The BLTS Archive- Discoveries:
Confusion
by Julad (julad@bigfoot.com)

---

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, Paramount. No juveniles. No profit. Men fuck.

Well, here it is, the sequel to something posted over six months ago ,
but it's probably not necessary to have read it.

Well, I did promise this would contain hot, messy, slashy fucking, but
I forgot to mention 'frustrating'. Yes that's right folks, here at the
Davies Slash Corporation,we aim to tease. Satisfaction is absolutely
not guaranteed. There are, after all, several more installments in
this series. I have to maintain interest somehow.

Huge thanks to Anagi for continual encouragement, threats, bribes,
criticism, blackmail, advice and love -without which this would never
have been finished. Sam.K and envoy helped too. The crappy parts of
the story are the parts where I ignored their comments.

Feedback PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAASE!!!!!!!! Constructive criticism
welcome.

---

Tom said good-bye to B'Elanna, and watched as she said good-bye to
Harry. Even though B'Elanna was one of the few women on the ship who
hadn't started flirting with Harry in the past three days, her eyes
said she was well aware of the change in him. Since becoming
Lieutenant Kim, and appearing at dinner and Sandrine's in those pants
with that attitude, Harry had come out of his shell, so to speak. More
confident, more playful, and definitely more sexual.

At the moment he was playing pool against Batehart. Harry had recently
demonstrated a new enthusiasm for the game, because if he flirted
outrageously enough, his opponent would make stupid mistakes and miss
shots. Batehart had arrogantly assumed he was immune to this trick,
but now,when Harry had nearly won the game, he was flustered and very
sorry.

Tom watched from afar, enjoying the opportunity to drink in the sight
of his gorgeous friend. Blue-black hair gleamed in the light of the
bar, and skin glowed warmly against the neutral colour of his casual
shirt. His face was suddenly more familiar, more expressive to Tom,
more than it had been less than a week ago. They'd spent most of their
off-hours together the past few days, talking and joking and enjoying
each other's company more than ever.

Tom, especially, was treasuring their new closeness. It made him
ridiculously happy. Apparently this thing he had for his friend wasn't
going away, and he couldn't even bring himself to care. Loving Harry
was an absolute delight, Tom had discovered to his surprise, and he
savored these strange new feelings. The constant fluttering in his
stomach, the tingling of his skin and heady breathlessness were so
exciting, and somehow keeping it a secret made it fun. Harry makes me
want to giggle like a schoolgirl Tom laughed to himself. I wonder how
long I can keep this up before he catches on?

Or before my stupid little bubble of happiness bursts, whispered the
ghost of heartache past.

There was nobody else left in Sandrine's, so Tom strolled slowly over
to Harry, watching him try to sink the 8-ball with Batehart's still
scattered all over the table. Even though he missed, Harry gave
Batehart a heated look."Maybe I'll still let you beat me," he said,
then smiled mysteriously. "Or maybe I'll just let you win."

Batehart licked his lips and smiled back. "I never thought you were
the type who'd want someone to beat him. Maybe we should raise the
stakes on the next game." The tone of his voice would have made his
meaning clear, even if he hadn't slapped Harry on the ass. To Tom's
horror, Harry didn't react except to give Batehart a steadfast,
appraising stare.

"Maybe we should," he said softly.

No! Tom screeched mentally, get away from him! He's mine. It had
honestly not occurred to him that Harry might not be available when he
decided to make his move, and the realization was startled him into
action. Before he knew what he was doing, he was in full flirt mode;
he grabbed Harry by the waist and pulled him close, pressing his lips
to that soft ear. "I'm not going to let you get away with cheating
like this, Lieutenant. You're playing with me next." Gods, how this
man felt in his arms! The hair was silk caressing against his cheek,
and Tom felt like his skin was burning away, wherever it was pressed
against Harry's warm body.

Physical proximity did not seem to be affecting Harry. If he was
disturbed by the fact that his best friend was coming onto him for the
first time, he gave no indication.

"Oh, as long as you make it worth my while," he said airily. Then he
pulled Tom even closer and looked directly in his eyes. "Name your
stakes, Lieutenant." The voice was pitched low, and chilling in its
intensity.

Tom could feel Harry's breath on his face, smell his skin and hair,
stared helplessly into those fierce dark eyes. He was entranced,
mesmerized, couldn't think about anything but Harry filling his
senses. He named the only thing he wanted right now.

"If you lose, spend the night with me."

