by Choirboy
---

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the boys and their friends, I just let them out to play, cuz they must get so bored. . .

Rated NC-17. With grateful thanks to Guy Willard for the inspiration. . .

Harry and Tom find that happiness isn't having what you want, but wanting what you have. This started out as an epic, mutated into a PWP, and ended up as a longish (!) story about happiness and self-sacrifice. Enjoy! And feedback, please. . .

November 2001

---
Prologue

The problem is, thought Tom, that there were two schools of thought that applied to this particular situation. He remembered one of the few psychology sessions at the Academy that he had managed to stay awake through. It was, he told himself, nothing to do with the fact that the lecturer was a slim, dark haired Betazoid named Troi, who spent much of her time on the legendary Enterprise D under Picard. Well, almost nothing. She had quoted Freud's famous analogy, "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

Well, Tom had his own views on that particular saying, and an alternative version. His went along the lines of "If it looks like shit, smells like shit and tastes like shit, then it probably is shit." He could think of very few times that this axiom had ever let him down. And yet the situation kept on cropping up. Why was he the only one to smell a rat?

And as usual, it had all started with the captain and her curiosity. What was it Kes had once said? "If I were captain, I'd crack open every hole in the galaxy and peer through."

Tom had a feeling that this time curiosity wouldn't just kill the cat, but the dog, Neelix's cheese, and the whole crew as well.

---
Chapter One

Voyager hung in orbit over a shimmering planet, Miluria Five. The planet was an idyllic paradise, from what Tom had seen. And by God, he had seen enough of it. Ferrying crewmembers back and forth, loading supplies, and flying every single shuttle that was spaceworthy. Even Neelix's old rust bucket had been pressed into service, so Janeway had to be keen.

The funny thing was, mused Tom, as he approached Voyager's shuttle bay, how could a planet and a people so advanced as the Milurians ban outside technology? Even the shuttles had to hover – hover! Just six inches off the ground, because to touch down would pollute their paradise. No replicators, no transporters, no weapons, just civilian clothes, minus communicators, of course. Contact with Voyager was made at set intervals during the day via the Milurian communications array.

Chakotay thought the whole thing just marvellous, off on one of his wilderness kicks. Tuvok accepted it all with Vulcan impassiveness. The only person to get mad was B'Elanna. She couldn't see what all the fuss was about. "It's not as if we're some kind of Malon garbage scow!" she had snarled at Tom in passing, when he had wearily asked for more of her engineering crew to help him. "We're not going to contaminate their atmosphere or anything!"

Tom shrugged the weariness off as Harry came running into the shuttle bay. Oh great, he thought. Another bout of mindless enthusiasm from Ensign Eager. He was getting more and more like Neelix every day.

The officer in question stuck his head through the shuttle door as soon as the thrusters ceased. "Tom, can I go back down with the next flight? I've arranged to meet Dern and some of the others at this new shop they've found. . . Tom, what are you doing?"

"Powering down," came the laconic response. "I am now officially off duty, Mr Kim. There will be no more courtesy buses until 0700 tomorrow."

Harry's face fell. "Tom! I've got an appointment at this shop! Come on, you don't mind, do you?"

Tom shook his head. "Sorry Harry, but I've exceeded my flight allowance for the day. Chakotay or the captain would have to authorise a further flight, and seeing as they're both down on the surface, I don't see that happening, do you?"

Harry kicked the shuttle nacelle in a fit of pique. "Shit!"

Tom shrugged. "Quite." He sealed the shuttle door and started across the hangar bay to the turbolift. Just as he pressed the button, Tuvok's emotionless voice boomed over the comm system.

"Mr Paris, you have a message. Please contact the bridge."

Tom sighed and moved over to the nearest console. "Paris here."

"Mr Paris, the captain is on the surface, requesting permission to be ferried back to Voyager. Please return and collect her immediately."

Tom started. "Hey, Tuvok, come on! I've only just got back! Send someone else!"

"Perhaps it has escaped your attention, Mr Paris. There is no one else. All available shuttlecraft are already in use. Yours is the only transport available."

"I can't, Tuvok. I've already filled my flight hours today. You of all people wouldn't want me to break a Starfleet regulation, now would you?" He could almost see the Vulcan smiling. Almost.

"Mr Paris, the captain has anticipated your. . . dilemma, and has authorised one more flight for you."

Tom gave in. "Okay, Tuvok, I'll go. This sudden change of heart from the captain wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that she's stranded down there without me, would it?"

"I did not hear that, Mr Paris. I would also remind you that communicators are compulsory while on board this vessel. You should have reactivated yours when you left the atmosphere of Miluria Five. Starfleet regulations? Tuvok out."

Tom groaned silently and turned back to the shuttle. "Computer," he yelled while fumbling in his pocket for his communicator, "power up the shuttle." He looked over to where Harry was almost dancing with excitement. "Okay, come on, Harry. But only 'cause it's you."

---

Tom glanced back over his shoulder to where the captain was admiring a statue of some kind. He couldn't quite make it out from his angle, but from where he was sitting, the workmanship was certainly breathtaking. She sat with it in her hand, holding it up to the light from the overhead illumination, tilting it this way and that as the light caught it and reflected off the surface. Some kind of crystal, he supposed.

"That's very nice, captain. Where did you pick it up?"

She didn't respond at first, engrossed in the figurine. "Hmmm? Oh, yes. Isn't it exquisite? There's a new shop that's only recently opened in the square down there. When I saw it, I just couldn't resist. Don't you think it looks a bit like Molly?"

Tom blanked for a minute, then remembered. Her Irish setter. She had been left behind with everything else when Voyager had been swept into the Delta Quadrant so many years ago. "Could I see it a little closer, captain?"

Janeway moved into the cockpit and positioned the statuette on what Tom had always called the dashboard of the shuttle. She then took the controls while he examined it. It didn't just look like Molly, he decided. It was Molly. The artist had captured the dog down to the finest detail. Tom had seen that image of Janeway, her fiancé, Mark, and that dog many times in her ready room. There was no getting away from it. The statue was Molly. The question is, he thought to himself, as he resumed the controls, how does an exact replica of an Irish setter, a breed indigenous to Earth, crop up here, thousands of light years from the Alpha Quadrant?

"What was the name of this shop, captain?" He looked over, to realise he had already lost her to the statue again. He repeated the question.

