by Merri Todd Webster

THE OVERTURE: I don't own these characters, or the ship they sail on; I do own the planet they visit and the experiences they have. May Paramount have mercy on our souls.

Not only are two men going to have sex in this one, but so are a man and a woman, and two men and a woman. Not to mention people talking about sex being holy. So you've been warned.

This story probably would not have been written were it not for Ny Martin's 'In Triplicate' series and torch's 'The Perfect Ceremony,' from which I borrowed Plot Device #116, "Aliens make the regular characters have sex with one another c) for religious reasons." Then again, it probably would not have been written were it not for "The White Goddess" by Robert Graves and "The Spiral Dance" by Starhawk. Thanks to Amirin and Ny Martin for beta-reading and encouragement.

It is triggered by the events of "Day of Honor" and following episodes.

---

"Hey, Harry, come on and join us at Sandrine's."

They were standing side by side, both smiling at him. Harry looked away, covering it by running a hand through his hair. "Uh, sorry, guys, but no thanks. Got a lot of reports to catch up on."

"Reports can wait, Har. Fun can't. Come on, come to Sandrine's."

Tom smiled his most winning smile and extended a hand to Harry. "Come on, Starfleet," B'Elanna echoed. "You look like you could use a break. And I'm tired of only seeing you in that uniform."

<Like you'd want to see me out of it,> Harry thought. Avoiding Tom's eyes, he looked at the outstretched hand, and then at his best friend's other hand, entwined with the Chief Engineer's. "Sorry.I've really gotta take care of this stuff now."

"Okay, Har. See you at breakfast?"

"Yeah, see you then."

Harry watched them go, their arms slipping around one another's waists, gold head leaning toward bronze. He couldn't bear to go to Sandrine's, again, and see the way they looked at one another, watch the hands that strayed together and the kisses they thought nobody noticed, yet he couldn't take his eyes off them, either, even though it hurt so much to watch. Shaking his head, he carefully smoothed his face into its usual calm expression and headed for his quarters.

The one report that had actually needed his immediate attention was quickly finished. Harry sank down into the hot water and tried to relax. He could keep his face composed and his tone normal, but he couldn't keep the tension out of his muscles. The pain had been building ever since Tom had told him what had happened when Tom and B'Elanna were stranded in space and nearly died while trying to recover the jettisoned warp ore. He ached constantly, working on the bridge with one of them, half the time sent to Engineering to work with the other, and trying and failing to distract himself by befriending a lonely and difficult former Borg. And they'd both given him hell for spending time with Seven instead of following them around like a little brother trying to horn in on his older sibling's date, which was what he actually yearned to do.

---

"What do you think is bothering Harry?"

Tom grimaced. "I wish I knew. I wish he'd talk to me about it. He's been tighter than a Horacian clam lately, and it's like he won't even get near me." He chugged down a mouthful of synth beer.

B'Elanna twirled her wineglass between her hands. "Do you think he might feel like I'm. . . encroaching on your friendship?" she asked carefully.

Tom looked away at the pool table, ostensibly checking out who was playing. "Well, maybe. But like I said, he won't even get near me, even when, like tonight, I make it clear that I--that we both want his company."

B'Elanna posed her next question even more carefully. "Do you think he might have feelings for me?" She sipped her wine.

"I really couldn't say," Tom replied, but he was looking at the pool players while he said it.

---

Harry pulled out some of his most difficult pieces of music, mostly written by non-Earth composers for instruments other than the clarinet. He needed something challenging to focus on, and he hoped the routine of practice would settle his mind. He put a piece by the Vulcan composer T'Zira on the top of the pile and spread it out; then, he went through the little ritual of getting started. The clasps on the case clicked sharply as he flicked them open one by one. The wood squeaked faintly as he fitted the sections of his instrument together and lined them up precisely. He checked and replaced the reed and tested the tone. His fingers took over and moved efficiently through his usual warm-up scales and exercises, setting his mind free to roam. . .

---

Tom tossed aside his socks and stretched out on the bed to wait for B'Elanna. She'd vanished into the bathroom as soon as they got back to her quarters, as she'd done every time they'd been together so far. She thought nothing of feeling him up in the turbolift or pushing him over a console and devouring his mouth when no one was looking, but she was oddly shy about the transition from public to private, from clothed to naked, and wouldn't undress in front of him, not yet.

She came out of the bathroom with a white robe loosely belted around her. Something had softened in her face, and Tom liked seeing that, that letting down of the barriers. She took his hand and settled down beside him, letting him draw her into a lingering kiss. He handled her gently, coaxing her to let those barriers down some more. He hadn't expected her to need so much coaxing; he'd expected the wild Klingon female who threw things around and bit and scratched, but he'd learned to like gentling her. If he handled her just right, the wildness came out later.

B'Elanna drew away sooner than Tom wanted. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just distracted by work, the alignments--" she heaved a sigh "--and worried about Harry."

Tom smiled and stroked her cheek. "Don't worry about Harry. He can take care of himself. Let me take care of you, right now."

The next kiss was deeper, longer. B'Elanna opened her lips against Tom's, and her arms went round his neck as his tongue slid into her mouth. He couldn't get enough of the way she tasted, tangy, spicy, like no other woman he'd ever kissed. Without hurrying, he slid his hand down the side of her throat, across her shoulder, pushing the robe out of the way. His fingers brushed along her collarbone, and his palm came to rest between her breasts. B'Elanna murmured into the kiss and shrugged just enough to loosen the robe a little more. Encouraged, his hand shifted to the left to expose and then cover her breast.

Soft sigh from one or the other or both of them. Tom bit at her lower lip and felt the pointed brown nipple stiffen under his palm. They reminded him of chocolate drops in shape and color, but they had surprised him with their texture and toughness. They demanded rougher stimulation than a Human woman could tolerate. He dragged his mouth down B'Elanna's warm skin, giving kisses with a little bit of bite to them, until he reached the other nipple. B'Elanna lay back, Tom going with her, and pulled open the robe herself, gasping as skin touched skin. She started growling softly as he used his teeth on her breast, thumbing the other one roughly at the same time. Grasping his head with firm hands, she thrust herself into his mouth.

---

Harry stared at the score before him as if he'd never seen musical notation in his life. He'd suddenly realized he hadn't been playing T'Zira's "Fourth Duet for Kshong and Ryill, transcribed for Clarinet and Harp," but a Mozart clarinet piece he'd often played for Tom and B'Elanna when they were all really stressed out.

"You definitely are stressed out, Kim," he said aloud. The harshness of his tone surprised him. With a sigh of resignation, Harry broke down the clarinet and put away the piles of sheet music. Sometimes even the discipline of music wasn't enough. Sometimes the pain was stronger than the joy.

With clarinet, chair, music, and music stand put away, the room was as neat as ever. Harry looked around for something to clean up, some busy work for his hands, and was perversely frustrated by his own orderly nature. A spot of color out of place caught his attention. He tugged at the bit of blue fabric peeking over the back of his couch, and out came one of Tom's sweaters, taken off and tossed aside during some evening's conversation, probably weeks ago now. Harry held it up by the shoulders and shook it out. The color matched Tom's eyes beautifully. He wanted to bury his face in it and inhale the scent left behind.

When he realized he'd started to cry, Harry flung the sweater from him and stumbled into the bedroom. Falling facedown on the bed, he tried to muffle the sobs that forced their way out of his throat, tried to banish the images that forced their way into his mind.

---

"Let me do this, B'Ela. Let me, please." Tom nuzzled the moist tawny thighs in supplication, tasting a hint of her sex on them. So far she'd been unwilling to do this, unwilling even to say why. But B'Elanna gave a little shudder, took her hands off his shoulders, and opened her thighs all the way, drawing up her knees. Finally. Finally he could see what he'd touched, caressed, penetrated, and give her the something more he'd wanted to give. Under the fine, sparse veil of pubic hair, her sex was undeniably female but not entirely human. Her clitoris was as dark and pointed as her nipples and larger than any he'd ever seen; the flushed lips came in three pairs, not just two, and the inner lips were swollen and pouting. She was wet, very wet, glistening, so beautiful, and the smell of her, like wet earth and cinnamon and sage, made his breathing quicken and his flesh harden still more.

"Oh, B'Elanna," he whispered, and pressed a kiss on her mound. Another little shudder from her, and he dipped his head and just brushed his lips across her sex, inhaling as he did so. Intoxicating. She was quivering like a plucked string as his tongue caressed her aroused flesh, savored the taste of her honey, rubbed the swollen node that swelled still more in response. Gods, how had he not noticed how big her clit was? It was huge. He nipped at it, heard her hiss of affirmation, and began licking her steadily, feeling the slight roughness of her skin and tasting her almost peppery flavor. She kept thrusting against his face, gods it was exciting, and her moans got louder and louder as he pushed into her further, more and more roughly. When he bit down hard on her clit, her scream nearly deafened him even through the tight grasp of her thighs.

Tom kissed his way back up B'Elanna's heaving belly and chest. "You were delicious," he whispered to her ear. His satisfaction was complete when she turned her head and licked her spices from his lips.

---

Harry rolled over on his bed, dazed. He must have cried himself to sleep. He got to his feet, mouth dry and bladder full, and went to the bathroom to take care of both problems. The cleansing and soothing effects of his earlier bath had completely worn off; feeling reckless at using so much water, he decided to take a shower.

Filling his hands with fragrant liquid soap, he concentrated on soaping thoroughly from head to toe. The herbal-scented bubbles felt good, sliding over his skin; he massaged himself, finding pressure points he had learned from his grandmother, easing away the stiffness. His touch gradually became slower and more sensual as he moved down his torso. His bangs dripping, he looked down and saw that he was stroking himself, fully erect and well on the way to a climax.

Throwing his head back, Harry leaned against the wall of the shower and gave in to the fantasies he'd been fighting all evening.

---

Tom smiled invitingly at B'Elanna, who was propped on her elbow beside him. From the way her hand was wandering over his chest, he suspected she might be ready to take charge. He had discovered that if he took the lead in a first round, she was often eager to do so for a second. It seemed that tonight, he wasn't going to have to wait to be taken.

"Had enough, Paris?" she purred, showing just the tips of her white teeth in a smile.

"Of you? Never," he replied. Her hand strayed tantalizingly lower.

"Do you say that to all your lovers?" she teased.

"Only when it's true," he said, meeting her eyes with his own.

B'Elanna's hand curled around his aching cock, warm and strong. "I haven't quite had enough, either," she said, "so I hope you're ready."

She was all over Tom before he had time to draw another breath, her hand on his cock like an anchor as her fierce mouth claimed him. The first kiss left him gasping, within a heartbeat of orgasm, yet somehow he held on while she nipped his shoulders, not hard but her teeth were much sharper than his own. Her harsh tongue traced fire over his skin, rasping at his nipples like a cat's, her spine arched gracefully and her hair swaying like a mane. Tom barely had breath to moan, until he cried out as she bit his chest, breaking the skin. Then she knelt between his legs, letting him see his own blood on her teeth as she bent to his cock, and he didn't care, he really didn't care if she ate him alive.