He could hear a tiny Tom in his head screaming in horror at those
softly spoken words, but he shushed it. Going from casual friendship
to a baldfaced proposition in thirty seconds was perhaps a little
extreme, but hey, he was trying to keep Harry away from Batehart's
leering lips and groping hands. Crushing rejection was a small thing
to risk, when the forfeit was losing his chance anyway. So Tom just
waited calmly for Harry's reply, like he'd wait forever for anything
from him.

Harry was looking at him warily. Then he made a decision. "And if you
lose, you spend the night with me." Tom's eyes widened as the words
penetrated the fog of dreamy desire around his mind. Was Harry just
starting the game of flirting early, or were they really agreeing to
spend the night together? Tom couldn't breathe, the sudden fear and
hope and anticipation were too much for him to bear.

Harry smirked, then slipped from Tom's embrace and studied the pool
table. Batehart had apparently been distracted from his game by their
not-so-subtle exchange, and messed up another turn. He'd left Harry an
easy angle to sink the black, but to Tom's surprise, Harry didn't move
around to the other side of the table to take the shot. Instead,he
chalked his cue and bent over the table right in front of him.

That gorgeous ass! Tom whispered to himself, knowing this was the
effect Harry wanted. But he couldn't help staring at it. . . round,
tight, and luscious, muscles moving slightly as he drew back the cue
and shot.

With mathematical precision, the white ball rebounded off two sides
before nudging the black in. Harry straightened up and addressed his
defeated opponent with a sideways smirk at Tom.

"Sorry, I have another game to play now, but I'll keep your offer in
mind." Batehart sullenly transferred over his lost rations and stalked
out.

"I hope you won't be such a sore loser, my friend." Even though his
heart was trying to leap out of his chest, Tom's competitive side
asserted itself as he racked up.

"Not likely. You will be the loser, and you will be sore for days,"
Harry said tartly, eyes unreadable.

Harry broke, and the game was underway. The atmosphere was, at first,
silent and incredibly tense, with nary a seductive smile in sight. A
few minutes into the game, Harry made his first mistake, and Tom began
to relax. Flirting around the pool table was a fine art, and one which
he had mastered long ago. Reflexes kicked in.

"Really, my friend, if you can't stroke balls properly, I'm wasting my
time here," he taunted. Harry looked up sharply, and Tom turned the
charm on full blast. He smiled coyly, playing with the tip of his cue,
then touched his fingers to Harry's face. "Oh, how sweet, you have
chalk on your cheek now."

As he bent over to take the next shot, Tom felt a sharp jab in the
backside. Harry looked over innocently, then gasped in fake horror.
"You have chalk on your cheek as well! How could  that have got
there?" He twirled his own cue around, and  then sauntered over. "Let
me get that off for you." It was  done with a typically Harry Kim
eager-to-help attitude, but Tom  had a lot of trouble lining up with
Harry's fingers brushing his ass.

All these years, Harry had been watching and learning from him, it
seemed.

..."Oh, you missed the hole. That's terrible."

Tom choked.

..."Good, hard stroke. I admire that."

Tom spluttered.

..."You know just how to handle those balls, don't you?"

Tom turned bright red and silently admitted that he was out of his
league. None of his lines had anything on Harry's cheesy innocent act.
It was hilarious and sexy and utterly demoralizing how quickly his
friend had turned his own tricks against him.

Giving up on the lines, Tom moved on to silently touching and
caressing in order to throw the game. All the old subtle tricks -
brushing shoulders, leaning past to grab his beer, tangling fingers as
he was passed the cue - lasted about a minute, and then he was outdone
once more. Tom nearly moaned out loud as Harry - face still blandly
angelic - brushed his hand carelessly over Tom's chest as he strolled
past, sending a jolt of electricity from suddenly hardened nipples to
rapidly hardening cock. At this point, not sure if he should laugh or
scream - in fact, not knowing what to think at all - Tom gave up on
subtlety and threw away the rule book. He leaned in and licked the
back of his friend's neck, laughing softly, knowingly, gleefully, when
Harry couldn't hide a shiver.

After taking his shot, Harry looked at Tom thoughtfully. "Computer,
delete holocharacters and music. Lighting down to forty percent."

Tom's eyes got wider, his heartbeat became even more erratic, and the
atmosphere in the holographic bar was suddenly very intimate. And
suddenly Harry wasn't joking or teasing anymore, just watching and
moving and caressing with a mysterious expression on his face as the
game continued. The mood in Sandrine's got even darker, the silence
thicker, and the touches more erotic.