She smiled unseeingly. "Your Heart's Desire." She blinked and refocused on her pilot. "The owner said to each customer as they came though the door, 'Just think your heart's desire. I'm sure to have it.' This was in heaven knows how many languages, mind. And all without a universal translator. And the funny thing was, something just made me think of Mark. Oh, I know that I'll never see him again, at least not the same way I did before, but that picture on my desk just popped into my mind. And the next thing I knew, there was. . . this," she gestured to the statue, "sitting on the counter. And she looks so similar to Molly, that I thought, well why not?"

Tom's 'something is up' bump was itching. "And how much did he want for it?"

Janeway shrugged. "Hardly anything. Just some seeds from the hydroponics bay."

Tom's bump was really itching now. Your Heart's Desire? Now, he wondered, what would his heart's desire be?

---

Harry walked eagerly along the footpath with Dern and the others in the Fic. Something about this outing reminded him of a trip he had made while still at the Academy. His classmate from down the corridor had decided it was time Harry lost his virginity, and after a lot of teasing, Harry had ungraciously agreed to visit a young lady who, for the right price, his friend had informed him, would get the job done. What he hadn't bargained for was the equivalent of a staff outing. At least half of his class was along for the ride, and they all knew Harry's situation. By the time they reached their destination, Harry was so nervous from all the ribbing and hazing that he was completely unable to get an erection, and the girl made sure that everyone knew it. It had taken a long time for him to live that one down, but it hadn't just been the tenseness of the situation. When the time came, he just didn't want to. Something wasn't right about her, and he suspected he knew what it was. But that something was something he hadn't even admitted to himself.

The shop stood in a quiet corner of the town, just off the main square. It was an unassuming frontage, with no windows to display wares, just a small sign over the door, "Your Heart's Desire". As they approached, the door slid open, and a tall, elegant male stood in the archway. He looked almost human, apart from the eyes. They reminded Harry of a cat's, with a vertical iris in jet black, and were distinctly unnerving.

"Gentlemen," he greeted the Fic. "Please enter my humble establishment. As the sign says, whatever Your Heart Desires, I can provide."

The Ensign wandered around the various glass display cases in the store. Occasional gasps came from one or other of the crew as things caught their attention. Dern grabbed Harry by the arm. "You won't believe this, Kim. He's actually got one of the missing cards from my Parrises Squares Vulcan pack! Do you know how rare they are?"

Harry opened his mouth to ask how this could be possible, but Dern was gone, talking animatedly with the shopkeeper. Everywhere he looked, the crew were selecting items with squeals of delight. One of the technicians, Sinclair, was clutching a carved wooden box Of some kind to his chest, a single tear running down one cheek. As Harry watched, he saw Sinclair whisper the word "Mother" silently to himself. The box opened, and some kind of soft aroma wafted out. Sinclair breathed in deeply. Harry caught a stray scent, some kind of perfume that reminded him of Earth in a vague sense, but certainly nothing to provoke the kind of stunned reaction he saw on Sinclair's face.

"Of course not, Ensign Kim, but then, not everyone's desires are the same, are they?"

Harry spun about to find the shopkeeper standing before him, smiling inquisitively. The smile was very polite, Harry decide, except that it went no further than his mouth. The eyes never blinked, never flickered. Harry felt himself being sucked in by those strangely featureless pools of black. With a mental effort, he pulled his gaze away from them and looked around the shop again. Most of his friends were now gazing at various objects, their eyes completely glazed over with joy and sentimentality.

"You appear to be the only one, my young friend, who has not yet found his heart's desire. Can it be that I have found someone who doesn't know what they actually want in life?"

Harry swung back to stare at the shopkeeper. "How do you know my name?"

"I make it my business to know all my customers, Mr Kim. Now, how can I tempt you? Some of your mom's home cooking? An image of Libby, the way you really want to see her? That wrestling trophy from the Klingon challenge that you always wanted to hold?"

Harry was stunned to hear his needs and wants being recited by this complete stranger. "Who told you this?" he hissed. "Was it Tom? I'll kill him. This is private stuff!"

The expressionless eyes regarded him calmly. "Ah yes, Tom Paris, your friend. Your. . . very good friend, I believe. Now why did his name come into the conversation, I wonder?" He raised a hand as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "I know I have what you are looking for, Mr Kim, even if you don't. Please bear with me for a moment." He disappeared into a back room, and returned with a holodisk in one hand. "I believe this is what you want, Mr Kim. What you. . . need?" He handed the disk to Harry and moved off.

The young ensign studied the disk carefully. It was completely blank, with no clue as to the programming embedded. What could be on it? How could this shopkeeper possibly know what Harry didn't know himself? And more to the point, did Harry want to know what the shopkeeper thought were his secret desires?

---

Tom sat in the Delta Flyer's cockpit and watched as the craft swept over Voyager's primary hull on her way to the shuttle bay. This constant ferrying back and forth was getting boring, he decided. It was his own fault, though. He was usually more than happy to stay on board the ship that had become their home, knowing deep down that what he had on Voyager was ten times better than what he had left behind and ten times better than what the crew were so desperately trying to return to. There was nothing for him back on Earth. His only friends in the entire universe were here on this small starship. B'Elanna, Sam, Neelix and Harry were all he needed in life. And the more Janeway stopped the ship at these Earth like planets, the more it suited Tom. It just delayed the return to Earth for that much longer. Not since the planet of the 37's, however, had the question of just settling down reared its head again. She was committed to getting her crew home, and they seemed just as determined as her. Short of jumping ship or destroying the warp core, therefore, Tom was committed to returning with Voyager, albeit unwillingly.

Another unsettling thing about these constant back and forth trips to Miluria Five was the fact that the return journey was always in complete silence. Every single member of the crew seemed to have made it his or her mission to visit the new shop. "Your Heart's Desire" was doing a roaring trade among the crew. And on every return flight, the reactions were the same. Utter silence, as each person stared unblinkingly at his or her purchase. Unwilling to engage in conversation, they simply drank in the object before them. It was the same on board as well. Although the regular duties were carried out as before, off duty recreation was fast becoming a thing of the past. Sandrine's, the holo resort, even Fair Haven was deserted, as crewman after crewman isolated themselves in their quarters to gaze at their desire and reminisce about home.

Looking over his shoulder, Tom could see the crew staring at something in their hands, be it a picture, a statue or some memento of home. All except Harry. He sat gazing at a holodisk, turning it over and over in his hands, as obsessed with at his shipmates, but for what looked to be the wrong reason. Tom knew that expression on his friend's face all too well. Harry was worrying about something. Well, to be more precise, Harry was worrying something himself. Just like a terrier, when he got something between his teeth, he would come at it from all angles until he found a solution.

