Aide de Camp
by Smaragd
---

This is a work of fiction, intended for humans who are over the age of 18 and who appreciate the finer points of male/male sexual interactions. If this doesn't describe you, please go elsewhere. . . now. And all apologies to Paramount, because it is.

---

Tom Paris frowned slightly as they moved into the nebula. The controls were responding well, but it still took most of his attention to keep the shuttlecraft on course and its drive engines stable.

"Do you want me to handle the field containment?" Harry Kim's voice probed Tom's concentration, but didn't break the structure he had built. Both hands, all his fingers, and both feet all had their places on the console, working together to keep the vehicle steady.

"No, I have it all under control." He continued after a particularly complex maneuver, "But don't go away, Harry. I'll let you know if things get sticky."

"So you want me to just sit here while you do all the work." Harry's voice was flat.

"Harry. . . I didn't mean that. Just. . ." Tom's voice trailed off as they hit another batch of turbulence.

Harry watched Tom work at the controls for a few more minutes, then his face brightened with an idea. A very good idea. "Everything still OK?," he asked carefully.

"Yeah. . . still on course," Tom replied, distractedly. A moment later, his concentration was seriously challenged when Harry leaned past him, an arm around his shoulders, breathing into his ear, "Just reading the plasma temperature, Tom."

And it only got worse when Harry left his arm there and checked several other readings. Tom took a deep breath and concentrated on flying once again. The shuttle had barely wavered off course. He could do this.

Then Harry placed a warm hand on Tom's leg and reached under the pilot's seat. "I thought the star charts were here," he muttered, rummaging in the slot. . . and let his hand roam farther up Tom's thigh.

Tom was starting to get a little panicky now, and it was taking all of his abilities to maintain their course and speed. He was just getting it under control again. . . when Harry split the fabric at his crotch, tugging gently as he freed Tom's cock from its confinement.

"Harry!" It was almost a screech. Harry ignored it and took Tom's stiffening shaft into his mouth, tongue swirling.

As Harry began to suck his cock in earnest, Tom struggled to maintain control. His entire being converged on the pleasure building in his groin and the actions needed to fly the shuttle. There was nothing else in the universe but these two things. . . the balance between them wavering, the white noise crowding his senses. . . then somehow, it all made perfect sense for a fragile microsecond as the shuttle blasted through the nebula and his release surged and splashed into Harry's incredibly sweet mouth.

They floated into the black stillness of deep space, Tom's body thrumming with pleasure.

Harry sat back, breathing unsteadily, licking his lips.

Tom laughed, "Harry, where the hell did that come from?" He shook his head, smiling at his partner, "But it was the best challenge I've had in ages. I'll have to write you into all the piloting sims."

"Happy to help, Tom," Harry smiled back. "That's my job."

---

End