This is getting out of control, Tom thought desperately, as Harry
pressed his body against Tom's hard erection and bit on his earlobe.
He wanted Harry so bad he could taste it. He was trembling, and
breathing rapidly. They had been playing for at least thirty minutes,
but they were barely half way through the game.

At the rate things were escalating, this couldn't go on much longer,
but Tom didn't know what to say to stop it. He still had no idea if
Harry was doing these things to him just to win. And what about the
stakes they'd set? He couldn't even begin to think about it. Tom
moaned aloud, not caring that it echoed loudly in the oppressive
silence of the bar. His head was spinning unbearably with confusion
and desire, and his cock throbbed insistently, painfully. Being in
love had been great for a few days, but now it hurt.

God, make it go away, he pleaded. I don't want to feel this anymore.
He leaned on the table for support, hung his head and thought about
giving up.

"This game is taking far too long," Harry said quietly beside him. Tom
looked up and saw sympathy and something else in Harry's eyes. "And I
want you to fuck me, Tom." With typical efficiency, Harry took aim at
the 8-ball and sank it, ending the game. "You win. Your place it is."

Tom just stared blankly at him. He felt the need to say something, but
there was nothing in his mind except swirling, throbbing, pulsing
desire. The object of that desire wanted him too. Virtually out of the
blue, he was being handed his dream on a platter. Oh shit, he thought
dizzily, what am I supposed to do now?

He wanted to move, but couldn't. He wanted to take that small step,
feel Harry's body heat and smell him, slowly lean in and run his
tongue over the lips that he could already taste in his mind. He
couldn't. His body wouldn't let him. Now that he was being offered
what he wanted, Tom was so scared and aroused that he didn't know how
to take it.

Then he noticed that Harry was trembling too, and uncertain. His eyes
were downcast as he stared at his feet. They were standing on the
brink of something momentous. Tonight both of them were so turned on,
so overcome with need, that there would be no going back once this
started. They were about to throw their friendship against the wall
and fuck it until it was no longer recognizable. Tom briefly tried to
imagine what their relationship would be, when it was done, and the
future was a dark, inscrutable vacuum.

He should move away. He should put a stop to this, in case it was the
end of everything he already had with Harry. Suddenly Tom was
terrified. If this screwed up their friendship, he couldn't handle it.
It was too much to risk, it was foolish, it was insane. But stepping
back wasn't possible either.

So Tom forced himself to move. His hand felt like lead as he lifted it
towards Harry's face. Shaking fingers brushed awkwardly across a
silken cheek. Then a small, shuffling step closer, and his vision was
filled with the sight of Harry standing, waiting, eyes wide and lips
parted. In the end, those lips undid him. Tom couldn't live another
minute without knowing how they felt under his own. He closed his eyes
and bent his head toward Harry, not knowing what would happen next,
and fearing that it would be nothing.

But then there was moist breath on his face, warmth and a gentle
pressure on his mouth. A bewildering array of emotions surged through
Tom - relief, astonishment, profound gratitude. Then Harry's mouth
opened under his,and sudden, mind-shattering lust threatened to
unravel his very consciousness.

Tom reached out and grabbed Harry behind his neck, pulling him against
his body, pressing their torsos together, and crushing Harry's lips
beneath his own. This was his fantasy, his dream come true; he would
take what he could get, and damn the consequences. Kissing Harry was
so unbearably erotic, in mere seconds he was past the point of no
return; he couldn't care anymore what happened in the morning.

He could feel the racing heartbeat of his partner through their
clothing and tried to press closer. His tongue explored Harry's mouth
hungrily, dipping and darting into every recess he could find. He
wanted to memorize the taste and texture of this perfect mouth, these
perfect lips. There was a hard, throbbing heat rubbing insistently
against his hip, and Harry started thrusting suggestively against his
body.

They were moving now, dancing to some silent pulsing beat, sliding
against one another in a primeval rhythm as fervent hands explored
unfamiliar lines. Grasping,clutching, gripping, while tongues tasted,
long legs brushed and tangled, and hips ground together with the
soundless music in the empty bar.

Harry's hands squeezed Tom's ass, kneading and massaging and driving
Tom out of his mind with pleasure. He kissed Harry even harder,
moaning deep into the delicious mouth as he tried to press his
erection against Harry's own.