---

Tom was behind Harry, holding him up with one strong arm across Harry's chest and one around his waist. B'Elanna was kneeling in front of Harry, her warm lips, sharp teeth, and hot tongue exploring his belly and thighs, spiraling slowly inward to his cock. Long, clever fingers gently chafed Harry's nipples, and soft firm lips, Tom's lips, were kissing his hair and neck and shoulders in a way that made him shiver as much as B'Elanna's licking the length of his shaft. Harry moaned, not knowing which name to call, which one he wanted more. A hot wet touch on the tip of his cock, and a hot wet touch on his ear, and he could feel himself leaking wetness, so helplessly aroused. As B'Elanna slowly, deliberately sucked him into her mouth, Tom's hand left Harry's chest and traveled down to his ass, lightly squeezing the firm muscle. Harry trembled as B'Elanna moved up and down, her hair whipping his thighs, and Tom traced the cleft of Harry's buttocks, probing carefully. Another hot lick of his ear, and he heard Tom whispering, "You want to be inside her, don't you, Harry? You want to come in her mouth, you want to fuck her wet pussy. I know you do. You'll love it. She's so hot and so tight, a man can't last a minute. And you know what, Harry? While you're inside B'Elanna, I wanna be inside you. . ."

A slick finger found the entrance and pierced Harry with pleasure, and the fantasy shattered as he came, the cooling shower spray washing away his semen and his tears.

---

Sighing, Harry picked up the brush and began working on his hair. He'd never thought of himself as vain, but he'd been through three outfits and was thinking of rejecting the fourth. What had possessed Chakotay to assign him to the same shore leave party as Tom and B'Elanna? Was the Commander just out of the loop, or was he trying to rub Harry's face in the fact that he was not a member of a happy couple?

Realizing he was pouting at his own reflection, he slammed down the helpless brush. <Face it, Kim, you think neither of them would notice if you showed up stark naked. 'Course, the other people beaming down probably would.>

Deciding against slicking his hair down, he stepped back and took one last look in the mirror. The snug trousers and open-fronted vest were kind of daring, for him, but the planet Vica had a climate closely similar to Earth's Mediterranean region. It would be good to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, and he could use a little color. Shrugging, Harry scooped up a satchel containing his clarinet, some spare reeds, and a bag of the local coins, and headed out for the transporter room.

"Is that a dress, B'Elanna?"

B'Elanna scowled, unconvincingly, and Tom grinned. "That's what I said when I saw it."

Harry allowed himself an admiring look at both of them. B'Elanna's dress was a rich dark red with the low neck, wide sleeves, and full pleated skirt of traditional Klingon fashion. The bodice was decorated with bands of dark green embroidery. A thin torque of gold circled the base of her throat, drawing attention to its line and to the nearby curve of her breasts. Tom looked equally handsome, though less formal, in loose gray trousers and a vivid blue shirt, open down the front, that brought out the hue of his eyes.

B'Elanna was appraising Harry's attire. "That's a beautiful vest," she remarked, feeling the velvet texture of the brown fabric and tracing the gold embroidery with her fingers. Tom, too, appeared to be studying the pattern of the embroidery, unless he was actually looking at Harry's exposed arms and chest. Harry hoped he wasn't blushing.

"You're coming with us, aren't you, Harry?" B'Elanna asked.

"Yeah," Tom echoed, "we're in the same party, so let's take advantage of it. Let's all three of us spend the day together."

Harry couldn't resist two warm, eager smiles, two insistent pairs of eyes. "I'd be glad to, if you two really want me along."


A few minutes later, they were standing in bright hot sunshine on a plain of golden grass. About a kilometer ahead of them was the road into the city, a thin ribbon of moving figures that were going much too slowly to be vehicles. Away to their left, perhaps 2.5 kilometers distant, were shimmering white walls splashed with bright colors, enclosing the city of Marinna.

"That's it," B'Elanna said. "We just get on the road and go with the traffic."

"Let's go, then," Tom said. He reached out for B'Elanna's hand, and B'Elanna took Harry's, and they set off.

---

People of all ages and sizes were headed on foot into the city of Marinna. Alone and in groups, pushing or pulling small carts, they smiled, talked, sang, and laughed as they walked along. All the shades imaginable of red hair glinted in the sunshine, auburn and orange, chestnut and strawberry, bronze and flame-red, and the friendly eyes that glanced at them were mostly clear and light-colored. Harry noticed that some of those glances lingered a little, but there was certainly no hostility in them. No, if anything, those glances were very, very interested.

"I feel overdressed," B'Elanna muttered. Tom nodded and Harry grinned. With the exception of a few very elderly people, everyone they saw, male and female alike, was bare to the waist. The women wore skirts, mostly long and full, many with frills and flounces; the men wore kilts that grazed the knees at their longest, or just loincloths that left little to the imagination. All the clothing was dyed in gay colors, and even the children, let alone the adults, jingled with jewelry.

Harry would have stopped worrying about whether he was showing too much skin, except that he looked so different from everyone around him. Tom and B'Elanna, despite the differences between them, might have passed for extremes of the local complexion, but black hair and eyes were definitely exotic. He wondered if he was the reason those friendly glances lingered, and people seemed inclined to let them by very easily. Or maybe it was just that it felt odd to have B'Elanna's warm hand in his while her other hand was linked with Tom's, to be walking hand in hand with the two dear friends he hadn't seen much of lately because they'd been all over each other. It just felt strange.

Still, it was hard not to get into the festive spirit around them. There was more laughing than talking, more singing than laughing among the local people. The atmosphere was almost one of pilgrimage; Harry wouldn't have been surprised to meet the Wife of Bath, and he saw a few women who looked like good candidates for the role. Tom asked him what projects he'd been working on with Seven, in a mild enough tone not to push any of Harry's buttons, and the time passed pleasantly till they reached the city gates.

"Would you look at that," Tom said. All three of them stopped and craned their necks to do so, while people passed around them.

The city gates were composed of a giant relief sculpture, higher than the walls and wider than the road. The gate itself was formed by the spread legs and open sex of a woman crouched as if to give birth. On either side of her, a massive male figure with bulging arms and a flagrant erection supported the woman's raised, bent arms with one hand and clasped the hand of his counterpart in front of the woman's large breasts. The female figure was painted red above the waist and green below; one of the two male figures was painted black and the other gold. Anyone who entered the city had to pass beneath these figures, notice them, be dwarfed by them. <Wonder what they represent,> Harry thought.

Within the city, everything was white walls and red tile roofs, bare shoulders and swirling skirts. Tom and Harry and B'Elanna followed the main flow of traffic into a broad circular plaza occupied by a fair or market. Wooden booths topped with gaily striped canvas awnings stood in concentric circles within the larger circle of the plaza. Everywhere the air rang with the cries of merchants, the echoes of distant music, and the hum of conversation. People seemed to be moving around the plaza clockwise, visiting clusters of booths grouped by theme. The three of them came first to an area like a farmers' market, where fresh and cooked foods were on display. They passed booths with heaps of vegetables, red, green, and yellow, booths displaying cuts of meat hung up to dry, booths offering glistening fruit that was blue or violet, booths with elegant arrangements of lacy dried flowers. Tom insisted on buying B'Elanna a garland of flowers, orange and honey-gold, a perfect complement to her skin and hair. She scoffed at him but agreed to wear it anyway, her face shining.

They stopped for a break at a chilled soup vendor, getting little bread bowls full of a creamy concoction and mugs of fruit juice ornamented with tiny paper umbrellas. Harry made bold to save the little umbrellas and tuck them into B'Elanna's garland. Drawn by the sound of music, they then drifted over toward a stage at the rim of the plaza where a group of women was performing. Harry ogled the instruments with keen interest while Tom and B'Elanna tapped their toes to the infectious beat. There was something akin to a hammered dulcimer; a double-reed instrument with a penetrating nasal tone; an alto or tenor range recorder; and a kind of fiddle held upright on the thigh and bowed underhanded. The group also had a singer, a striking woman almost as dark as B'Elanna, with wild curly hair and a rich alto voice. Before the stage, half a dozen men in the skimpiest of garb were doing something that resembled morris dancing, making the metal bracelets that covered their arms almost from wrist to shoulder jingle noisily.

Around the troupe of dancers, many other people were also dancing in a less organized fashion. Grinning, Harry nudged Tom. "Why don't you two join them?" Before B'Elanna could protest, Tom had dragged her away, flashing a grateful look over his shoulder. Harry stood watching them for a few minutes, torn between pain and joy at how gorgeous they looked together, dark and fair, blue and red, both of them laughing with open mouths as they swung round and round with joined hands. Presently he got out his clarinet and assembled it, putting in a new reed, and edged his way to the front of the stage. He hoped they didn't object to male musicians on principle.

Between tunes Harry waved his clarinet at the dulcimer player, who was seated close to the edge of the stage. "Mind if I sit in?" The dulcimer player grinned and waved him up. The other musicians smiled a welcome as he climbed up and took a position between the other two woodwind players, toward the back. The singer counted off six-eight, and the band struck up a gay pentatonic tune. By the time they played it through once, Harry was able to join in, and after a few more repetitions, he began to improvise over it.

When Tom and B'Elanna noticed that Harry was onstage, they slowed down and drifted toward the edge of the stage in order to hear him better. They were not alone; not a few people stopped dancing for a tune or two in order to listen to the new player. Harry joyously followed the band through a set of six tunes, all of them easy but fast, improvising harmonies on the spur of the moment and once taking a wild duet with the double-reed player. Everything else was forgotten for a while in the joy of creation, a joy Harry had always been able to count on. When they roared to a stop, at last, he was flushed and panting, his fingers hot. The recorder player pounded him on the back, laughing, and the crowd made wild bird-like whistling noises. The double-reed player scowled over her worn-out reeds, then grabbed Harry for an unexpected hug. The dulcimer player whistled, too, flourishing her hammers, and said, "If you can still breathe, friend, give us some tunes from your part of the galaxy."

Harry gulped some fruit juice offered to him by the smiling singer while he thought briefly about what would work. Then, he launched into a suite of dance tunes by Michael Praetorius, from sixteenth-century Germany. The Vicari musicians had no trouble following him or improvising harmonies, although the results might have surprised the composer. The male dancers grabbed partners from amongst their own number and from the crowd and improvised steps, and Tom and B'Elanna went whirling away again, caught up in the spirit of the music.

After that set, the singer offered Harry some more fruit juice. "Can you sing, traveler?" she asked.

"If you sing first," he replied, still panting.