"Hey, Harry," called Tom over his shoulder. "What did you get? What was 'Your Heart's Desire'?"

Harry came forward to occupy the co-pilot's seat. "I don't actually know," he confessed. "The shopkeeper just had a very cryptic conversation with me and handed me this disk." He leaned forward to gaze out of the forward window. "Tom, he seemed to know so much about me, before I even began talking. About Libby, the Klingon challenge trophy that I always wanted to touch, hell, even my mom's cooking!" Harry swivelled to face his friend. "Tom, how could he know those things?"

A chill ran up Tom's spine. "Well, when we get back to Voyager, I've got some free holodeck time. What say we run this program together? That way. . . " He was unprepared for the look of sheer panic that crossed Harry's face. "NO!" the young ensign cried. "I mean, I don't know what's on it. It could be anything!"

"Okay," Tom shrugged. "Just let me know when you find out what your heart's desire really is, that's all I ask."

Harry settled back in his chair, and returned to turning the disk over and over again in his hands.

Tom lay awake that night, worrying about his friend. He had rarely seen Harry so intense about something that wasn't work related. Poor kid, he thought. He's probably tossing and turning himself, trying to pluck up the courage to go down to the holodeck and see what's on that disk of his.

Tom was very nearly right. Harry was at that moment standing outside of Holodeck 2, debating whether to enter or not. Eventually curiosity got the better of him, and he slid the disk into the manual slot. "Program running, enter when ready," the computer's schoolteacher-like voice intoned. Harry took a deep breath and walked in.

---

The shopkeeper stood, facing him, with that knowing smile on his face. "Ah, Mr Kim. So good of you to access the disk so promptly. Some of my customers dither for days before taking the plunge. So, before we begin, are there any questions you would like to ask?"

Harry debated whether to interrogate this disquieting man, but then decided to just go ahead. You've come this far, he told himself. "No, proceed," he said.

The shopkeeper beamed in an unnerving manner. "Very well, Mr Kim. There is just the matter of payment for this disk."

Harry was bewildered. "Payment? But I gave you five credits down on the surface!"

The shopkeeper nodded. "True, Mr Kim. But I think that once you see what is on the disk, you will agree that five credits is too small a price to pay. . . eh?"

"Am I just supposed to hand over more money without seeing the merchandise? How gullible do you think I am? You've obviously never met the Ferengi barkeep at DS9."

"Oh, but indeed I have met the inestimable Quark, Mr Kim. He and I have a lot in common. And who said anything about money? What I am after cannot be purchased with currency, much like your own desire, Mr Kim. And I would never dream of gulling my customers. Of course you may see what is on the disk, my young friend. But only a sample, naturally."

Kim sighed. "Naturally."

The shopkeeper nodded in satisfaction, and touched a button on his sleeve.

When the lights came up, Harry was shaking in disbelief. His heart's desire? Was that really what he wanted? Sweat poured off him as the last vestiges of lust and longing departed.

The shopkeeper re-materialised and smiled that knowing smile of his. "Well, Mr Kim? Was it worth the wait?"

Too numb to speak, Harry nodded, still trying to shake off the feeling of shock that threatened to drown him. "God, yes," he finally croaked.

"Good. Now, to the matter of payment. . . for services rendered, almost."

"Anything," Harry gasped. "Just name your price."

"Anything?" mused the shopkeeper. "Now, let me see. I have some seeds from your charming captain, some plasma from Mr Vorik and some isolinear chips from the delightful Mrs Wildman. I think that what I need is. . . some coolant from your warp nacelles. Is that possible, do you think?"

A voice was screaming in Harry's mind, but it was fighting a losing battle. Dazedly, Harry nodded.

The shopkeeper's smile widened. "Excellent. We have a deal, then. I will release the rest of the program – the main feature, if you will - when I am in possession of two standard containers of plasma coolant from Voyager. Farewell, Mr Kim." He shimmered out of existence.

---

Tom was awakened from a deep sleep by a touch on his bare shoulder. "Tom?" came a hiss. "You awake?" He opened one eye to see Harry leaning over him, a strange expression on his face. Shaking off sleep, he sat up, scratching his head. The sheet fell to his waist to reveal the mat of reddish gold hair on his chest. He looked up at Harry, to see the younger man staring at Tom's chest with that same strange expression on his face. With an effort, Harry tore his gaze away to meet Tom's puzzled eyes. "Sorry to wake you, Tom, but I had to. . . wanted to talk with you before I go back down to the surface."

"You're going back down? Now? Aren't you on leave today?"

Harry moved over to the window to stare at the planet below. "Yeah, but I have to see someone. I have to deliver something."

Tom was now wide-awake. "Deliver something? Who to? Harry, look at me!"

Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from Miluria Five. "To the shopkeeper, that's who."

Tom felt the worry bubbling up again. "Harry, what are you giving him?"

Harry's shoulders shook, with fear, Tom realised. "Some plasma coolant from the warp nacelles," was the nearly inaudible reply.

Oh shit, thought Tom. What are you getting into, Harry? Heedless of his nakedness, he clambered out of bed and moved to stand next to the port with his friend. He placed one hand on Harry's shoulder. The young man flinched away from the touch, and turned to face Tom, unwilling to meet his eyes. He looked down at Tom's body and flushed red. One hand tentatively came up and touched Tom's cheek, then jumped away as if stung. "I have to go, Tom. I'll see you later, okay?"

As the doors to Tom's quarters slid open, Tom called softly after him. "Take care, Harry."

Harry swung around and shot Tom a sad smile. He took one last look at his friend standing next to the window, drinking in the sight, then he turned and was gone.

---

Tom had thought about his next move for hours. Unwilling to take it to the captain, in fact not even sure that she would be willing to listen to him, he had decided to approach one of the crew who in the past had been completely unmoved by being shown what the crew thought was their heart's desire.

Seven stepped down from her alcove and regarded Tom with her usual expression of polite irritation. "Do you require assistance, Mr Paris?"

"Well, yeah, kind of," said Tom.

The expression grew slightly more irritated. Seven's eyes continually flashed from left to right around the cargo bay, then settled on something. A padd, Tom realised. She glided over and activated it, staring at its display. The irritated look left her face, to be replaced with an expression of awe, and. . . reverence? From a Borg?

"Seven, what are you looking at?"

She made no reply, lost in wonder.

"SEVEN!" Tom shouted. She jerked her gaze away from the padd, her eyes clearing. He repeated his question. In reply, her eyes already misting over again, she handed him the padd. He saw nothing but a pattern of particles and elements fluctuating at seemingly random intervals.