Tom felt himself backed up against the bar, and he held still and
complied as Harry worked him over with hands and mouth and body,
capturing him. The hands holding his face immobile while a hot mouth
plundered his, and the hard body sliding suggestively over him, were
making Tom's head spin with lust. He was being possessed by Harry,
owned by him, and Tom surrendered himself gladly.

Harry undid Tom's uniform and pushed it off his shoulders, leaving Tom
trying to untangle it from his wrists while Harry slid warm hands
under the turtleneck to touch skin. Tom felt his chest and stomach
burn wherever Harry's fingers passed. Then there were lips at his
neck, and vicious suction which was pain and pleasure inextricably
entwined. He groaned out loud, feeling his mind cloud over as he tried
uselessly to get rid of the sleeves which confined his hands.

"We. . . Harry. We have to get out of here." Then thought was lost as
Harry's fingers found his nipples, and teeth sank into his neck. Tom
gasped and thrust his hips forward, unable to control his reaction. He
was met by ananswering thrust which slammed him back against the bar,
crushing him between the hard wooden surface and Harry's powerful
body.

Tom groaned aloud, and Harry drew back his head and laughed
suggestively, intimately. "I don't see why. How many different people
have you fucked in this program, Tom? On the pool table, the bar. . .
Is there anywhere you haven't done it?" Harry was pushing his best
friend's uniform further down, and rubbing his hand over the prominent
erection through damp fabric. He was breathing hard and fast, chest
heaving, eyes glittering and dark pupils wildly dilated. Sweat made
his skin gleam in the dim light. Tom felt love and desire surge
through his veins at the sight, and was reminded of how important it
was to do this right. Even though he was panting with lust and need,
he didn't want it to happen here. He wanted their first time to be
perfect. He wanted to love Harry in a comfortable bed and fall asleep
with his arms around him. The thought gave him enough strength to pull
away and compose himself. Pulling his uniform back on, Tom tried to
ignore his body screaming at him to take Harry now.

"Let's get to my quarters while we still can," Tom pleaded.

Harry grasped him by the front of his uniform and pulled him close.
"I've got a better idea. Let's fuck right here. It's been three years
since I've been with someone and I don't want to wait any longer." His
hands snaked down to cup his friend's buttocks, gripping them tightly.
"I can't wait any longer." He pushed Tom back onto the nearest table
and straddled him, then claimed his mouth with bruising force.

Delicious friction sent shivers up Tom's spine from where their
erections rubbed together. I've got about five seconds to do something
about this before I lose control all together, he realized dimly.

Harry's legs were tangling with his, forcing them apart, exposing him
to more of Harry's weight.

Four seconds.

His hips were pressing harder into Tom's groin, writhing evocatively.

Three seconds.

His hands were on Tom's chest, tearing frantically at the zipper.

Two seconds.

And his lips were soft and wet as his hot tongue invaded Tom's mouth.

One second.

Tom decided to take control of the situation. An instinctive wrestling
maneuver had Harry off him and crashing to the floor before Tom
realized the move would hurl his friend off the table. The sickening
thud and bitten off curses had Tom's heart leaping into his throat.
Scrambling madly to Harry's side, he was surprised to be greeted with
laughter. "Not the submissive type, then?" Harry asked with genuine
humor,as he stood up and brushed himself off. "What a pity." He
stepped closer. "Shall we try that again?"

Horrified fear followed by tangible relief had partly cleared the fog
of arousal from Tom's head, and he laughed at the mess they were
making of this. "No, really, I think we're better off on a mattress.
Or at least carpet," he grinned, indicating the hard wooden floor.

Harry slid his arms around Tom's waist and grinned back,in an entirely
different fashion. "The corridor it is, then."

Tom bent down to nibble at his ear. "Surely we could make it into the
turbolift," he whispered.

Harry gasped and shivered. "If you keep doing that, I'll throw you on
the table again."

"Mmmm, it wasn't that bad on the table..." They were dancing silently
again, moving slowly and provocatively, sliding bodies up and down,
rubbing cheeks together. Finally Tom pulled away and licked his lips.
"Race you to the 'lift"

Harry smiled at him slyly. "In a second." He unzipped Tom's uniform
and pulled it off his shoulders and down to his elbows. "Computer, end
program."

Tom stared at him, bewildered, and struggled with the jacket sleeves.