The singer spoke to the dulcimer player, who introduced a stately melody that reminded Harry of a pavane. The universal translator fumbled a bit with the poetry of the lyrics, but Harry got the gist as he followed the other players into a restrained accompaniment:

"If you should tell me where you are going,
Then I would follow even past sunset.
If you should tell me where I can find you,
Then I would bring her and we would join you.
If you should tell me, I'd gladly listen
To what your heart says
When you lie lonesome.
But you don't tell me
and I can't follow
and we can't join you
And all lie lonesome."

The singer ended on a note low in her register, her tone throbbing. The whistles from the crowd were muted, now. The singer bowed, then stepped back and gestured for Harry to come forward. He stepped to the front of the stage, drew a deep breath, and sang the first thing that came to his mind:

"Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you, oh, so long,
Delighting in your company."

The fiddle and the recorder provided a muted accompaniment as he went into the chorus:

"Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady Greensleeves?"

Harry accepted the singer's embrace and left the stage to more of that sad, muted whistling. Tom and B'Elanna caught up with him as he was breaking down his clarinet and the band was going back to lively dance music.

"Way to go, Harry!" Tom said, pounding his friend on the back. "I knew you could play, but I had no idea you could improvise like that!"

"Or that you could sing," B'Elanna added. "You have a beautiful voice, Harry." She leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly.

Surprised, Harry wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and cover her with kisses. <I'm sure she'd break my arms in three places each.> Instead he took the flower garland that now dangled from her hand and placed it back on her head, smoothing down her windblown hair. "Thank you both," he said, turning from B'Elanna to Tom with a smile of such warmth that the other man was a little startled.

The three of them spent another couple of hours on the agreeable activities of walking, shopping, talking, and eating. Harry bought a handsome wooden flute, much too cheaply, he was sure, but he couldn't get her to accept the larger price he thought was fair. "Use it to win your lovers' hearts," she told him, winking so broadly that the gesture had to mean the same thing it meant on Earth. B'Elanna spent a long time talking with an elderly sculptor about the method he used to create his crystal sculptures, and finally accepted an abstract piece made of green crystal as a gift. Tom picked up a simple blue-glazed ceramic mug without any fuss at all, though the young vendors stared after him rather longingly as he moved on.

B'Elanna polished off a hot, stuffed pastry in three bites and surreptitiously wiped greasy fingers on her skirt. "The old sculptor told me some really interesting things about the uses of crystal in the local technology. He said I could learn more from the elders in the north quarter of the city. Would you two mind if we separated a while?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "That's just like you, B'Ela-- always thinking of work, even on shore leave. You go ahead. Why don't you meet us by the stage around sundown?" Harry nodded his affirmation, still chewing, and B'Elanna swept off into the crowd, followed by two admiring gazes.

"She's. . . magnificent," Tom murmured.

"She certainly is," Harry agreed. Tom looked at him almost warily.

"Hey, Har, why don't we go find someplace we can talk." Before Harry could protest, Tom had taken him by the arm and begun to lead him steadily toward the edge of the plaza, heading westward. They passed between the booths selling bread and produce and meat and soup, away from the lively city center. Tom wasn't saying anything, but Harry had a bad feeling that he would soon be asking some very uncomfortable questions. He had an even worse feeling that he would be unable to keep himself from answering them.

Presently they found themselves on a white gravel path bordered by small, frilly trees with lacy red blossoms. The trees grew so close to the narrow path that their drooping branches all but brushed the two men's faces. Harry and Tom were soon walking side by side, shoulders brushing, as neither one took the lead.

They passed in silence through an arch carved in the shape of a woman, like the city gates, and headed toward a small lake that shone against the golden grass like a flat, fallen moon. Far on the other side of the lake were more buildings, low and white. Tom walked right up to the rim of the lake, a low barrier of red and green stones, and stopped there, looking down at the wate. Its still surface faithfully reflected the Earthlike blue sky with white clouds, the gold hair and blue eyes of the one man, the black hair and brown eyes of the other.

Just when Harry was about to burst from the tension, Tom spoke. He didn't look at Harry but at Harry's image in the water. "Harry, are you in love with B'Elanna?"

Harry lowered his head. "If you must know, yes."

Tom turned to look directly at his friend and tentatively touched his arm. "Are you mad at me for being the one she wants to be with, right now?"

Harry turned and walked away a few yards, folding his arms over his chest. <I notice you don't say she's in love with you. You don't trust it, do you?> "No. Believe me, no."

"You have every right to be," Tom pressed. He followed Harry a few steps. "Gods know I've tried everything, the past four years--"

"Yeah." Harry laughed mirthlessly. "So have I."

Puzzled, Tom ran a hand through his hair. Harry's tense back denied him the reassurance he wanted. Tentatively, he put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Are you still my friend, Har?"

Harry made a strange noise. "Always," he said, raising his hands to his face. Tom was appalled to realize that Harry was crying.

Wanting only to help, Tom put his arms around the younger man. As if the touch released something in him, Harry began sobbing in earnest. "Harry, please, tell me, so I can help you, what's wrong?"

The answer was muffled against his shoulder but still understandable. "I'm in love with you, too."

Tom stepped back, reactively--realized how it might look and made sure his hands were still on Harry's arms. Harry was shaking. "You're in love with me?" Tom whispered.

Harry raised a tear-stained face and met Tom's eyes. "Yes."

Tom licked his lips. "You're in love with-- me and B'Elanna."

Harry nodded, snuffled. "I'm in love with both of you."

"But--" Tom began, stopping when he realized he had no idea where he was going with this sentence.

Harry pulled away from him. "But what? But this is Harry Kim you're talking to? Ensign Harry Kim, class valedictorian, Starfleet poster boy? Good old reliable, dependable, conventional, boring Harry Kim? Well, that was the Harry Kim who went out on Voyager on his first assignment, chasing the Maquis in the Badlands. That Harry Kim had a family and a lover and a real clarinet and dreams of a normal life--career, marriage, children. But that Harry Kim never came back from his first mission. He never saw his parents or the woman he loved again.Instead, some semi-omnipotent entity threw him 70,000 light years from home!"

By that last sentence, Harry was yelling, fists clenched, yelling into Tom Paris's astonished face. Something in Tom's widened blue eyes made him realize what he was doing, relax a fraction, go on more calmly.

"I never expected to be thrown a lifetime's distance from everything I'd ever known. I never expected I'd be looking at sharing my life, indefinitely, with 150 other people but without a doctor or a ship's counselor, on a ship so small you can't sneeze without somebody four decks down saying, 'Bless you'. I never expected to meet, and then fall in love with, not one but two of the most brilliant, beautiful, and lunatic people I've ever met." He smiled ruefully. "But I did. And I'm not the same person I was, as a result. That Harry Kim is--dead, in this universe or any other."

Tom wasn't sure what to say. He'd never seen a look like this on Harry's face, not even in that filthy prison, never thought he'd see so much pain. It occurred to him that he had taken a perverse comfort in feeling certain that even if he himself had to suffer, Harry Kim never would. Even if he'd had a wretched life, Harry Kim had had a happy one, and would continue to be happy. As if nothing Tom Paris did, nothing that was done to him, could touch Harry. The hurt in Harry's wet eyes made a mockery of that. <He's hurting and I've done it. How can I live with that?>

Tom swallowed hard and said quietly, "How long have you felt this way, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't even know. Maybe since the moment I saw you, both of you. I was sure how I felt about you after-- the prison, but it felt like I'd always felt that way. About B'Elanna, I don't know. I guess it just dawned on me one day how much she meant to me."

Tom plopped down on the grass, astonished. He ran his fingers helplessly through his hair. "But, Harry--how could you keep it to yourself this long? Why didn't you tell either of us--I'm assuming you've never told B'Elanna?"

Harry nodded. "No, I haven't told her. And you should know why. Come on, Tom--would you be her lover right now if she hadn't made the first move?"

The other man grinned involuntarily. "No, I like all my limbs right where they are, thanks. But what about me? Why haven't you told me before this?"

Harry sat down, too, not quite looking at his friend. "For a lot of different reasons. Your reputation with women, for one." Tom snorted, but Harry went on. "Not everybody has lovers of their own sex. And the rumor mill never linked you with any men."

"Well, it was right about that, at least," Tom mumbled.

"And then there was what you told me about Auckland. Between that incident and the way you chased women, I figured if you'd ever been interested in men as partners, you weren't any more. And then, just as I was thinking about risking it anyway, we took shore leave on Akritaria." Harry bowed his head, resting his forehead on his knee.

Tom shook his head. "Harry, if anything, that should have brought us closer-- Wait a minute." He stopped, clenching his jaw, appalled at the thought that had just occurred to him. <You fucking idiot,> he told himself. <You just couldn't face the possibility, could you? And you knew it all along.> "Dear gods, Harry-- were you-- did you--"

"Yes."

They sat there in utter silence for a couple of minutes. Tom felt like his heart had been torn out and lay bleeding in his lap. Harry, on the other hand, felt he had never had a heart. There was an empty space within him as still as the lake.

"It wasn't rape." Harry swallowed painfully. "I mean I did it willingly. To keep you alive, to keep us both alive. That didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt every part of me. Because I thought you must have known. How else could I have gotten the bandages, the blanket, the extra rations? What else did we have to trade? Well, I survived. Chakotay helped. I talked it all through with him, and you never even noticed. I thought you must know what I'd done. I thought you had to despise me for it, or else surely you'd have said something. And I thought I'd never want a man's touch again after that, not even yours. Well, I was wrong about not wanting you. Not a day goes by that I don't--" He couldn't bring himself to continue.

Tom had turned so ghastly white that he looked as though he might vomit. With shaking hands he reached for Harry, cupped the man's terribly still, cold face with all the tenderness he could muster. "You're wrong about the rest of it, too," Tom said hoarsely, and pressed his mouth to Harry's.

Harry's lips were like ice, nearly numb, but they started to thaw under Tom's. <Oh, please, no,> Harry thought helplessly, <I don't want to deal with this, I don't want to feel any more, ever. . . > But Tom's mouth was so warm, so gentle, so firm, and so gently insistent, insistently persuasive. Harry's lips parted, letting out just the ghost of a moan, letting in a silky tongue that found his and caressed it. Harry didn't notice when his arms went around Tom's neck, pulling the other man against his chest, and Tom's hands slid up Harry's cheekbones into his hair. Their mouths were crushed together, relentlessly, each devouring the other with such pent-up desperation that neither of them noticed the troop of spear-carrying women in leather armor racing toward them across the golden grass.

---

Captain Janeway had dressed for shore leave in comfortable shirt and slacks. She was considering doing something unusual with her hair when an apologetic voice paged her. "Chakotay to Janeway."

"Yes, Commander?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Captain, but I need to see you before you go. There's been trouble planetside with some of our crew."

"On my way." Trying not to grind her teeth, Janeway tossed aside the fancy comb she'd been toying with and pulled her hair back into a barrette as she headed out the door.

Chakotay looked downright remorseful when Janeway met him in her ready room. "What happened?" she ground out.