"It is what you would call Omega," Seven breathed in rapture. "The most perfect element in the galaxy. This display is a recording of the stabilisation that occurred in the resonance chamber I designed. I did not realise that there was a visual display available."

"Seven, where did you get this?" asked Tom, although he feared that he already knew the answer.

"I obtained it from an individual on Miluria Five. A most unusual being."

"And what did you give him in return?"

She shrugged, drifting away in a tide of contemplation. "Merely some nanoprobes."

Tom's 'something is up' bump was now threatening to erupt out of his skin. "Borg nanoprobes?"

She nodded absently. "Is there a problem, Mr Paris?"

Tom opened his mouth to explain, but saw that he was wasting his time. She was lost to him. "Never mind, I'll sort it myself."

"As you wish."

He walked over to the cargo bay doors and looked back at the statuesque figure standing stock still, completely absorbed by the display. "Resistance is futile," he muttered to himself, and left.

"Computer, activate Emergency Medical Holographic programme?" Tom braced himself for the inevitable "Please state the nature of the medical emergency", but it was not forthcoming. Instead, the ship's computer informed him that the programme was off line due to computer malfunction. How convenient, thought Tom. Was he the only one who smelt something rat-like?

He sat in his quarters, considering the situation. B'Elanna? No, she was musing over some image of her mother. Seven? Usually yes, but her obsession with the Omega molecule made her blind to the current threat. Tuvok was deep in a meditative state, attempting to beat a Kal-to computer game, which was funny, considering that he had always maintained that a computer did not have the intuitive reasoning needed to play Kal-to. Chakotay had taken a leave of absence, and was presently hiking through the planet's equatorial region, with a Milurian guide in tow. The captain was lost in memories of the Alpha quadrant. And that left – no one. So who was going to help him? Sitting there alone in his quarters, the answer came back to him. Who else was there? "Yourself," he mused aloud.

---

Tom paused before entering the store. He knew instinctively that this store and the owner was dangerous, but he also knew that he was the only way Voyager was going to get away from this planet. As if he sensed Tom's presence, the door slid open and the shopkeeper stood there, his hooded eyes assessing the pilot.

"You must be Mr Paris," he smiled. "I recognise you from Mr Kim's description. I'm afraid, Mr Paris – or can I call you Tom?"

Tom shrugged easily, burying his rising panic under a feigned show of ease. "Whatever."

The shopkeeper's smile widened. "It's just that I've heard so much about you from Harry, I feel I know you. . . intimately. I'm afraid that I wasn't expecting you. I don't think I have anything for you."

"I thought you could cater for everyone's needs. 'Your Heart's Desire?' Isn't that the name of your shop?"

"It is indeed, Tom. However, I usually need some sort of notice to ensure that I have what you require - in stock, as it were."

"Perhaps if I were to provide you with some. . . information?"

The shopkeeper seemed to consider this. "Perhaps. But I sense that what you really want is not something I can so easily give you. Would the information you offer me be worth my while? Or would it be an unsubtle attempt to get information from me in return?"

Shit, thought Tom, this guy is good. He opened his mouth to deny this, but the shopkeeper held up one slender finger to forestall him.

"Enough of this byplay, Mr Paris. You are here because you are worried about your ship and your crew, am I correct?"

Tom nodded.

"Well, let me reassure you. The beings on your ship will recover – eventually. There will be no lasting damage. Well, almost none. They will certainly be more – receptive – to life in the Delta Quadrant." He turned away from Tom and leaned against the doorway. "They may even choose to settle here. They will be. . . " He spun back and regarded Tom through narrowed eyes. "Ah. Now we seem to be getting somewhere. Is this your real reason for coming to see me? To keep Voyager here in the Delta Quadrant? Will I be able to satisfy your heart's desire?"

Tom was stunned. Was that his heart's desire? He fought to keep his mind clear, and tried a different angle of attack. "What about the things you've taken from Voyager? Do they actually mean anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on. Plasma? Isolinear chips? Nanoprobes? Harry's coolant?"

"Harry's coolant?" the shopkeeper's eyebrows went up. "Well, the items I have requested as payment may well come in useful for a project I am working on, but I assure you that they pose no threat to Voyager."

Tom relaxed.

"That is," the shopkeeper went on, " as long as Voyager leaves. If you leave with the ship, the crew will lose. They will continue on their merry way to Earth, as they desire. Or they can stay here, as you desire. But if they stay, they will die. Because the gifts they have will only last as long as I choose. They will not survive without the drug of their desire. And you, Mr Paris, are beginning to irritate me. So who's desire will you choose?"

Tom was dumbfounded. What kind of a choice was that? His or Voyager's? "Let me make it more of a challenge for you, Tommy. Won't you step into my parlour?"

Unthinking, Tom allowed himself to be led into the shop and through the rear door to a holosuite. As he stood in the semi darkness, the shopkeeper's disembodied voice came from somewhere behind him. "This is one of your friend's desires, Tom, adapted slightly. Maybe this will make your choice easier?"


The lights dimmed, and the program began. It at first seemed to be nothing more than some trashy holonovel, set on a desert island somewhere. The palm trees nodded in the breeze, as the sun beat down on the golden sands. Whoever wrote this program, thought Tom, knew what they were doing. It was idyllic, no question. He looked around the program and saw, in the distance, a large bamboo structure set slightly back from the beach, in the shade of the treeline. Having nothing else to do, he set off along the beach towards the structure.

As he approached, he heard the sounds of movement inside. Examining the outside of the structure, he saw a ladder extending to the upper level. Climbing up, he leaned in through the open window and surveyed the interior. A bed took up most of the floor space, with what appeared to be a bathroom off to the left. A dazzling light shone from the bathroom doorway. But the bed was what caught Tom's attention. Lying on the bed, facing the bathroom was the naked figure of a man.

Tom took a long look, following the contours of the man's outline from the crook of his neck, down the well muscled arms to the taut, firmly rounded curves of his ass, then down the long, honed legs to the feet, tangled in the sheets that lay crumpled across the foot of the huge bed. His eyes were drawn back to the naked backside, marvelling at the interplay of muscles as the figure shifted position slightly, causing a shaft of sunlight to fall over the rippling shoulders, which coated them in a bronze hue.