"Ready set go!" Harry waved at him and dashed out of the empty
holodeck, leaving Tom cursing as he tried to move with his arms behind
his back. He couldn't decide between swearing and laughing. This was
ridiculous. Oh, if the rest of the senior officers could see them now.
. . But it was reassuring too. It was him and Harry, fooling around.
Like always. But different. Finally he shoved the fabric off his
wrists and ran out of the door, exhilirated.

In the turbolift, Harry was leaning on the wall looking calm and smug,
eyes sparkling with amusement as Tom raced in. Before he could gloat,
Tom pounced, kissing him again and again until Harry was as flushed
and breathless as he was. Only then did Tom drag his mouth away, step
back and give the computer instructions.

As the small compartment began to move, Tom brushed his knuckles
across Harry's cheek in a repeat of his earlier caress. His first
caress. How long ago was that? Twenty minutes? It seemed like years...

Things were accelerating at an exponential rate. A week ago, he'd
thought of Harry as nothing but a friend. An hour ago, they'd never
kissed. In another hour, they would be lovers. And in another week?

Suddenly it was too much for Tom to bear, and he wrapped his arms
around Harry and held him tightly, trying to control the shaking that
was developing deep inside him.

The 'lift stopped and the doors opened. Tom didn't move,just hugged
his friend like he was never going to get another chance. Because he'd
remembered something. He knew his own history too well. Tom had had
too many precious things taken from him to believe he could ever keep
something he loved as much as he loved the man in his arms.

"You okay?" Harry asked softly, breath stirring Tom's hair. Tom nodded
silently and released his grip, stepping into the corridor.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked, eyes serious. In
answer, Tom took his hand and pressed it to his groin.

"One part of me is," he whispered hoarsely. "The rest of me is just
scared out of my mind."

Harry blew out his breath heavily, and rubbed Tom's hand over his own
crotch. "Me too. But you have to decide. I want to be fucked so bad
that I can't think about anything else." He turned in the direction of
Tom's quarters, and smiled back at his friend. "Let's just get inside
first, okay?"

Tom followed him along the corridor, trying desperately to get a
coherent thought happening when there was no blood in his head. It was
filled with nothing but one repeating phrase. Harry wants to be
fucked. . . By me. Tom wondered if he could come just thinking about
it. Or cry, maybe.

Then they stopped at his door, and Harry keyed in the entry codes.
Seeing that did something powerful to Tom's insides. Harry is
unlocking my door so we can go inside and get naked. So I can touch
him. Tom slowly fell to his knees behind his friend, and ran his hands
possessively up and down his waist and hips.

"So it's the corridor, then?" Looking up, Tom could see Harry's desire
and impatience warring with the fondness in his smile. So he gave in
to a rushing impulse. He leaned forward and sank his teeth into
Harry's ass. Harry jumped and turned around, staring down at him with
dark, liquid eyes. He was so close that Tom could smell him, could
feel the heat emanating from his body and see the clear outline of his
cock through the black pants. It was irresistible. Tom pressed his
face into Harry's groin and inhaled deeply, savoring the intimacy of
it. And he wanted, more than anything, to taste him.

Two sets of breathing caught in anticipation as Tom's fingers undid
Harry's pants. Pulling down his underwear seemed to happen in slow
motion. Then Tom couldn't wait another second. He opened his mouth and
took Harry's cock in it, and their stifled moans echoed down the empty
corridor.

Some small part of Tom's head was aware that going down on his best
friend in public was probably a bad thing. Especially when the door to
his quarters was wide open,and two steps would have them inside. But
right now, the feel of that hot erection in his mouth, the velvety
weight and the profoundly personal flavor of it, was more compelling
than anything else in the universe.

Harry thrust deeper, until Tom could feel his cock throbbing in his
throat. He swallowed around it experimentally, and felt the massive
shudder that ran through his best friend's body, and sensed a
tightening which meant he was very close. The tiny, gasping moans were
making his own erection twitch in sympathy. Then Harry gripped his
hair and pulled him up to face him.

"Inside me, now," he panted, head thrown back and eyes nearly closed
as he fought his own need. They tumbled through the door and onto the
carpet, not even hearing the doors swish closed behind them. Groping
blindly and tearing off clothes in the process, they rolled, groped,
sucked. Lips met at one stage, devouring one another passionately,
until an enticing white ear drew Harry's teeth, and Tom's tongue was
distracted by perfect nipples on a flawless chest.

Then one pilot's hand crept between wantonly spread legs, and Harry
apparently decided he'd spent more than enough time on foreplay.