"The universal translator was way off, Captain. The large settlements our shore leave parties beamed down to aren't cities. They're temples. Every single one. Sacred space. And Paris, Kim, and Torres have managed to violate not one but two sacred areas and upset three-quarters of the priesthood of Marinna temple."

Janeway groaned. "What exactly did they do?"

Despite himself, Chakotay's lips twitched. "Torres blundered into an area reserved for elders-- infertile women, and men, of advanced years. Paris and Kim somehow wandered into the women-only precinct and were-- kissing passionately when the temple guards caught up with them. The priesthood was afraid they weren't going to stop there."

The Captain raised her eyebrows. "Do the religious authorities want to talk with me?"

"They want the offenders to make amends, but they were content to handle this between themselves and those three. It was Torres who contacted me and practically begged me to get you down there. She refused to say why, but the three of them aren't very sanguine about the amends they're being asked to make."

Janeway sighed gustily. "Very well. Will you come with me, Chakotay? You're much better at dealing with religious types than I am."

He smiled. "You'll get the hang of it eventually."

---

The Captain and the Commander were allowed to beam directly to coordinates within the southern quarter of the city/temple. It was after sunset now; the great gates of the temple were closed for the night, and the small courtyard where they materialized was illuminated by colored lanterns. A girl who looked about fifteen came out of the small, red-domed white building before them; Janeway was a little startled by the contrast between the girl's elaborate hairstyle and her small naked breasts. The girl led them inside the building and down a short corridor that ended in a spacious gallery beneath the dome, then up a gradually spiraling ramp to the second floor. Looking around, Janeway noted the handsome sconces on the wall, small lamps that reminded her of art deco, and wondered about the extent of Vicari technology. The girl stopped outside a smallish doorway covered by a velvety drape, which she held aside for them.

Janeway strode confidently into the room, Chakotay at her heels, and was taken aback by the intimacy of the space she had entered so boldly. It was a small low-ceilinged room with no furnishings other than a large round table, about knee-high, set with trays of food and drink. Three people sat on cushions around the table, a man and a woman of Janeway's age, or a little older, and a frail-looking elderly woman wrapped in a fringed shawl.

"Welcome to Marinna Temple, Captain, Commander. Come sit with us and share our hospitality."

The elderly woman had a warm, strong voice that made Janeway relax a trifle. The Captain settled herself on a large flat pillow and accepted a ceramic goblet from the elder. Were the old woman's eyes just faintly amused? Janeway devoutly hoped so.

After both her guests had drunk, the elder went on, "I am Viresti, presiding priestess of the Elders' Sanctuary for this quarter and senior priestess of Marinna Temple." She inclined her head, and the imposing woman to her left spoke.

"I am Daritha, presiding priestess of the Women's Sanctuary for this quarter." Janeway felt her spine stiffen at the note of the authority in the other woman's voice. She recognized an unbending will when she encountered it.

"And I am Lirigon, presiding priest of the Men's Sanctuary for this quarter." He favored Janeway and Chakotay--more Chakotay, the Captain guessed--with a smile that reminded her disconcertingly of Tom Paris. He even had Paris's coloring.

Viresti poured fruit juice for everyone and resumed speaking in a calm tone. "Your children have informed us that you did not know Marinna was sacred ground."

Startled, Janeway realized "your children" referred to Paris, Kim, and Torres--figuratively, she hoped. "That is correct, Viresti."

"We have no large settlements that are not temples, though there are sacred places which are not temples. The temple hosts art and commerce as well as ritual, counseling, and education. The temple is the center of our sacred wheel of life."

Viresti glanced at her guests to see how they were taking this. She offered them a plate of small pastries and waited till they had each taken one before continuing.

"I hope that what I am about to say makes sense to you, Captain, Commander. We Vicari are a small people who occupy one homeworld and share one culture. From my converse with your children, I can see that each of them comes from a different culture, though two of them say they share the same homeworld, and I venture to say that you two may also come from different cultures. Understanding can be difficult in these circumstances."

Janeway brushed a little impatiently at crumbs. "Please, Viresti, go on. The Commander says that my--children have trespassed on your sacred ground and you wish them to make amends. They were uncomfortable enough with what you requested that they asked us to come and talk with you on their behalf. What do you want them to do?"

Daritha interposed. "They must re-balance the energies they have upset by engaging in sacred union."

Viresti frowned slightly at the younger woman, but Janeway was choking on her pastry and didn't notice. "Engage in sacred union? Are you saying you want them to have sex? With whom?"

Lirigon responded in a pacifying tone of voice. "The two young men must unite with one another. Each of them must then unite with the young woman. We are not clear why this is a problem, Captain. All those who saw them together on the road and in the plaza were certain that they were lovers. Is this not so?"

Janeway was not sure how to answer that. She knew about Tom's and B'Elanna's most recent attempt at a relationship; she knew that Tom and Harry were the best of friends; she knew that the two boys had been seen kissing. Was there something going on here that she could have, should have noticed, but had missed? She took a long swallow of the sweet juice.

"I'm not sure I can answer that, Lirigon," she said, deciding to go with the truth. "I do know this poses a problem for the people involved, or else they would not have asked me to come speak with you. I can tell you that sexual relationships involving three people are very uncommon, though not unknown, in our culture. But I would like to know why these-- sexual acts are necessary."

Daritha made as if to speak, but at Viresti's hand on her arm, she at once subsided. Viresti took a piece of fruit from a plate and began peeling it as she spoke.

"We Vicari see life as a wheel, or circle, or sphere. Nothing is not part of this circle. Nothing can be whole which does not contain the full round. In sacred space, we honor four quarters, which are the four directions of south, west, north, and east, the four seasons, the four qualities of youth, womanhood, manhood, and age." She neatly slicedthe fruit into four perfectly equal pieces. "The south quarter is devoted to those who are sexually fertile, to lovers, parents, and children. The north quarter is devoted to those who are infertile, elders who can no longer procreate. The east quarter is devoted to the male energies of outgoing, beginning, begetting. The west quarter is devoted to the female energies of intaking, completing, conceiving." She handed a piece of the fruit to Janeway and Chakotay, one to Daritha, and one to Lirigon, keeping a piece for herself.

"In each quarter, there are spaces reserved exclusively for those to whom the quarter is dedicated, places where they can be immersed in the energies of their own aspect. Your children unwittingly upset the energies of the Elders' space by bringing the energies of fertility into it, and upset the energies of the Women's space by bringing the energies of maleness into it. The priestesses of the Women's Sanctuary will cleanse their grounds; the two young men will unite in the Men's Sanctuary. We Elders will cleanse our grounds; the union of man and woman will take place in the Lovers' Sanctuary. Thus will the energies be re-balanced, each polarity affirmed in its own proper place. Do you understand?"

Chakotay nodded, saying, "Yes, Viresti, I think I do."

Janeway didn't, at all. She seized on something she did understand.

"But, Viresti, they didn't know what they were doing. They had no idea they were causing harm to anyone, nor any intention to do so."

"Neither their knowledge nor their intention is the issue." Daritha sounded even more forbidding than before. "Action is the issue, right action. The sacred ground of women has been violated--" Viresti raised a hand and Daritha subsided.

"Captain," Lirigon said earnestly, "we are not asking to punish your children. We are only asking that they repair what they have damaged. If a little child spilled a cup of milk, you would not punish the child, would you? You would, however, clean up the spill. But if a child of thirteen spilled a cup of milk, what would you do? Would you not require him or her to clean up the spill, and not do it for them?"

Unfortunately, Janeway saw the point to that. Paris, Kim, and Torres were adults, responsible for themselves. And at bottom, the Prime Directive meant nothing more complicated than "If you play in someone else's sandbox, you play by their rules." She looked over at Chakotay and was peeved by the faint amusement on his face. Did he know something she didn't? If so, she was going to wring it out of him later. . .

Nevertheless, she used the last gambit available. "I am their commanding officer. The ultimate responsibility for their actions rests with me. Is there anything I can do to make up for what they've done?"

Chakotay sucked in an audible breath, but the three priests were looking at her blankly. "My apologies, Captain," Viresti said, "but I do not understand what you are saying. How can they not be responsible for their own actions? Are they not adults? How could anything you do repair what they have done?"

Janeway bowed her head. She'd tried. <Maybe they just don't understand command structure. Maybe hierarchy just doesn't make sense to them.> "Well, then," she said finally, "my people will have to agree to this on their own, or not. May I speak with them, now?"

"Certainly, Captain. Please wait here, and we will bring them to you as soon as may be."

Viresti climbed to her feet with slow dignity and left the room, followed by Daritha and Lirigon. Chakotay waited as long as he could before bursting into laughter. Janeway turned a ferocious glare on him. "What are you laughing at, Commander?"

He tried, and failed, to contain himself. "If I were in their shoes, I don't think I'd be complaining."

"Very funny," she snapped. "It just isn't right, requiring someone to have sex, as though it were some sort of performance."

Chakotay shrugged, infuriating Janeway still more. "Sex in religious rituals goes back a long way, perhaps to when we were still living in caves and hunting mammoth. For a long time it was more common than not. And it could be worse, Captain."

"How?" she snapped.

"The priesthood could want them to have sex with total strangers, someone who would choose them at random, as was the custom in ancient Babylon, for example."

Janeway shuddered, thinking of how her three officers, any one of them, would handle that request. Before she could say anything more, the draperies at the doorway rustled, and the three officers in question came in.

<They look so tired,> the Captain thought. <There must be more to this than I've heard about.> Tom was sunburnt across his nose and cheekbones. Harry looked like he had been crying. Even B'Elanna's habitually straight spine was drooping. She was clutching a rather mangled garland of dried flowers.

Janeway motioned for them to sit, and they dropped like stones. There was still plenty of food left on the table, and she filled goblets and plates for everyone before trusting herself to speak.

"So tell me what's going on."

Paris, Kim, and Torres exchanged wary glances. "Did they tell you what they want of us, Captain?" Torres asked.

"Yes, and explained why they want it, though I don't quite understand the explanation."

"Captain, we can't do this. Did you try to talk them out of it?" Torres persisted.

"Yes, I did. But frankly, we don't have a leg to stand on. The Prime Directive, gentlemen. We play by their rules while we're on their turf."

Again the three younger people exchanged almost furtive glances. Somewhat against her better judgment, Janeway decided to press. "I'd like to know why this request is so difficult to honor. Two of you are already lovers, all of you are friends, in fact, everyone who saw you thought you were a trio--"

"Captain!" Paris interrupted her, but he didn't seem to know what to say after that.

"Captain," Kim said, "I think we should do what they ask. It'll be all right." He sounded tremendously weary, but Janeway saw the way he looked at the other two. <Perhaps Mr. Kim was more left out by this relationship than I'd thought. . .>

"No!" Torres snapped. Paris reached for her hand.

"Officers," Janeway said in her best this-is-the-Captain-speaking voice, "I believe Mr. Kim is right." She laid her hands on Harry's and on Tom's where it covered B'Elanna's. "It will be all right."

