by Judy
---
Disclaimer: The body suit, Sandrine's, the Ensign and the Lieutenant
(sigh), and everything, belong to Paramount. The story is mine.
© 1998.
Warning: Explicit male-male sex, a little prop, a little light
discipline. If male-male relationships and sex bother you, please read
elsewhere. If you are under 18, don't even think about reading it.
Comments are welcome.
Please Archive at ASCEM; BLTS; PKSP. Please leave all disclaimers and
warnings intact.
---
Sandrine's had been decorated for the old U.S. tradition of Halloween
with orange pumpkins, white ghosts, cemetery headstones, a corrugated
metal tank with apples in it, and lots of orange and black crepe paper
hanging everywhere. Dancing, talking, and drinking groups, couples, and
singles filled the dimly lit bar as the band played a slow one.
Harry held her in his arms as they danced across the holodeck floor. Her
skin tight suit felt smooth beneath the hand that rested on her waist. Her
blue, blue eyes were locked with his, a faintly puzzled look to her
expression. Her dancing was awkward, as if unaccustomed to moving in four
inch fuck-me heels to the music that floated in the room. Despite this
every now and again loss of rhythm, Harry kept to the beat. Jutting
breasts crushed against his chest as Harry pulled her closer to him and
rested his head at home against her shoulder. In her silver suit and blond
hair and his formal, black tuxedo and black hair, they were an attractive
couple on the dance floor, repeatedly catching the eye of other crew as
their dancing brought them into view.
When the music's tempo increased, Harry and his tall, shapely date
moved over to a table, Harry's hand lightly at her back, guiding her
to a darkened corner. She appeared to wobble slightly on her heels and her
gait seemed to hitch as if somewhat uncomfortable walking in this
situation. Solicitously, Harry held her chair while she carefully lowered
her tall, slender frame on to it.
"Would like you anything?" Harry asked almost in her ear so as
to be heard over the noise of the band and the crowd.
"I wish to leave this place," she told him, "Now."
"Let's stay a few more dances, it's good practice."
A baleful gaze met his dark eyes. "I am not enjoying this
practice," she told him firmly.
Harry smiled at her. "I'll get us some drinks," he offered
cheerfully, leaning over her chest to deliver his message. A silk mane of
black hair fell into his face. When he swept it back with his fingers, his
eyes caught movement not far away. There were other crew approaching their
table, a petite woman with dark hair in a Peter Pan outfit and a short
fireplug of a man whose usual appearance was costume enough.
"Incoming," Harry murmured. "B'Elanna and
Neelix."
His date placed her head on the table, then looked up at Harry.
"Ensign, it is time to leave. I wish to go to your quarters,"
her husky voice announced.
Harry didn't need to be asked twice, well, actually, he had been
informed twice that his date wanted out of here. It seemed that he finally
caught on, grabbed her hand, helped her to her feet, and plotted their
getaway.
"Harry! Seven!" Neelix called out, but his cheerful expression
changed to disappointment as Seven seemed to be almost dragging Harry out
the door, moving swiftly, albeit less than gracefully, in her hurry to
leave. When they disappeared out of the doors of Sandrine's, Neelix
turned to B'Elanna. "Well. What do you make of that?"
"Hot date?" B'Elanna guessed. "Maybe they'll
both get lucky."
Neelix felt bothered, "Is it my imagination, or did Seven seem
taller?" With a superior snort, B'Elanna commented, "Did
you see those heels?"
With that twosome gone, B'Elanna searched the bar for other familiar
faces. Her eyes landed on the Captain and Chakotay dancing to even the
fast ones. She smiled as she watched their very coordinated movements
dance to a body language all their own. Somehow, she hadn't gotten
that same impression when she'd seen Harry and Seven and she
wondered what was going on. Well, Harry was her friend, she'd pry it out
of him in the morning. She kind of hoped that there would actually be
something to pry out of the ensign. Based on Harry's reports so far,
there was nothing to tell.
Harry and his date reached the safety of Harry's room. Once inside
the doors, Harry turned on her with a throaty growl and backed her against
the wall with his body. His hands reached up to her face and pulled her
down for a kiss, a long intense, thorough kiss. When he finally pulled
back for air, he saw her face flush with desire, her eyes glint feverishly
through half closed lids.