With a start, Tom realised that he knew that unique skin colouring all too well. As if in answer to his assessment, the figure sat up on the bed. "Come on, lover," the figure called in a voice that Tom recognised instantly. "I'm waiting for you. . . "

A shadow fell across the bed as a figure approached from the bathroom. The man on the bed fell back and relaxed on the bed. He brushed back the bangs of long black hair and closed his slightly slanted eyes in anticipation. Tom suddenly decided that he didn't want to see any more. This was Harry's private fantasy, and he didn't want to invade his friend's private desires. What he didn't understand was why the shopkeeper had shown him this scenario. How would seeing Harry's wishes influence his decision? He prepared to climb back down the ladder, but something made him turn back for one last look at Harry. What he saw made him gasp in shock.

His friend's cock was a solid seven-inch tube of flesh. Tom watched veins fill further, as Harry's rapid heartbeat pulsed along the thick length, pumping more blood towards the swollen, velvety head. The cock shone like a rod of dull steel, arcing up from dense black pubes. Thin cockskin stretched impossibly tight, encasing the flesh beneath in a glossy, lustrous wrapping. The glistening member twitched and bounced with each movement of Harry's hips as his friend repositioned himself on the bed, his legs spread wide in anticipation.

Tom ground himself against the ladder in excitement, his own erection tenting out the front of his trousers. He had to see the girl that had got his friend so hot. He looked up eagerly as the figure appeared in the doorway, and nearly fell off the ladder in surprise. The person standing in front of his best friend, and who had aroused him to the huge erection now standing at right angles from his groin was. . . Tom Paris. And this Tom was also naked, with a cock hanging down between his legs that put Tom's own to shame. Hell, it would put a horse to shame.

As he watched from the window, unable to tear his stare away, the duplicate Tom strolled over to the bed and sat down beside Harry, gently stroking the younger man's cock. The ladder was a rough surface against which Tom rubbed his aching hard on, grinding his hips in an orgy of desire and lust. As the long, slender fingers toyed with his friend's erection, the pilot's eyes turned and locked with Tom's own. As it spoke, the voice that Tom was expecting modulated into that of the shopkeeper.


"Well, Mr Paris? Didn't you know that this was Harry's heart's desire? And judging from your own. . . state, I assume that this is a desire that you would not object to sharing. Well, Mr Paris, the choice is yours. If you stay here, with your crew, you can save them, and you can join them in these fantasies. You may even get one of your own. Or, you can persuade them to leave. But you will kill them." He turned back to Harry and leaned over the erect cock, opening his mouth to swallow Tom's friend whole. "Not much of a choice, really, is it?"

The program shimmered out of existence, leaving Tom standing next to his shuttle, which was hovering the required six inches above the ground.

---

The computer informed Tom that Ensign Kim was presently in the mess hall. Tom made his way there, his mind in a whirl. How had he not seen? Harry had always said that he loved him, but Tom assumed that he loved him as a friend, the same way he loved B'Elanna, or even the captain. But not love.

As he entered the mess hall, Harry stood by the huge windows, looking out. Not down at the planet, but towards home. The Alpha Quadrant was out there somewhere, waiting for them. But what would it cost them, Tom wondered. Harry turned as Tom approached, grinning in welcome. His grin faltered at the expression on Tom's face, to be replaced with a sad smile of acceptance.

"It's okay, Tom," he muttered. "I know that I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, and I can accept that. I'll try to keep out of your way from now on."

Tom took his friend firmly by the arm and sat him down on one of the couches. "Don't go getting all self sacrificing on me, Harry. I'm not ready to be a holy icon just yet. Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Tell you? How? Oh, by the way, Tom, I love you? That I lie awake every night dreaming of you? That I just stand all day at Ops wondering how it would be to hold you in bed at night? Well, I couldn't tell you, because I didn't know. Okay?" He looked up to find Tom's disbelieving stare fixed on him. "It's the truth! Yes, I had wondered what you. . . would be like, you know, in bed. And occasionally I've sneaked a peek in the showers after workouts, but I never thought that it would actually happen between us."

"But, Harry, I didn't even know. . . I mean, I never even suspected that you felt that way about me. Or about men, come to that."

Harry had the good grace to colour slightly. "I didn't really know myself. I'd always suspected, but I never dared try and find out. Not at the Academy. You know?"

Tom knew only too well. For a supposedly enlightened organisation, Starfleet took a very dim view of same sex relationships. Although it was not officially banned, no one who entered into one seemed to get very far, and in fact, most of them ended up leaving the fleet anyway.

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, Harry, putting our. . . discoveries - on one side for the moment, did you find anything out from our friend the shopkeeper?"

Harry looked puzzled. "What do you mean, find out? He's just a shopkeeper."

"Is he though?" asked Tom. "Just think about the things he's found for the crew. The captain's statue of Molly. Seven's Omega scenario. Tuvok's computer game. And as for your holodisk. . . What I'm trying to get at is, how did he know those things? He's never met any of us before, hell, as far as we know, he's never even met any humans before, let alone Vulcans or Klingons."

Harry pondered this for a moment. "Search me. Maybe he's some kind of telepath?"

Tom shook his head. "Maybe, but I'll tell you something else that's bothering me. What about the things he's asking for from the crew?"

"Such as?"

"Well, he had coolant from you, seeds from the captain, nanoprobes from Seven, and isolinear chips from Sam Wildman. He doesn't strike me as the type to collect these things on a whim, so what do you think he wants them for?"


The two friends walked back along the corridor to their quarters. As they came to Harry's doorway, they stopped, the silence stretching out between them. Harry turned to face Tom.

"Would you like to come in? For a drink, I mean?"

Tom smiled. "Sure, Harry, why not?"

Harry walked over to the replicator while Tom made himself comfortable. "What do you fancy?" asked the younger man, then swung round to face Tom, a chagrined expression on his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean. . . It's just a figure of speech. . . "

Tom chuckled. "Relax, Harry. Nothing's changed. We're still friends. And anyway, you're so cute when you blush."

Harry obliged, turning a deep shade of red. "If only you knew how pissed off I get being called cute."

Tom stretched back on the sofa. "But you are, Harry. Cute, I mean, not pissed off."

Harry had to grin. "Here," he offered his friend a drink.

Tom watched with a quizzical expression on his face as Harry sat just about as far away from him as he possibly could without sitting out on the hull. "Is my personal hygiene a problem, Mr Kim?"

Harry blushed again. "No," he admitted, inching forward slightly on his seat.

Tom sighed, got up and crossed to the corner of the room where Harry sat perched on his chair. He shoved Harry's legs apart and settled down on the floor, resting with his back to the chair, elbows propped on his knees. Harry looked down at the back of Tom's head as his friend gazed out of the window opposite. He's gonna have a serious problem with his hairline in a few years, he mused. But will I be around to see it?