---

Tom spent the night in a small cubicle with only a water closet in one corner and a futon-like mattress on the floor, with a thin sheet for coverlet. For hours he lay awake, wondering if he could go through with what had been asked of them, wondering if Harry could, wondering if Harry had had any male lovers before, wondering what time it was. He did fall asleep for a few hours before a young boy, an acolyte, he supposed, came to wake him and offer him breakfast. He ate some of the fruit and porridge and tried a few bites of the little dried fish that were the only evident protein source, but his stomach was too knotted up to take much. He drank down all of the milky beverage provided and then started to worry about throwing up or having to urinate and not being allowed to.

The acolyte came back and led him off to the ritual bath. Tom stood stock still, trying and failing to unclench his fists, while two older men scrubbed him down from head to toe with harsh herbal soap and cool water. As impersonal and efficient as their touch was, it was still too intimate for him to relax. His muscles did begin to uncoil when they left him in a hot bath strewn with more herbs, in which he floated for so long that he lost all track of time.

It was Lirigon who came to dry him off and dress him in ritual garb. It was damned disturbing to be a grown man and to be handled like a child by a man who just happened to look like your own father, but Admiral Paris had certainly never dried his son, fresh from the bath, or dressed him in clean clothes. Lirigon smiled encouragingly as he wound the length of vivid yellow fabric around Tom's loins. "I can tell you are not comfortable at being served in this way, my child, but it is my duty and my honor thus to prepare you for your union."

"Yeah, well, thanks," Tom muttered. Lirigon held up a necklace of beads that looked like jet and very yellow amber and draped it over Tom's head.

"Sit here, young man," the priest said, gesturing to a stool. Tom sat down and was startled when Lirigon knelt in front of him, holding a small pot and a tiny brush. "Just keep your head still for a moment," Lirigon said. "I see that you do not use cosmetics, but it would defy custom to let you go to your union with face bare of adornment, so I shall give you just the minimum of paint. . . " Tom tried not to blink as the tiny brush slowly, steadily outlined his eyes with cool paint. Lirigon got to his feet, put the paint aside, and handed Tom a comb. Tom combed his hair without thinking about it and started again when the priest angled a mirror before his face.

Was that really Tom Paris in the mirror? This handsome man with fair, fair skin and wide blue eyes bordered by indigo paint that made them look even bluer? And why did he look so damned frightened? <It's not like you haven't had male lovers before,> he said to his reflection. Another part of his mind shot back, <Yeah, but this is Harry.> <What difference does that make?> he cracked. <Sex is sex.> <Yes, but he loves you. And you love him.>

The astonishing blue eyes in the mirror opened even wider, and then slid closed. <What difference does that make?> he thought, faintly.

Lirigon left, and Tom waited, doing his best not to think. Another acolyte, or priest, a striking redhead just about Tom's age, came to fetch him after a while, leading him silently down corridor after corridor, up in a lift and then up stairs, to where Harry was already waiting outside a figured metal door.

Tom stifled a gasp of reaction. Dressed in a skimpy black loincloth, his almond-shaped eyes accented with frosty gold paint, Harry looked like a god, an Egyptian god, perhaps, a statue thousands of years old that had just stepped off its pedestal and come to life. He was breathtakingly beautiful <Has he always been this beautiful?>, but his face was as remote and unreadable as a mask.

Before Tom could say anything, Lirigon opened the door to them and stepped out. "The shrine is ready for you," he said. "May the Most Holy Ones bless your union." He started to walk away, but Tom stopped him with an awkward question.

"Uh, Lirigon-- sir--what exactly do we have to do?"

Lirigon raised his eyebrows. "We require you to unite and give one another pleasure in any way that seems good to you. We will know if you have done so by the changes in energy around the shrine." He permitted himself a slight smile. "There will be no snooping ears or prying eyes. What you do is up to you." He walked away, the skirts of his kilt swishing in the silence.

Tom looked back at Harry. Harry was looking into the shrine, past the heavy metal door which Lirigon had left open. Then Harry turned, and the most incredible smile blossomed on his face, a smile so radiant with desire, affection, joy <for me?> that the heat of it spread over Tom's entire body. Harry pushed open the door a little further, and Tom followed him inside.

---

There could be little doubt of the purpose of the shrine. It was a room created for sex between two men, in an atmosphere of spirituality. Most of the floor was taken up by a very large mattress, thicker as well as longer and wider than the one Tom had slept on. Covers were heaped at one end of the mattress, pillows at the other, and in the center was a neat little arrangement of several sex toys and a bottle of what had to be lubricant. The blown-glass bottle was actually shaped like the male genitals, with the testicles forming the base and the head of the penis probably the stopper.

In one corner of the room was a small fountain, running down from a rift high in the wall to pool into a basin set into the floor. Two folded towels, some cloths, and another bottle--liquid soap?--were placed beside the basin. The tinkling stream of water was divided by a small shelf on the wall at chest height, on which a pair of oil lamps, a spray of leaves, and two pieces of stone, one yellow and one black, kept one another company. There was nothing more for an altar, and no other illumination besides the oil lamps. Small windows high up in the walls let in the midday sunlight, and around the walls ran a frieze of sculpture which depicted, in beautifully carved and explicit detail, everything two men could do to please one another sexually.

A hand on his shoulder brought Tom's attention back to Harry. The smile had dimmed, but there was still enough heat in those dark eyes to make Tom flush all over. How long had it been since a man had looked at him like that, completely unguarded, letting him see how the other person felt about him? How long had it been since a man had looked at him with simple desire that wasn't interested in domination? Tom dropped his gaze, slumping a little, and let Harry's arms come around him.

"It's all right, Tom. Just once, and it's over. We don't have to do any particular thing. We just have sex, just this once, and it's over."

Tom took a deep breath and raised his eyes to Harry's. "What if I don't want it to be just this once?"

"What do you mean?"

Tom wrapped his arms around Harry, bringing the two of them closer together. "What if I told you I don't think I could have sex with you just once, and then walk away from it, from you? What if I told you I've been in love with you for too long to deny it any longer? What if I told you I've wanted to be your lover at least as much as I've wanted to be B'Elanna's?"

Harry's eyes had widened amazingly while Tom was speaking. Now his mouth widened once again in that irresistible smile. "If you told me that, I'd be very happy," he said simply, and he pulled Tom's mouth down to his.

The kiss they had shared by the lake had been wild with desperation and with desire newly acknowledged. This kiss was slow, and luxuriant with sensuality, not a fire of need burning them up, but a lake of pleasure they could drown in. Tom was hardly aware of drifting over to the mattress and sinking down on it, side by side, each one hooking his legs around the other to bring him closer than before. He broke the kiss when Harry's fingers began tugging at the loincloth, trying to unwrap it.

"Uh, Harry--" Tom groped, feeling dizzy, for the right words for this question. "Harry, have you ever made love with a man before? I mean, before--I mean because you wanted to."

Harry laughed, gently. "Yes, I have, actually. I've never been quite the innocent you take me for." His fingers at Tom's waist punctuated the remark.

Tom flushed. "Well, I won't underestimate you again." He stroked the black hair, thick and so soft. "I have, too, but not since-- not for years."

Harry nodded. "Tom, if we didn't have to, right now, would you still want to make love with me?"

"Gods, yes!" Tom groaned. Now Harry was touching his chest, fluffing his fingers lightly through the fine hair.

"Then let's just quit worrying and make love. We don't have to do any particular thing. Let's just take our time, go slowly."

"You seem to be good at that," Tom observed, and helped himself to another kiss.

Harry went back to trying to unwind Tom's loincloth, and Tom returned the favor. Success came so suddenly for both of them that the contact between naked genitals pushed them apart in surprise. The two men stared at one another, both panting. <Good gods, is he gorgeous,> Tom thought. Dressed in the loincloth, Harry had looked as sleek but at the same time splendidly muscular, more overtly so than Tom. Without the loincloth, he was, to put it bluntly, very well hung, and already rather aroused.

Harry's eyes were gliding over Tom's body like hot fingers, reflecting back Tom's lustful admiration. Then Harry moved so suddenly Tom was caught completely off guard. One moment he was half sitting up, enjoying the sight of Harry in the flickering lamplight; the next he was flat on his back and the full length of his cock was in Harry's throat. He was too overwhelmed even to think of an expletive. After a moment, Tom managed to raise himself on his elbows so he could see what was happening. One good look at that luscious mouth closed around his flesh, combined with the merciless and skillful suction he was receiving, was enough to put him over the edge. Harry never let Tom go as he bucked, thrashed, emptied himself.

Soft lips that smelled of his own seed brushed Tom's face. Without thinking, he turned his head to kiss Harry, tasting his own come in Harry Kim's mouth. Incredible. That deep voice whispered into his ear. "I just wanted to reassure you of my experience."

<You certainly have,> Tom thought, but he was purely incapable of forming words with lips and tongue. A drowsy few minutes passed, and Tom awoke suddenly, realizing he'd been dozing and Harry was no longer right beside him. Harry was circling the room, studying the erotic frieze on the wall. Hearing Tom stir, he turned back and said, with a grin, "I wonder if some of these positions are physically possible."

"We could always try them out," Tom suggested. "The Vicari look pretty human to me." He held up the glass bottle by way of illustration.

Still grinning, Harry came back and knelt on the mattress, reaching out to touch Tom's hair. Tom noticed the other man was still erect.

"You seem to have a small problem there, Harry."

"Small?" Harry countered.

Tom leered. "A poor choice of words on my part." He rolled over and grasped the item in question, running his fingers over it exploringly. Harry's organ was not as long as Tom's, but it was thicker, nearly straight, with a full, blunt tip. Tom relished the thickness and weight of it, the velvety feel of it against his palm.

Harry unsteadily lowered himself to the mattress, letting Tom's hand explore as it pleased. Very shortly Tom's other hand and his mouth joined in the exploration, lavishing attention on his recently neglected friend. Where he didn't kiss, he caressed, finding a wealth of hot spots: Harry's ears, chin, shoulders, nipples, thighs. Tom was delighted to feel Harry's hands on his hair and neck and shoulders, stroking and encouraging, to hear soft murmurs of pleasure, and to revel in the feel, the smell, the taste of Harry's skin.

Fingers still curled around the base of the other man's cock and his balls, Tom stretched out beside Harry and kissed his cheek. "What do you want to do, Harry?"

Harry groaned softly. "Anything you want to do, Tom."

It was Tom's turn to groan. "I think I want to do everything."

Harry chuckled. "Then we do everything. I don't care. We can stay here all day and all night. Nobody will bother us. I'd be happy to make all my fantasies come true."

"Don't you want to save some for later, Harry?"

He turned his head and looked at Tom, who looked back at him very seriously. "Will there really be a later, Tom?"

"I swear to you, Harry, there will be."