"Hmm," she muttered, "let me get out of these
shoes."
She kicked off first one heel and then the other, losing four inches in
the process. Harry was kind of glad to have her more at her real height,
it was easier to kiss her mouth that way. He moved back in for more and
she obliged, opening her mouth to play dueling tongues with Harry. In the
meantime, Harry's hands roamed down from her head to her chest and
he massaged her breasts through her outfit. She moaned into his mouth and
he pressed his erection against her body, grinding in rhythm to a slow dance
beat.
Her fingers peeled away his tuxedo jacket and, once he pulled his arms
away from her, they both let the jacket fall off his arms onto the floor.
She worked her slender fingers on his cummerbund and on the pearl buttons
to his shirt, as each item followed the tuxedo jacket.
Harry moved to reciprocate and puzzled over how to peel the body suit off
of her. She wiggled impatiently and then placed her long fingers on top of
his, guiding him to the hidden zippers at the back, along the sides. As
Harry tugged the suit off her shoulders and down her arms, the outfit fell
away to reveal a slender torso with almost no breasts at all. When the
suit was free of her upper body, she used one hand to sweep a blond wig
off her head, tossed it and ran a hand through the short sandy hair now
freed from its prison. As Harry continued to pull the suit down below her
hips and removed a cod piece, an erect penis sprang free. Kneeling now,
Harry kissed its tip, and completed the process of undressing his partner,
as Tom began to complain.
"Harry, this is the last time I do something like this."
He shut up when Harry's mouth engulfed his cock and sucked on it as
if bobbing for apples on the holodeck. Groans of pleasure came from the
mouth of Harry's date. Totally free of the body suit, Tom leaned
against the wall and allowed Harry to have his way with him. Amidst more
groans and sighs of pleasure and only now muted complaints about what he
did for his partner, Tom reveled in the attention that Harry lavished on
him. If Harry's hands hadn't firmly gripped his hips he would have
slumped to the floor as his legs seemed to turn to quivering leola root.
Tom let his own hands fall to either side of Harry's head, only
appearing to guide Harry's ministrations. Harry's mouth moved
fully and autonomously over the heated anatomy of his date. With a scream,
Tom came, spurting hot cum into his lover's mouth. Harry licked and
swallowed and tongued a slow trail of wetness from Tom's crotch to his
mouth.
Tom wasn't sure how they managed to make it to the bed, he was only
dimly aware of Harry's hand leading him somewhere, of the hot feeling
in his ass, savoring the surprise he had for Harry.
Harry pushed him onto his stomach on the bed and Tom managed to find the
energy to move his ass in a proven effort to draw his lover in.
Harry shucked his shoes, trousers, and shorts, and kneeled between
Tom's legs, using his own knees to push Tom's legs further apart.
He wet his fingers and began to smooth them over Tom's buttocks as if
nesting there. Then he murmured in surprise. "Ah, what have we
here?"
Harry pushed at Tom's crack and felt the other man buck beneath his
probing fingers. He worked at Tom's anus and gave a satisfied grunt
when he partway pulled out a small, shaped cylinder. He played with it for
a few moments, pushing and pulling it in and out, turning Tom in to a
blubbering incoherent bed partner. "So, Tom, no wonder you were
walking funny. It wasn't just the shoes, was it?" He took pity on
Tom's writhing body and slowly, slowly withdrew the two inch plug. He
placed the hot object on the bedside table, took a moment to slick up his
fingers with the nearby lubricant, and murmured his appreciation at the
outcome of Tom's inventiveness.
He also warned Tom of the consequences of keeping such important
information to himself. Consequences could wait for a moment. To
Harry's eye, it looked as if the butt plug had opened up his partner
nicely, the peach anus was dilated and fluttered as he watched. A fist
full of Harry's fingers plunged into that inviting opening and
Tom's groans escalated as his pleasure and frustration increased.
"Now," Tom begged. Harry pulled out his hand and patted
Tom's butt, then swatted him hard. "You are so naughty, Tom, so
ba-a-d." He smacked the wriggling backside again and pressed his
knees once more against the inside of Tom's legs, forcing them further
apart. All the while he applied the flat of his hand to Tom's bottom,
reiterating with each swat just how naughty his date had been. Tom sobbed
and begged for Harry's penetration.