"Tom?"

"Yeah, Har?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Harry. What's on your mind?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Have you ever. . . been with a man? You know, what I mean is. . . "

Tom swivelled round to face him. "I know what you mean, Harry. And the answer is yes, once or twice."

"But why? I mean, you're no slouch in the ladies department. Why men?"

Tom paused, taken aback. "Gee, Harry, ask a hard question, why don't you?"

"Sorry, I'll shut up about it."

"No, just let me think a minute. I guess, because it was something different. The first time, anyway. The second – well, I loved him. Or I thought I did. But, it just wasn't to be, so. . . "

Harry was stunned. "You loved him?"

Tom returned to his sitting position with his back towards Harry. "Well, as I say, I thought I did. But he got posted, and that was the last I heard of him. He was killed on active service. Until we started getting updates from the Alpha Quadrant, I didn't even know that."

Harry hesitated for a moment. "What was he like?"

Tom mused for a while. "Very different than you. He was very. . . male. A real man's man if you know what I mean. Firm jaw, regulation haircut, mean and lean while on duty, you know. Julian was your typical recruitment poster model."

"Julian?"

Tom swirled the wine around in his glass. "Lieutenant Julian Hawke, helmsman of the USS Enterprise NCC 1701E."

Harry tried again. "But what was he like?"

Tom grinned. "Oh, I see what you're getting at. Well, I don't really know, seeing as I haven't had much to compare him with. I do seem to remember thinking that he had a very small cock, if that's anything to go by."

Harry returned the grin. "Do you think you'll ever have anything to compare him to?"

The silence stretched out. Then Tom drained his glass. "Maybe. We'll have to wait and see."

Harry dropped his gaze and studied the contents of his glass.

Tom stood, and stretched, listening to the bones in his spine crackle. "Well, I'm for bed. G'night, Harry."

Harry stood and walked with his friend over to the door. "Goodnight, Tom."

As Tom crossed into the corridor, he turned, paused for a moment, then raised his hand and touched Harry tenderly on the cheek, letting his fingers caress the younger man's face. Then his hand dropped away, and with a smile, he was gone.


The shopkeeper opened his eyes. Hmm, he thought. Mr Paris may not have made a decision yet, but he was certainly keeping his options open. But what was Mr Kim thinking about? He closed his eyes again and concentrated. . .


Harry sank back on the sofa, stunned. Had that just happened? He looked down at the bulge in his trousers. Yep, that had just happened. But the question is, do I want to know what happens next?

---

Breakfast tended to be a rush affair on Voyager. Neelix always served fresh food, claiming that it set people up for their work. What usually happened was that crewmembers turned up deliberately late and 'only had time to grab a quick cup of coffee', thus avoiding the usually unsettling and occasionally scary concoctions that the Talaxian claimed were nutritious kick starts to the day.

This morning, however, for two bridge officers, the routine was a little different. Harry walked in, looking like death. At least, that was what Neelix boomed as he dumped a plate of green gelatinous strips in front of the ensign. Unable to sleep, Harry had decided to brave the messhall rather than pace his cabin or arrive early on the bridge. 'Ensign Eager' was a nickname he was trying to lose, not reinforce. Tom sauntered in soon after, looking refreshed and chipper. He bantered with Neelix, strolled over to the replicator and plonked down opposite Harry, filling the ensign's nostrils with the appetising aroma of bacon, eggs and freshly ground coffee. Harry took one look down at his own repast and groaned silently.

"So how did you sleep, Harry?"

Harry looked up at his friend's laughing eyes. "If you must know, I didn't. How could I?" He took a swallow of coffee.

Tom grinned. "Just goes to show you don't have enough to think about. Here's something else for you to ponder. Do we tell the captain?"

Harry choked and spat out his coffee onto the mass on his plate. "Tell the captain? Tom, you just. . . "

Tom sniggered. "Not that, you idiot! I meant, do we tell her about the shopkeeper?"

Harry shrugged. "Do you think she'd listen to us? She seems fairly engrossed in that statue."

Tom nodded, suddenly serious. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I have an idea. Meet me on the holodeck after work today? I want to try something."

Harry arched his eyebrows.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr Kim. And if I were you, I'd dump your breakfast in the replicator."

Harry looked down to see his breakfast steaming. The coffee was having some kind of effect on the vegetables, and they were definitely making a bid for freedom. He ladled them back onto the plate and trotted over to the replicator.

"Come on, we'll be late."


"Computer, open analytical subroutines."

"Open."

"Merge the following substances: Warp plasma, coolant, seeds from Talaxian species 37142 and isolinear chips vibrating at a frequency of 3.47. Hypothesise. What would be the likely outcome of some kind of combination of those?"

"Working. Stand by."

Harry and Tom stood in silence. Eventually the younger man could take it no more, and turned to face his friend. "Tom, about last night. . . "

Tom smiled. "Harry, that's gotta be the oldest cliché in the book. Go on, I'll bite. What about last night?"

"Well, what happens now? Do we take this. . . whatever it is further? Or do we pretend that it didn't happen and go back to before?"

Tom stared at him. "Why would you want to pretend that it didn't happen?"

Harry coloured. "Well, you didn't exactly stick around to see my reaction, did you?"

Tom sighed. "Harry, why do you think I ran out of there last night?"

"I don't know. I thought that maybe. . . "

The computer's voice interrupted them. "Analytical projections complete. Projection running. Form only available, no animation possible."

Harry nudged Tom. "You forgot Seven's nanoprobes."

Tom sighed in frustration. "Computer, run analysis again. Include a sample of Borg nanoprobes."

"Working. Stand by."

Silence ensued. Eventually, Harry tapped Tom on the shoulder. "You were saying?"

Tom turned away from his friend. "I left because I was scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. Harry I didn't know what you were going to do. Kick me out, or jump on my bones. I thought the best course of action was a strategic withdrawal."

"Tom, look at me."

The pilot didn't move. "Tom, will you look at me?" Harry took his friend by the shoulders and turned him around.

"I could never be mad at you. You were scared? Christ, Tom. I don't know what to do with myself when I'm around you. I don't know what to do with my hands. I'm so nervous. My heart sounds like an old train out of control. My mouth goes dry. I'm completely, unutterably and hopelessly in love with you. There."

Tom was stunned, lost for words.

The computer chimed in. "Analysis complete. Projection ready."

"Hold that thought", Tom whispered. "Computer, run projection."