Harry kissed Tom, softly. "Then I guess the question is, who gets to fuck whom right now?"

Tom closed his eyes, collapsing onto his back. "Harry, if you keep talking like that, that question will become moot."

"Okay, I'll decide. I desperately want to fuck you, Tom Paris. And first I want to kiss you everywhere and see how many noises I can get out of you."

Tom's only response to this, besides a groin-felt groan, was to spread his legs and fold his arms behind his head. He was the picture of surrender. Harry couldn't help laughing under his breath as he settled on top of his lover.

Tom sighed deeply as Harry's warm weight pinned him to the mattress. Then Harry started kissing him again and Tom's brain simply went off-line. Tom wasn't really aware of all the interesting noises he made as Harry kissed his way down Tom's body, but Harry enjoyed each hiss, gasp, moan, and groan, and catalogued every one for later reference. Among other things, he noticed that Tom liked being bitten and couldn't help thinking, <I guess he and B'Elanna get along just fine.>

Harry sat up and searched the edges of the mattress for the decorative bottle of lubricant. Ah, there! He turned back to see Tom looking at him with glazed and heavy-lidded eyes.

"Nice bottle," Tom remarked.

"Mmm-hmm." Harry worked out the stopper--yes, it was the head of the penis, shaped just a little differently from the Earth-human template-- and poured some of the lubricant onto his fingers. It was pleasantly warm and had a texture between oil and lotion, more agreeable than what he'd replicated on the ship. He wondered if they ever used the bottles. . . no, probably not, considering there were safer alternatives available.

Tom raised his knees and moved his legs a little further apart, making room for Harry to sit between them. He brushed his thigh against the other man's back, and Harry put his arm around the bent knee.

"Are you sure you're okay about this?" Harry asked.

"Perfectly," Tom said. "I'd just like to stay in this position, if you don't mind."

"Mind seeing your face while I'm inside you? I don't think so, gorgeous."

Smiling in a way that made Tom harden to an ache, Harry sought entry to Tom's body with one dripping finger. He probed with great care, paying close attention to the look on Tom's face and to his breathing. <What was it they used to say? Some things you never forgot, like riding a bicycle? Well, I've never ridden a bicycle, and I haven't even thought about having a man inside me in a long time. . . > Tom took a deep breath and let it out,loudly, trying to let go with that breath as much as possible. This was more difficult than he'd expected. Harry eased himself in a little further, moving his finger in slow, caressing circles. He was starting to doubt if this could work, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Tom's face, on the other hand, was beginning to show a teeth-gritted, I'll-be-damned-if-I- don't-do-this determination which was working against their mutual purpose.

Harry stilled the finger pressed into Tom's body and, keeping it there, leaned over to kiss the other man. First the tight pink nipples partly veiled in short soft hair, then the elegant throat, then the hollows beneath the high cheekbones, and finally the mobile, enticing mouth. Sure enough, he felt Tom relax around him, enough for him to slip his finger all the way in. Another lingering kiss and then the question.

"How do you feel?"

Tom breathed in and out. "Okay."

Harry frowned. "'Okay' is not good enough. I'm aiming for 'fantastic' or at least 'good'."

"Harry. . . " Tom shifted. "I think there's just too much pressure, on both of us, right now." He laughed shortly. "It is a bit like a command performance."

Harry kissed Tom again and at the same time withdrew his finger, not missing Tom's half-suppressed sigh of relief. "I'm not performing for anyone here," he said quietly. "I'm making love to you."

"I know." Tom smiled, a wonderfully tender smile Harry had never seen before. "So let's just make love." He pulled Harry down next to him, wrapping his arms around the other man and kissing him until Harry began moaning with pleasure. Tom reached for Harry's cock, and Harry got the idea, returning the caress with an oily grasp. For long moments there was just kissing, breathing against the other's cheek, murmuring into his mouth, clutching, stroking with increasing firmness, increasing speed, increasing fervor, and then suddenly a litany of two names, "Tom--", "Harry --", tossed back and forth until they dissolved into inarticulate cries, and convulsions of pleasure mingled the two lovers' semen between their hot, spent bodies.

"Well, I don't know about you," Harry murmured, exhausted, "but I certainly feel we've united."

---

B'Elanna had had two ritual baths today, one before her morning session with Tom, and another before her evening union with Harry. She and Tom had spent more time fighting than fucking, him talking about how much he loved Harry, coming up with crazy ideas, her yelling back, resorting to Spanish and then to Klingon because Standard insults were too weak for her feelings. Tom had finally, to her utter astonishment, overpowered her, pinned her to the mattress, and fucked her senseless, as ferocious as any Klingon male. And afterward, he'd rolled away and burst into tears.

Now, dressed up again in this ridiculously frilly red and green paisley skirt, with dark red liner around her eyes--Klingons do not wear cosmetics -- she followed the motherly-looking priestess who had tended her down the corridor to the shrine where she'd already spent an unpleasant hour or two. <Wonder how that balanced their fucking energies,> she thought savagely. Harry was already waiting, as Tom had been, under the care of yet another priest.

B'Elanna gave him a Klingon look, one of those looks that threaten loss of limb, and almost quailed-- but not quite-- beneath the absolutely unreadable obsidian gaze she got in return. She'd noticed recently that while Tom thought he could hide what he was feeling, he was always transparent, practically wearing a signboard that flashed his emotions. It was Harry who could be completely opaque. She began to wonder what he was hiding under that ruthlessly neutral expression.

The priest and the priestess went in together to prepare the room. Harry moved to her side and took her hand with a firmness that brooked no denial. She followed him into the room and let him lead her to the edge of the mattress before disengaging from his grip. He watched, for a moment, as she paced the room.

"Tom told me you fought like cats and dogs." She stopped, arms folded across her naked breasts.

"It was the best sex we ever had," she replied absently. Her head was lowered, her hair swinging forward so that he couldn't see her face.

Harry went to her, smoothed back the hair, and gently raised her chin. "I had a chance to talk to him, a little, about how I felt, before this whole trespassing thing came up. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to talk to you. So I want to say it now. I love you, B'Elanna Torres. I've been in love with you for years."

"And you're in love with Tom Paris, too," she challenged.

"Yes."

"Tom says he loves you."

"I believe him."

"And you two had sex yesterday."

"Yes, we did."

B'Elanna tossed her head. "Harry, how could you?"

"How could I what? Fall in love with both of you? Have sex with Tom? Agree to go through with these rituals? Pick one, and I'll try to answer it."

She shook her head, slowly, the edges of her hair swinging from side to side. He couldn't tell whether she was angry, sad, or both, or something else. "Why me, Harry?" she burst out, at last. "When you had Libby? When you could have had anybody else you wanted?"

Harry sighed patiently. "I don't want anybody else. Just you, and Tom. You two are more than enough. And I do really love both of you." He took her in his arms and she let him, let him cup her chin in his hand. "But why you? Because you're strong, inside and out, and I admire that. Because you're one of the smartest, most creative people I ever met. You do with engines what Mozart did with notes, I've seen it. Yes, you do. And because you're beautiful, fiercely, passionately beautiful." He kissed her, briefly, gently. "Are those reasons enough?"

<No,> said part of her mind, hurt and stubborn, but the rest of B'Elanna wanted more of Harry's kiss, more of Harry. She reached up to him and he fitted his mouth over hers, sliding his tongue between her lips and touching hers so quickly that her whole body tightened. Roused, B'Elanna sank her fingers into that exquisite hair, softer than any Klingon's and most Humans', and kissed him hard, pressing her breasts against his chest and letting him feel the sharpness of her nipples. Harry cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her in and up until her feet were barely touching the floor, her weight supported by his arms. She'd never guessed he was so strong.

When he let go, she slithered down against him and felt his erection against her belly, warm and hard. Quick fingers tore away the intricately wound loincloth, and she stepped back in order to get a good look at him. He was bigger than Tom, shorter but thicker; in fact, she observed, he was bigger than Tom all over, not taller but noticeably heavier. How had he been hiding it?

Harry grasped her arms and kissed her again, harder and more roughly now, thrusting his hips against hers so that she could feel the heat and fullness of him, not quite demanding. B'Elanna nipped at the tongue that filled her mouth, heard Harry moan, and felt that dangerous wildness starting inside her, the thing she tried to keep locked up, the alien animal that frightened people away from her. She couldn't let that out, not in front of Harry. She tore her mouth away, biting his lip in the process. "I can't do this, I mustn't, I--"

"B'Elanna--"

"I can't let this happen! I can't let them be right about me!" Before B'Elanna could resist, Harry turned quickly and threw her down on the mattress, as if she was so much flour in a sack. She bucked angrily, but he was straddling her hips, keeping her wrists locked in a tight grip.

"Talk to me, B'Elanna. Please."

At the sound of that deep voice, harsh with concern for her, all the fight went out of her. She could have thrown him off easily, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to hold it back any more. "I didn't want to admit it," she said, closing her eyes and turning her face away. "I didn't want to admit that I--- that I cared-- about anyone, much less two men who were both my friends. I didn't want to admit that I desired two men, dreamed about sex with both of them at once, even thought about risking my friendship with them just to do that, just for sex, because that meant admitting that they were right."

"'They' who?" He sounded as though he were ready to hunt "them" down and kill them.

"Our neighbors. In the colony where I grew up." She gulped. "I know I've told you we were the only Klingons. There weren't any Humans, either-- I mean Earth people. Humans have prejudices against Klingons, I know, but not as bad as some other races do. There were parents in that colony who told their children that if they misbehaved, the Klingon women would eat them. They used to run away from me." Harry's grip on her changed to support rather than restraint, taking both of her hands in his.

"The worst thing, though, was that they all thought I was a slut. I don't know why. Klingons aren't like that-- if anything, Klingon tradition is prudish. Klingon tradition would say that Tom and I are married because we've had sex." She laughed breathlessly, mirthlessly. "Maybe it was just that I was a-- half-breed." Despite her best efforts, she choked a little on that word. "I've never heard a language in which that wasn't an insult. My mother berated me sometimes for being a weak and sentimental Human, but everyone else around me treated me like a wild animal in heat. They acted like I wanted it all the time, from anybody. I can't tell you how many arms I smashed, how many jaws I broke, males who wouldn't take no for an answer from the half-Klingon slut."

B'Elanna shook her head, slowly. "And there were a couple of times when I couldn't make them take no for an answer. Even if I'd been full Klin."

Harry tried not to let the fury he felt get into his hands and hurt her. After a moment, B'Elanna opened her eyes and looked at him, looking wounded, her mouth trembling.

"I thought I was going to die that day--the Day of Honor. I thought I was going to die uselessly, without any honor, without any point. I'd always thought of honor as a Klingon excuse to wreak havoc, to do any damned stupid thing, but I couldn't face dying without telling the truth. And Tom was right there with me, close to death. And you weren't." Harry was shocked to see that her eyes were filling up with tears. "I thought, at least I'll tell half the truth, before I die. And if I'm dead, maybe I can reach Harry from-- wherever I am." She bit her lip. "Some honor. To tell the truth only when I felt sure I wouldn't have to act on it."

