay, okay," Tom said, and finally, finally, began thrusting.

It felt like heaven. Gentle at first, then faster, harder, driving Harry toward the peak. He stroked his own hard, weeping cock in time with Tom's rhythm, until they were both shaking with arousal.

"You're so beautiful when you come, Harry," Tom panted. "Come for me again."

At those words, Harry that fateful tickle at the base of his balls that meant incipient orgasm. Two more strokes, and he was there, climax exploding through him like the most beautiful fireworks display in the universe. Tom gasped harshly, then he was coming too, shuddering and moaning with the intensity of it.

For a long time, they lay entwined on the blanket. It was dark and quiet now, with only the moon and stars twinkling down on them. Eventually, Harry spoke. "Happy Independence Day, Tom."

Tom was silent for a long moment. Finally he replied, "What would you say if I told you I was tired of independence, Harry?"

"What?"

"Make an honest man of me. Marry me."

Harry gaped, astonished. He'd always assumed Tom wasn't the marrying kind. Heck, Tom had told him as much, more than once. "But you said-"

"I changed my mind."

Harry thought about it. . . for at least one or two nanoseconds. "Yes," he said.

Tom gave a whoop of sheer joy, then searched through his discarded clothes, coming up with a simple platinum band. He offered it to Harry. "It's my grandfather's wedding ring. I'd be honored if you'd wear it as a symbol of my love."

Harry let Tom slide the ring on his finger. It fit amazingly well. "I had it adjusted, using your medical scan," Tom confessed.

"Confident, weren't you?"

"Nope. Just very, very, very hopeful." He leaned in to kiss Harry, deeply and thoroughly.

"Thank you, Tom," Harry said, when they came up for air. "It's beautiful."

Tom grinned. "You can tell everyone you won it in a hotdog-eating contest."

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