As Tom hurled Harry's underwear out of the way, Harry grabbed his
shoulders and latched lips onto his chest, sending both hands to Tom's
groin for some serious groping. Yelling in surprise and inadvertently
rolling them over, Tom crashed into the side of the bed. Without a
second thought he picked up his best friend and dropped him on it.
Falling on top of him, lips met with brutal force,and they thrust
their erections together frantically. Moans were indistinguishable,
vibrating throughout both bodies. Then Harry threw Tom off him and
turned onto his stomach.

"Now!" he gasped.

Tom grabbed his ass cheeks in both hands and moved to lick at the
opening, suck greedily on the nearby flesh. Harry writhed under him,
rubbing his cock on the bedcover.

"Tom!" He was nearly screaming now. "Do it!" Tom grabbed lubricant and
hastily coated his fingers, pushing two into Harry's ass. Harry
reached behind and knocked them away.

"I said, now!" He pushed backwards, offering himself. Pleading.
Demanding.

Tom was so hard that he was barely able to breathe, barely able to
see. Touching his greasy hand to his own cock nearly made him come all
over Harry's back. Struggling for air, he started to penetrate the
tight golden ass in front of him. Red swam before his eyes, and he
heard Harry groan through gritted teeth. Then Harry thrust backward,
impaling himself abruptly, and Tom howled at the painful pressure.
Before he knew what was happening, he climaxed in one sudden, burning
rush, waves of unbearable pleasure passing him through him at warp
speed. Harry cried out, still moving against him, and came
explosively. Falling forward, they separated and crashed bonelessly
onto the mattress. Then there was nothing but their ragged breathing.
Lassitude flooded through exhausted bodies as both men struggled to
regain some equilibrium.

Harry flopped onto his back and sighed deeply. His body shone with
sweat, and silvery come coated his stomach. "That was nice," he
mumbled with a drowsy smile. Tom struggled to keep his eyes open, but
Harry was already dead to the world, and his own brain was shutting
down too fast for him to do anything about it. He barely had the
energy to throw an arm across Harry's chest before sleep descended on
him like a black curtain falling in his mind.

---

The pain in his arm brought Tom back to wakefulness. He was lying on
it, cutting off the circulation. Turning over to relieve the pressure,
Tom became aware of a hundred other aches and pains. He hurt
everywhere. And floating back into consciousness came the reason why
he had so many bruises. Tom sat up in bed and looked at his friend.

God, Harry was so. . . neat when he slept. Even lying naked on a
disheveled bed after he'd been fucked into oblivion, he lay straight
on his back with one hand on his chest, face toward the ceiling.
They'd fallen asleep without ordering the lights off. Tom could see
their clothes scattered around the room, mixed together almost
indecently, and shivered at the memory of having them torn off him by
a frantic Harry.

That wasn't what he'd expected of him. Tom had only had a few days to
imagine what sex with his best friend would be like, but the reality
was, well, a bit disconcerting. He'd wanted to take it slowly, touch
and taste every single tiny bit of Harry while he had the chance,
explore until he knew the man's body as intimately as he knew his own.
Instead, it had been over before he'd had a chance to properly realise
that it had begun. Tom considered waking him up for a second round,
but Harry looked so peaceful, eyes closed, breathing deeply, he
couldn't bring himself to do it. The bright lights in the room seemed
too harsh for that kind of serene beauty, so he ordered them down to
twenty percent and propped himself on an elbow to drink in the sight
of his sleeping friend.

Oh, God, it's such a cliche, but his lips do look like they've been
bruised from kissing. Just barely parted, beautifully curved, Tom
couldn't stop staring at them. The lips that had made him throw
caution to the wind and lean in, starting something with consequences
that, even now, he couldn't fathom. What was going to happen in the
morning? What were they going to say to one another after having sex
like that? For fuck's sake, they'd been half-naked in the corridor,
and in five hours they had to be on the bridge together.

Tom dragged his eyes away from Harry's face and onto his neck, which
was liberally decorated with bruises and teethmarks. Further down, the
smooth chest was marred with scratches and other unidentifiable marks
of damage. He looked like he'd just been rescued from the away mission
from hell.

I did all that? Tom wondered, appalled at how violent he'd been. But
then, Harry had seemed to want it. He'd said it was nice, of all
things.Tom would never have guessed that his tidy, organized friend
liked it rough in bed. Still, maybe he should have expected the
unexpected. Lately, Harry had been full of surprises. Until now, they
had been good surprises. Tom wasn't sure how he felt about this
particular revelation.