With Tom's butt turning a bright red, his ass dancing in need in
front of Harry's eyes, Harry deemed he'd tortured his partner long
enough. He slicked up his own painfully hard cock and pressed it against
Tom's welcoming opening. Then he dropped down, launching his cock
on a free fall inside his lover as he pounded into the slender body beneath
him. The heat off of Tom's backside fueled Harry's thrusts,
stoking his own internal fires. Harry let go of any remaining restraint
and took them both on a ride to ecstacy and beyond, filling his partner
with all the rocking cock he could take.
Tom had gotten hard again, and Harry reached under them to stroke his
partner. At the same time, Harry pumped furiously into Tom's ass.
Harry screamed Tom's name, Tom cried out Harry's name as they
came. Harry collapsed his sweat slicked chest against Tom's equally
dripping back.
When the world returned from wherever it goes during orgasm, Harry
nuzzled his lover's twice shaved chin. "You were great," he
told Tom.
"Hmm," was about all the response he got from Tom as Harry
rolled him unresistingly over on to his back. "Mmm, ouch," Tom
protested half-heartedly, for along with the satisfied afterglow he felt
from all that Harry had done, his bottom and rectum were both sore, and
his feet hurt besides.
Just a small price to pay to feel so wonderful, so loved.
"I hope you lose a bet more often," Harry confided in a sultry
voice. "You were so good as Seven."
Sleepy blue eyes felt as if they were melting in the chocolate fondue of
his lover's dark eyes. Tom acknowledged the compliment, after all it
had been accompanied by a warm kiss. "I surprised you, didn't
I?"
"Well, you can't walk or dance worth shit in high heels, but you
do a nice butt plug."
"Liked that, did you?" came the satisfied reply.
"It was . . . " Harry tried to retrieve a word from the
declining functioning of his brain, ". . . very, very bad. If you
ever lose a bet again. . . "
Interest perked in his lover's next murmured, "Hmm?"
"You will have to have let me put that in you for your
afternoon shift on the bridge." Harry's mind sputtered to life
with the images now flooding his brain. He saw Tom in his uniform, sitting
at his bridge station, flying the ship through the darkness of the Delta
Quadrant. All the while, Harry and Tom were the only ones who knew a two
inch - hmm, Harry thought, what about three inches - butt plug was
inserted up Tom's ass. Oh, yes, Harry could see it clearly. After a
moment of savoring his lover's quandary, Harry verbalized the
conditions. "It'll have to be a slow day, of course, so
you'll be able to fly the ship. But also so you won't be
distracted by anything but thoughts of what it will feel later when I
throw you down on this bed, pull off your pants, and take that plug out of
your ass . . . with my teeth."
Harry's vivid image made Tom shudder and groan, "Anything,
Harry, you know my butt is yours."
Harry heard the word 'anything' and filed that away for future
reference. A post-coital Paris was almost too easy. Unfortunately, Harry
knew he couldn't jeopardize the safety of the ship and crew by
actually enacting his fantasy. But there was always the holodeck. And Tom
had said, 'anything'. But then Tom had to go and spoil it all by
putting a condition on the 'anything'. "Just don't make
me play Seven again."
Harry kissed him with what he hoped would seem like reassurance. As he
lay there, the sweat drying on his skin, he knew he wouldn't recycle
the body suit, nor the wig, nor the heels, especially not the heels. Tom
in a Seven get-up had been such a terrific idea. After all, his lover made
such an alluring Seven (even if his attitude left about as much to be
desired as did Seven's). As Harry's mind began to drift, he began
to rehearse what he would tell B'Elanna in the morning about his date
with Seven. Boy, would she be surprised if he ever told her the truth.
Idly, Harry wondered how soon it would be before Tom could be tricked into
placing another unwinnable bet. Pretending to be a clueless ensign
certainly had its advantages. He had Tom right where he wanted him:
spanked, fucked and asleep in his bed.
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The K/7 code was a decoy! I didn't want you to catch on in the very
first paragraph . . .
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End
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