B'Elanna wrenched her hands away from Harry's and covered her face. She couldn't turn away, not without throwing him against the wall, but at least she could save face this little bit, not let him see how ridiculous she looked when she cried. On the few occasions she'd wept, she'd always wished she were full Klingon, unable to cry, unable to show these weak, mawkish emotions except by baring her teeth to keep witnesses away.

But Harry stretched out beside her and took her in his arms, letting her hide her face against his chest as she sobbed, bitterly, crying out too many years of rage and grief. He stroked her hair and her back, her heavily ridged Klingon spine, murmuring things that meant nothing except, I care and I want to help. B'Elanna couldn't remember being comforted this way, ever, not even by her father. She'd never before let herself weep where someone else could see it.

The storm passed quickly. Harry didn't resist when B'Elanna rolled away and crept over to the fountain to wash her face. She sat for a moment with her back to him, upright and stiff, and he wondered what she was going to do next. She was wondering the same thing. <What do you want to do?> an unfamiliar part of her mind asked quietly. <Go tell Harry I love him and then fuck his brains out,> came the immediate reply. <Where did that come from?> Still, it sounded like a good idea.

B'Elanna turned back to the naked man waiting patiently at the other end of the mattress. She crawled back to him, sinuously graceful as a cat, and put her hand on his shoulder. "I love you, Harry Kim," she said softly, and very deliberately bit his cheek.

Harry yelped, more out of surprise than pain, and at the same time fell backward under B'Elanna's weight. She was kissing him hotly and wriggling out of her skirt at the same time, a combination that had him erect almost instantly. When both her hands left his skin to work on the skirt, he took advantage of the moment and rolled her over beneath him, somehow helping her to leave the skirt behind. Her noises muffled by his mouth, B'Elanna brought her thighs around his hips, grabbing his firm buttocks and pressing him close. His moistening erection rubbed silkily against her.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" he gasped.

"Not when I know what I want," she replied, and nipped his shoulder. At this bite he moaned, deliciously, making her want to bite him in sixteen places. A quick shift of her hips, and Harry groaned in disbelief as his cock sank into her already thoroughly aroused cunt. B'Elanna moved like fire, molten metal, lava, beneath him and around him, thrusting, nipping, scratching. <Tom has had sex with her more than once?> he thought, awed and delighted at the same time. Harry just let her move while he held her firmly, kissed her slim shoulders and unusual collarbone and those wonderful breasts with the sharp chocolate-colored nipples, and prayed to last as long as possible for her.

He did last while she climaxed repeatedly, crying out in what he thought was Klingon; he lasted until she abruptly flipped him over, with unsuspected strength, and went even wilder than before, at once grinding her sex onto his and clenching around him so hard it was like the grip of a hand. Harry grabbed B'Elanna's hips and slammed her down with bruising force, too wild himself to care as her sharp teeth sank into his shoulder and his cock exploded within her. When he came to himself, she was still lying on top of him, stretched out comfortably with her arms above his head, and snoring faintly. Chuckling, he rolled her gently to one side, slipping her off of his diminished organ and cuddling her against him. B'Elanna stirred. "Wha. . .?"

"You were snoring, Sleeping Beauty."

She snorted. "Klingons don't snore."

He stroked her hair. "Humans do, and you are part Human. Are you always like that during sex?"

"Actually, no," she admitted. She raised her eyes to his and touched his cheek. "I usually hold back, don't let myself go like that. I'm afraid I'll scare people." She swallowed. "Did I scare you?"

Harry kissed her. "Awed me, yes; scared me, no." B'Elanna laughed in spite of herself. "Were you trying to?"

"I guess I was," she admitted. "I've had plenty of lovers, and almost all of them thought they could subdue the big, bad Klingon. And almost all of them fled in shock when I let them see what I was really like."

Harry smiled. "I don't care about subduing you. And I don't care if you want to go wild like that. But I would like to touch you, kiss you, take some time with you. . ."

B'Elanna grinned lazily, feeling a slow but pleasurable anticipation. "Well, we don't have a time limit, do we?"

Harry grinned back and touched her nipple. "No, we don't. . ."

---

Harry and B'Elanna came toward Tom hand in hand, him in vest and trousers again, her in the red dress with the remains of the dried-flower garland tucked into her hair. Tom didn't know whether to be delighted or miserable, whether to laugh or scream or cry, seeing them together. Instead he was surprised when they both came up, hugged him, kissed him on opposite cheeks.

It was getting late, and the priests had said they would have to spend another night on Vica. No one who had entered through the gates and then participated in ritual could be permitted just to beam out and go away. Tom had been promised a lavish dinner with his friends and with the elder Viresti, who smiled as his two friends greeted him. They sat down on cushions around a low table in a large dining hall noisy with many such tables occupied by priestesses and priests and visitors. Acolytes served a meal of a roast fowl about the size of a game hen, with a flavor like goose, accompanied by bread, a green salad, and a casserole of vegetables in cheese. Viresti poured out a sweet, fruity amber-colored drink that was definitely wine or some derivative thereof.

Perhaps it was the wine, but Harry was amazed at how easily they were all laughing and talking. The priestess steered the conversation toward neutral things, food and drink, art and music, the travels of Voyager. As the dining hall gradually emptied, the four of them sat, talking on and on, getting just a little drunk. At last Viresti rose, Tom and Harry reaching to help her, and the three young people followed her. The priestess led them downstairs, beneath the dining hall, to a shrine like those in which they had had sex. This shrine, however, was larger, with a larger mattress covered by a four-cornered canopy, and a bathing- pool instead of just a fountain. At the far end of the shrine was an elaborate mural which covered the entire wall. It consisted of a large central panel bordered by a series of smaller scenes. Viresti stood before the mural and spoke to them while looking up at it.

"Children, our notion of balance required that as you had offended in ignorance, so you should make amends in ignorance. But I shall keep you ignorant no longer. We would never have asked of you what we did if we had not been guided to do so-- if the Holy Ones had not shown us how much you needed our help."

The three of them exchanged puzzled glances. "We needed your help?" B'Elanna repeated.

The elder smiled, her dark eyes twinkling at them. "Any Vicari could see what was happening among you- -that each of you was in love with the other two without knowing the same was true of them. Any Vicari would tell you that the solution to your woe was to mate in triad, as we do. Triad marriages are more common with us than pairs, as men usually outnumber women in our population."

Now the three Voyagers were too shy to look at one another. "How could you tell?" Harry asked. "When we didn't know it ourselves?"

Viresti pointed to the mural. "Our Holy Ones told us, son. We revere our ancestors, and the spirits of place and of other children of the Goddess, but chiefly we revere Vica, the Goddess, and the two Gods, Allidar the Dark and Zeridar the Bright.

"The Goddess is the Earth, the land and sky and sea all together. Allidar the Dark is the Night, or the Void of Space, and Zeridar the Day, or the Sun. The Goddess is their Mother and the Mother of all, but also their Lover and the Lover of all, and they are Lovers to one another. I have heard of other worlds where similar tales are told of divinity, but the Gods are warriors who fight over the Goddess, one stealing her from the other like children stealing sweets, or where she favors first one and then another, capriciously, without reason. Here it is not so: All three of the faces of Divine Reality are lovers to one another, all are equal, and to them we pray when we take our lovers. Now look, children, at the sacred picture, and you will see how we knew you needed our help."

Tom and Harry and B'Elanna stepped back from the wall and looked. The central panel of the mural depicted a naked woman, red above the waist and green below, with her hair flying out in an aureole around her. To her left and her right, facing toward her, were two men, naked and erect, shown in profile. One man was a brilliant golden silhouette against the pale grey background, the other a luminous black. All three figures had their hands joined in such a way that each held hands with the other two, their arms overlapping in a kind of knot.

Harry remembered the gigantic figures that formed the temple gateway and realized that the gateway and this mural depicted the same beings. He also remembered the lingering glances they had gotten, odd looks that had made him wonder if the local people were staring at his exotic appearance. He looked at the black and the gold and the red and the green and at his two friends, who had just been his lovers, and he saw it, he saw what the local people had seen. He started chuckling.

Tom and B'Elanna both looked at him with vague unease, as if wondering whether he'd cracked under the strain. The looks on their faces made his chuckling escalate to giggling, and when Viresti started to laugh, the giggling became outright guffawing.

"Don't you get it?" he said to the other two. "Three unhappy people from another part of the galaxy walk into a temple, hand in hand. All three of them, hand in hand. And they look like the gods of the temple, only they don't know it."

Gaping, Tom and B'Elanna looked from Harry to the mural and back again. And Tom looked back at the mural, and he started laughing, too.

B'Elanna, far from laughing, was getting one of those it's-dangerous-to- piss-off-a-Klingon looks, until the two men took her by the hands and dragged her to stand right in front of the woman in the mural, facing the wall with Harry on her right and Tom on her left.

"Look," Tom said, smirking with suppressed laughter. "The red and green woman-- with a dark man on one side-- and a fair one on the other."

B'Elanna scowled, and then her mouth fell open. There it was, right in front of them all along, from the time they'd passed through the gates. The red and green goddess: herself. Harry, the dark god, with his black hair and brown eyes. And Tom, strawberry blond with blue eyes, was the bright god, the gold silhouette. And the three of them had their hands joined.

"They say the gods come down to Earth," Viresti said, still giggling herself, "usually to give help to us mortals. But sometimes, oh, sometimes they require help of us. Oh, children, do you see? Not one of you need be alone. Is there truly any reason why all three of you cannot be lovers, as you have been these two days, as are the Holy Ones whose masks you have been?"

Harry looked at Tom. Tom looked at B'Elanna. B'Elanna looked at Tom and at Harry. Harry looked at B'Elanna and then at Viresti.

"What would you have done if we hadn't trespassed and had to make amends?" he asked. The elder priestess shrugged.

"Found some other way. Invited you to a group ritual and slipped you three an aphrodisiac, perhaps."

Harry snickered. So did Tom. They both turned to B'Elanna. "Is there any reason?" Tom asked in his silkiest, most persuasive tone. She looked from one to the other, both her hands still held in theirs. And smiled.

"I guess not."

---

"Captain's log, supplemental. Our shore leave on Vica is over, and we are underway with a refreshed crew and some badly needed foodstuffs and raw materials, as well as interesting updates to our cultural databases. Lieutenants Torres and Paris and Ensign Kim successfully completed the religious rituals required to make amends for their unintentional trespassing and are none the worse for wear. In fact, they seem even more relaxed than most of the crew. . ."