---

The doorchime sounded. Kathryn Janeway ignored it. The sound intruded a second time. "Come in," she muttered, never taking her eyes off the statue of Molly.

Her Ops and Conn officers stood before her. "Yes?"

Tom and Harry exchanged glances, uncertain of how to proceed. Harry gestured irritably at Tom, and he opened his mouth.

"Captain, we. . . that is, Harry and I. . . "

She held up her hand for silence. Tom glanced back at his friend, bewildered. Eventually, she raised her eyes to meet theirs. "Don't you just love this statue?"

Harry was now worried. "Yes, Captain, it's. . . beautiful."

"Isn't it though? Every time I look at it, I discover something different about it. A different play of light, the way it picks up something new each time. I half expect it to bark, or move."

Harry smiled dutifully. "Yes, it's certainly lifelike, captain. If I may continue?"

Janeway shook her head. "Sorry, gentlemen. I have a lot of work to do. Can this wait?"

Tom hesitated. "Ah, captain, not really. You see. . . "

A hint of steel returned to the previously glazed eyes. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear, Mr Paris. You are dismissed."

The ready room door swished shut behind them. "Well," said Tom, "That went well."

Harry nodded his silent agreement. They looked around the bridge in resignation. Tuvok stood with his chin cupped in one hand, puzzling over the next move in his game. B'Elanna was gazing at the picture of her mother, now displayed on her workstation. Chakotay was intently studying the terrain of an arable region near the planet's equator, presumably planning his next hike. The message was clear. It was up to them.

---

The shopkeeper opened his eyes, and smiled in satisfaction. It was all going to plan. Tom may have found himself an ally in Harry, but he didn't know how this had happened. The rest of the crew was his, and neither of the two was any further along in unravelling the great mystery. Interesting times lay ahead.

---

The turbolift doors swung shut behind the pair. Harry leaned back against the wall and regarded his friend. "Well, that went well."

Tom groaned. "There's no one else, Harry. It's just us. You and me against the world. Or in this case, the Delta Quadrant."

Harry pushed himself up off the wall. "Well, in that case, we need to gather our strength. Do you want something to eat?"

"Food, Harry? Now?"

Harry shrugged. "First order of business – survival. Messhall?"

Tom gazed at Harry speculatively. "No. Somewhere more. . . private. My quarters? Say, around 1900?"

Harry, despite his best efforts, felt his colour starting to rise again. He had eaten in Tom's quarters on many occasions, but this felt. . . different. Something was going to happen tonight, he knew it.

"Sure," he smiled, trying to act nonchalant. "1900 it is. I'll bring the wine."

Tom ran frantically round his quarters, picking up clothes and stuffing them into drawers, tucking padds into respectable piles on the coffee table, and generally trying to cram a week's tidying into five minutes. He glanced at the chronometer. Christ, two minutes to go. Why hadn't he said 1930? The doorchime rang discreetly. Tom straightened in despair. Trust Harry to be early. He opened the door, and met Harry's nervous smile.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself."

They stood either side of the doorway, both unsure of what to do next. Tom suddenly remembered his manners. "Sorry, Harry! Please, won't you come in?"

He stood aside as his friend entered the room. "Wow, Tom, you tidied up for me. I'm honoured."

"Ha ha, Harry. Want a drink?"

Harry proffered a bottle. "I replicated this. Wasn't sure what we would be eating, so I played safe and went for white. Is that okay?"

"Sure, sure. Take a seat."

Harry looked around, debating the issue. He could take one of the chairs at the table, but that might look like he was just here for dinner. On the other hand, if he relaxed on the couch, it might look as if he was here for more romantic purposes. Which of course he was, but did he want to look as if he was? He was still standing in the centre of the room when Tom returned with two glasses.

"Oh, for god's sake, Harry, sit down. You're making the place look untidy, and me nervous." He put the glasses down on the table and shoved Harry back into the couch, then passed him his drink.

"So," said Harry, "what are we having for dinner?"

"Sweet and sour chicken with fried rice, followed by lemon ice cream. Sound good?"

Harry grinned, "Very. For a moment, I thought we would be having fudge ripple pudding. You remember?"

Tom nodded, the memory forcing the smile from his face. Nice one, you idiot, thought Harry. Just remind him of the worst experience of his life. Why not just kick him in the balls and have done with it?

"Sorry, Tom. I wasn't thinking."

Tom smiled again, the effect lighting up his whole face. "S'okay, Harry. It does sort of have some bearing on tonight, anyway."

Harry was confused. "What do you mean?"

Tom stood and paced the small room. "Well, that night in prison, when the inmates decided to use me for cutting practice, I remember you saying 'This man is my friend. No one touches him.'"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. That was quite a night."

Tom turned and faced out of the window. "No one had ever said anything like that for me before, Harry. Even Julian, when he said he loved me, would never have done anything like that for me. I suppose I knew deep down that he didn't really love me, but I still loved him. I've never loved any one else. Until that night. When you stood up for me. I knew then that Julian had never loved me. But I could hear the love in your voice. See it in your eyes. And I thought I could feel it in my heart."

Harry stood. "Tom, I. . . "

Tom raised a hand to interrupt him. "No Harry, let me say this. I thought there would be a chance for us. But then Marayna came along. Then Seven. And I came to realise that the Chute didn't mean as much to you as it did to me. So I accepted the status quo. I buried my feelings deep down, and began looking around for comfort elsewhere. And I found B'Elanna. And I do like her, Harry. I really do. And I'm ready to settle with her. Ready to settle for her. But deep down, there's a part of me screaming not to, to hold on, in case something ever happens with. . . us. And when I saw that holodeck program, that part of me screamed louder and louder. So I'm asking you now. Is there a chance?"

Harry put his drink down on the table and moved across to where Tom stood by the window. He didn't speak. Just put his arms around Tom and kissed him tenderly.

Tom closed his eyes and let himself slide into Harry's arms. His kiss was. . . different. More languorous, more subtle, than Julian had ever been. His first male lover had always been the dominant one, using Tom as a convenient sex aid. Tom had always believed deep down that Julian was a straight guy who just liked fucking ass. Harry, on the other hand, was kissing him so tenderly that he wished this kiss would last forever.

Eventually Harry broke the kiss and pushed Tom away slightly so that their eyes met. "What do you think?" he whispered.

"I think," breathed Tom, "that I've died and gone to heaven. Where did you learn to kiss like that, Harry?"

Harry smiled, that familiar lopsided grin that Tom had always loved. "I don't know. Maybe I've been saving it for the right person."

They sat on the couch, Tom's hand intertwined with Harry's. "So what happens now?" asked Tom.