Looking down on at that peaceful face, it was easy to believe that it
didn't matter. In the morning, Tom decided, he would make love to
Harry with all the skill he possessed, until Harry knew that heaven
was the two of them, together in every way.

As gently as possible, Tom maneuvered Harry onto his side and moved in
behind him. As he slid his arms around the precious warm body, Harry
half-muttered something, and then pressed closer, making Tom's heart
melt with happiness and love. Even lying in bed with Harry was a
godsend, the missing piece of puzzle which had finally fallen into
place in the center of his life. He brushed his lips over Harry's
hair, and buried his face in his lover's neck. Of course it would be
all right. Nothing could be wrong when something this simple felt so
unbelievably good. Tom sighed with deep contentment, and dozed off
knowing that everything was well with the world.

---

This time Tom woke up because he was cold. He sat up groggily,
scanning the dim room through sleep-slitted eyes. Even on a starship,
there is a pre-dawn spell when everything is still and dark and
silent, when movement echoes loudly and the wan light of the stars
only deepens the shadows. It was still an hour before he had to
wakeup. And there was something else wrong. . . Something was missing.
Turning and seeing the shallow indentation in the mattress beside him,
Tom realized what it was. Harry was gone.

Then he heard a faint rustling sound in the bathroom, and heaved a
soft sigh of relief. In a few moments, the object of his thoughts
emerged fully dressed, and moved through the darkness towards the
door. Tom's breath caught, and then again he relaxed as Harry picked
up his boots from where they had landed, and sat down on the couch to
pull them on.

"Hi," Tom whispered, not sure if he should say anything at all. Harry
looked over and smiled awkwardly. Finishing with his boots, he crossed
the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Tom was shocked to see that Harry winced a little as he sat down. For
a Starfleet officer to actually show that he was in pain, it had to be
pretty bad. And even in the soft starlight illuminating the cabin, the
bruises on his neck were vivid, and angry marks on his chest were
visible under the collar of his off-duty clothing.

"I have to go," Harry said quietly, shifting uncomfortably as his
voice reverberated in the heavy silence. "There are reports that I
meant to finish last night, and I have to visit sickbay before I start
shift." He mistook the horrified expression on Tom's face, and
hurriedly continued. "I have no choice, there's something wrong with
my shoulder so I can't move my arm much, but you know the doctor will
keep the records confidential. Nobody will find out."

"That wasn't what I was worried about," Tom replied weakly. "Are you
okay?"

Harry shrugged - with only one shoulder, Tom noticed - but he avoided
meeting Tom's eyes. Half his face was hidden in shadows, the emotions
on it unreadable. "Yeah, nothing serious. I don't even know how I did
it; I didn't notice anything when it happened." Tom gave him a shaky
smile in return, then decided to bite the bullet and say what was
foremost in his mind.

"I was hoping we could, you know, try again, only a bit slower this
time."

Harry stood to go. "I've got too much to do this morning. Maybe some
other day. I don't know." The words seemed to have ominous, almost
fatal significance in the still, shadowy room. Seeing his best friend
and his happiness slipping away before his eyes, Tom reached out and
grabbed Harry's hand. Pulling him slowly down, Tom kissed Harry with
all the tender passion he could manage. Harry squirmed and pulled
away.

"I have to go," he mumbled.

Tom still clutched his hand, not willing to let go so easily. He
couldn't let Harry leave now, not with everything messed up.

"I'm in love with you, you know," he blurted out. Harry started and
stared at him, eyes huge.

"I have to go. I'm really sorry." With that, he walked from the room
as if he needed to run, as if wolves were snapping voraciously at his
heels. As if his best friend just said something really fucking stupid
the morning after hurting him so badly that he needed medical
attention. Tom bit his lip as the universe come crashing down around
him.

Turning, bewildered, he punched the pillow behind him. Punched it
again, harder. Picked it up and hurled it across the room with a
hoarse cry of frustration and anger, then looked around for something
else to hit. With a choked sob, he slammed his fist into the wall with
a satisfying crunch and a burst of blinding pain. Cradling his ruined
hand and feeling the hurt burn its way into his chest, Tom buried his
face in the mattress and wondered why he always fucked up anything
that really mattered.

Because that had gone as badly as could be expected.

---

The End