Janeway smiled. <I'd be relaxed, too,> she thought, <if I'd gotten laid twice on shore leave.> But of course a Captain couldn't put that in the ship's log, or casually note that two of her officers had invited a third to be their lover. As soon as the three of them had stepped off the transporter pad, hand in hand, she had seen the missing element, the truth that had nagged but eluded her when she was talking with them on the planet. From now on, apparently, it would be the three of them. A very pleasant and intriguing prospect. . .

---

Harry found himself once again looking in vain for something to do. He'd already cleaned his quarters scrupulously, blushing as he changed the sheets, wiped down the bathroom, ordered a few things from the replicator. He'd dithered over what to wear even more than before beaming down to Vica. <Pretty silly, considering you're not planning to keep it on for very long.> He was nervous and excited over the evening they had planned, and there was nothing left to do but play some music or just pace.

He was playing Mozart, his fingers moving smoothly and without effort over the keys of the instrument, when the door chimed, and he nearly dropped the clarinet. "Come in," he called, and began to disassemble his woodwind with exaggerated care.

Tom came in, wearing one of those act-like-it-doesn't-matter-because-it- really-really-does grins and a violet shirt over black pants. He paused in the middle of the room and just looked at Harry for a moment, both of them uneasy like strange dogs. Then Harry held out his hand, and very quickly Tom came and wrapped him up in a hug, kissing the side of Harry's neck. "She got off duty later than we did, but she's on her way," Tom said.

They sat down on the couch, side by side, to wait for B'Elanna. Harry took Tom's hand and kept hold of it; he could feel Tom trembling just the tiniest little bit, just as he was himself. They didn't seem quite able to look at one another. Both of them jumped and then grinned ruefully at one another when the doorchime sounded again.

B'Elanna strode into the room with that air of being stripped and ready for action that she so often carried. She was dressed in a sleeveless black jumpsuit that left nothing to the imagination and would take no time to remove. When she saw the two men, standing now, hands still joined, she stopped, tensely, poised as if to flee. Tom held out his free hand, smiling, and so did Harry, and B'Elanna uncoiled, visibly relaxing, and came to take the offered hands. A few minutes later, they were all still standing there, holding hands and smiling foolishly at one another. Laughing, Harry let go and ran his hands through his hair. "So, do you still want to go through with it?" he said, trying to sound as if he were talking about trying a new holoprogram.

Tom looked at him challengingly. "Still think you want to put up with both of us?"

"I wouldn't use the term 'put up with'," Harry responded. "Just looking at the two of you, here in my quarters--" He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought aloud.

Tom swallowed, starting to feel aroused. B'Elanna licked her lips. "Harry, you're the smart one," she said hesitantly. "You figured this out well before Tom or I did. What do you want to do?"

"Tonight, or for the future?" The other two glanced at one another, reaching for the other's hand without thinking about it. Harry's heart sank.

"Both," Tom answered suddenly, and B'Elanna nodded decisively. Harry swallowed hard, relieved and turned on all at once.

"Tonight," he said, his voice suddenly deepening, "I want to make love with both of you, I want all three of us to make love. And for the future, I want the same thing. I want this to be a relationship. Please-- please, you two, don't shut me out. Not after what we've already shared."

"We're not going to, Harry." B'Elanna sounded confident now. "We've talked it over, and neither of us wants to be without you."

"That's right," Tom confirmed. He snagged Harry with one arm. "We're going to prove to you how much we want you to be part of us," and he pulled Harry in for a serious kiss.

<How could I have forgotten so quickly how well he kisses?> Harry melted against the other man, yielding completely to Tom and the moment, not even retaining enough consciousness to wonder what B'Elanna was doing. When Tom let him go, Harry observed an appraising look on her face.

"Not bad, Paris. Now it's my turn."

B'Elanna kissed him with surprising gentleness, not even as aggressively as Tom just had, but with no sense that she was holding back. It was a pleasure to savor the taste of her mouth, different from other women Harry had kissed, and to feel her fingernails running lightly over the back of his neck, promising more. When B'Elanna let go, Harry took a deep breath and stepped back. "Now you two," he directed.

They both gave him shy, are-you-sure-about-this? looks through their lashes before complying. Harry looked at the way their mouths fit together, at the way Tom held B'Elanna against him, and yes, it stung a little, but not as much, after the kisses he'd just had. When they parted, he stepped at once toward them, sliding an arm around each slim waist. Their arms came around him in response, and went around one another, and Harry was pressing his lips to Tom's satiny-rough cheek while feeling B'Elanna breathing on his own cheek, and then he was kissing B'Elanna's full lips while feeling Tom's tongue flick against his neck, and each of them was alternating between kissing the other two, until their three mouths met in the middle in an impossible union.

Tom let go of B'Elanna in order to start undressing Harry. Harry was trembling all over, too aroused already to make his hands work and undress one of his partners. B'Elanna read the situation correctly and helped Tom with Harry before peeling off her jumpsuit in one quick gesture. Tom was busy kissing Harry's face, ears, throat, and neck, so B'Elanna got to work on stripping Tom, who helped with one hand and held onto Harry with the other. Later, Harry couldn't even remember how they'd gotten to the bedroom, lying down on his bed with him sandwiched tightly between the other two. He was on his back, and their legs were clasping his, on one side B'Elanna's smooth thigh and her firm mound already moist, and on the other Tom's light fuzz and his silky erection pressed up against Harry. Neither of them would stop kissing him, face and hair, lips and tongue, throat and shoulders, and two different hands, both slim and strong, ran over his arms and chest and belly and back to his stiff dark nipples.

<I am going to come like a geyser, and they haven't even touched my cock. I don't know if this gets any better. I don't know if I can stand it if it gets any better.> Harry cried out as B'Elanna bit into his earlobe at the precise moment that Tom's fingers curled around his cock. Then his fingertips were being licked and nibbled while slow, gentle strokes moved up and down, up and down his heated flesh. Arching against Tom's touch, Harry moaned when B'Elanna drew his hand between her legs, into her wetness, and applied her mouth to his nipple. "Please," he managed, and both of them speeded up their touch until the pleasure burst out of him, spraying all three of them with the scent of summer grass.

Harry opened his eyes at last to see two awfully similar smug grins. Satisfied that he was satisfied and all right, for the moment, Tom and B'Elanna kissed across their lover's chest. The next thing Harry knew, he heard Tom moaning passionately. He turned over, with difficulty, to see Tom sitting on the edge of the bed, braced on his hands, while B'Elanna knelt and sucked his cock. In spite of the pang of jealousy that came <They've forgotten me already>, Harry started to feel aroused again at the sight of her flushed mouth moving rapidly and forcefully up and down Tom's shaft. He succeeded in sitting up and put his arms around Tom, adding kisses to B'Elanna's efforts. Tom groaned so loudly the bed vibrated and went limp in Harry's embrace, while B'Elanna swallowed it all.

Grinning smugly, she climbed back onto the bed, wedging herself between Harry and the wall. Tom was lost to the world, his head pillowed on Harry's shoulder. Harry wrapped an arm around Tom and the other around B'Elanna, kissing her soundly and cupping her firm bottom in his hand. Tasting Tom in her mouth turned out to be enough to bring back his erection completely, something which B'Elanna noticed at once and encouraged with a warm hand.

"Sit up," Harry said. B'Elanna did so, her knees pressing into his thigh, and shifted to allow his hand access to her sex. She threw back her head as he rubbed the wet folds, pinched her swollen clit, and occasionally thrust his fingers inside her. Seeing how much she liked it, he gave her his fingers in earnest, feeling her grip on him tighten in response to her pleasure. She was still moving on Harry's fingers, growling with bared teeth as she climaxed repeatedly, when Tom sat up, added his fingers to B'Elanna's clit, and began nibbling on Harry's nipples some more.

Somehow things shifted so that both of them were attending to Harry once again. Tom rolled the other man over to face B'Elanna, keeping his arms around him, hands on nipples, mouth on Harry's sensitive neck. B'Elanna thrust her breasts into Harry's grasp and kept caressing his cock, not steadily enough to make him come, while kissing and nipping his face and throat. Harry was glad he had already come once because he felt just as overwhelmed as before.

Tom's teeth grazed the back of Harry's neck, and B'Elanna's scraped the front, and Harry cried out fiercely. Tom grinned with sudden inspiration. He leaned over Harry's shoulder and gave B'Elanna a meaningful look, coupled with a few well-chosen gestures. Her feral smile and emphatic nod left him with no doubt that she grasped his meaning correctly.

Then Tom's hand was slipping over the muscular curve of Harry's ass, caressing, squeezing. Harry wriggled just a little, by way of encouragement, and Tom wasted no time in getting out the lubricant and wetting down his fingers. Harry moaned blissfully as a slick finger pressed gently between his cheeks, found his asshole, and moved back and forth across it. B'Elanna watched Harry's face, ready to convey any signs of discomfort to Tom. She cradled Harry's balls in her hands as Tom slowly entered Harry with one finger. Harry's groan was all pleasure; at once he began moving so that the finger went in and out. B'Elanna licked his nipples, and Tom gave him two fingers, very carefully, and Harry threw back his head, helpless even to get out the sounds that would share how good this all felt. Tom kissed that sensitive spot he'd found on the back of Harry's neck, fucked him very gently, and added a third finger, stroking across the prostate quite deliberately. Now Harry cried out so wildly Tom was almost afraid he'd come. <Go ahead,> he mouthed to B'Elanna, and began slicking his own cock.

B'Elanna pushed Harry back a little so that he was lying against Tom rather than on his side, and with one hand and a twist of her hips, she brought Harry's cock into her cunt. A moment later, Harry sobbed with pleasure as Tom's cock slid very carefully into his ass. Four arms around him tightly, filled and enclosed at once, Harry lost his mind, lost his soul, gladly gave up everything for the joy of being fused with these two people he loved more than anything. And they moved within him, around him, and it came, too quickly, but lasted long, long moments of heat and wetness, long thrusts and cries of ecstasy, long instants when all three of them were reduced to one heartbeat, one contraction, one awareness that was equally agony and joy.

A very gradual descrescendo, and they were once again three people on a rather small bed, one man with black hair surrounded by two lovers, penetrating one, penetrated by the other, and all three of them utterly spent. It felt like hours went by before anyone even tried to move. Harry was just barely aware of Tom slipping out of him and himself slipping out of B'Elanna and the two of them settling him on his back, to lie on him and hold him and stroke him.

"I love you," he murmured, on the verge of sleep. Two voices answered him, two mouths kissed him, then one another, and two heads settled on his shoulders, two hands joined with his on his heart.

As Voyager sped away from Vica a few days later, her Pilot, Ops Manager, and Chief Engineer drinking amber wine and talking about the future, an elderly priestess was overseeing a group of acolytes as they made masks for an upcoming ritual drama. She smiled at three lovers, two boys and a girl, who held up their masks in progress: one of a fair-haired man with eyes as blue as the sky, and one of a black-haired man whose dark eyes were narrow, not round, and one of a woman with dark eyes and bronze hair and sharp teeth enclosed by soft red lips.

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End