Harry thought for a moment. "Do you really want this, Tom? Because there won't be any going back afterwards. If we. . . continue, it will change our friendship forever."

Tom nodded. "I'm sure. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you now. But, Harry, if you're not sure, then I'll understand. I mean. . . "

"Shut up and kiss me, Tom." The two melded into one on the couch, Harry falling back as Tom lay full length on him, kissing with that same breathtaking gentleness. Harry felt himself growing harder as they ground together, Tom gently rubbing himself against Harry's crotch.

Tom stood up and extended his hand to Harry. "Come on," he said. "Dinner can wait. This is more important, and I think we've both waited long enough, don't you?"

Harry stood, and taking Tom's proffered hand, allowed himself to be led into the bedroom.

---

They faced each other across the bed, neither one sure of themselves. Eventually Tom took the lead, seeing that Harry was almost paralysed with fear. He unzipped his uniform top and slipped it off his shoulders, revealing the tight grey undershirt. He slipped off his boots and socks, then slowly rolled his top up over his chest, allowing his nipples to feel the cool air of the bedroom. Harry stood motionless, drinking in the sight of his best friend stripping for him.

Tom pulled the top over his head and stood there, his nipples poking out through the mat of reddish gold hair on his chest. Seeing that Harry had not yet moved, he unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. Clad only in black boxers, he moved around to Harry's side of the bed and took the younger man's hand. Slowly, he rubbed it against his own crotch, showing Harry how he liked to be caressed.

Harry gazed down at his hand, seemingly no longer a part of him, rubbing his friend's cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. He glanced down at his own crotch, where a definite bulge tented the front of his uniform. Tom took his own hand away, and let Harry explore his groin, while he gently unfastened Harry's top and slid it off his shoulders. Harry wasn't wearing an undershirt, and the cool air of Tom's quarters brushed over his nipples, standing out on his smooth hairless chest. Tom bent forward and gently kissed each of them. Harry threw his head back and moaned in appreciation. His cock grew harder.

Tom unbuckled Harry's belt and unzipped his jeans. The tight denim slid slowly down Harry's long, long legs, revealing a golden expanse of thigh, topped by a pair of white skin-tight Lycra briefs, which clung like a second skin to Harry's body. Tom knelt on the floor and lifted first one foot, then the other, out of Harry's boots and puled off the socks. As Harry rested one hand on Tom's shoulder to balance himself, Tom found himself face to face with Harry's cotton clad cock, straining to be free of its prison. He nuzzled it softly through the material, gently biting the end with little nips that had Harry gasping with desire.

Reaching up, he tugged at the waistband and carefully pulled the briefs down, down over those beautiful legs till Harry stood completely naked, quivering with anticipation. Only then did Tom sit back and look at Harry's cock. It was exactly as he had seen it in the holodeck, swollen with blood and tight against the foreskin. A tiny drop of fluid rested on the end, glistening like a jewel in the dimmed lights of the bedroom.

"Oh Christ, Harry, you're so beautiful."

Leaning forward, he paused for a moment, then slowly, so slowly, took Harry into his mouth. He ran his tongue along the firm, ridged head and down the underside until Harry's bush of dense black pubes brushed his nose. Gently he closed his lips around Harry and sucked, enjoying the flavour and scent of this beautiful man. It was like coming home, and yet, so different. He half expected to hear Julian's voice "Go on, suck that cock," or some similar grunt, but there was silence. Christ, he hoped Harry was enjoying this. . .

Harry looked down at his best friend in the entire world. Tom had his mouth firmly round Harry's cock, sucking for all he was worth. Harry's whole body was alive with sensations he had never known before. The ecstasy surging through his body seemed limitless, as every nerve ending was heightened in anticipation of his orgasm. No, he thought, not yet. Reaching down, he gently raised Tom up to meet him. "Let me try that," he whispered.

Tom stood, motionless, as Harry knelt before him. He felt Harry's strong, yet delicate hands reach under his boxers, then slowly round to his ass, caressing his hole slightly, then moving away again, as the rough cotton slid over his cheeks and down his legs. His cock stood out from a mass of golden hair, looking to Harry like solid wood. Carefully, he closed his lips around the head as Tom had done, then slid up and down, enjoying the strange taste, allowing his tongue to experience every texture of this most secret part of the body. This was completely new to him. And yet it was so natural, his mouth seeming to fit Tom so perfectly.

He nuzzled deeper into Tom's crotch, and his fingers found their way back to Tom's ass, running gently up and down the furry crack. Carefully, he inserted a finger, caressing Tom's sphincter. Tom went rigid. His cock swelled even more, filling Harry's mouth. A second finger joined the first, gently widening the crack, as Tom squirmed in pleasure. His hands gripped Harry's shoulders and pulled the younger man off his penis.

"Harry, you've gotta stop that. I'll never last the course!"

Harry grinned and stood up, leaning in to kiss Tom. Their cocks met and rubbed against each other, leaving a thin trail of precome like a tiny rope bridge between them. Harry broke the kiss and stepped back. His eyes sought out Tom and asked a question. Tom nodded, and lay back on the bed, raising his legs over Harry's shoulders as the younger man positioned himself over Tom. Taking his cock in hand, Harry guided it down until the tip rested against Tom's anus. The mere touch of skin on skin was almost enough to set him off. He pinched himself tightly just below the glans to temporarily kill the excitement. Everything was going like dream clockwork.

Harry prayed silently that he could contain himself long enough to fully enjoy the fuck. He worked himself in between the cheeks, the tip of his cock meeting Tom's hole in a shy kiss. There was a moment of gluey contact and resistance. . . and then the soft kiss as Harry gently manoeuvred in with a slight corkscrew motion. Supporting the weight of his body on both hands, he leaned slowly in, feeling the continuing give as a smooth creeping pinch. From above, Harry gazed down at the magical, dreamed-of sight of his slowly disappearing length being swallowed in as if ingested by a hungry mouth. When he was half way in he could go no further, and paused to catch his breath. Tom had groaned at first but now lay breathing quietly while Harry gloried in his buried state. He withdrew for a second try, then leaned in again, closing his eyes to feel the sensation of sinking, as Tom's hole, like a tiny mouth gripped him the entire way in, all the way in. Harry suddenly realised how perfectly nature had fitted this part of a man for this wonderful game. Harry gave himself up to a steady thrusting.

Listening to the steady slap of skin on skin, he felt a delicious sensation run from the base of his balls to his own asshole. To his surprise, he felt a responsive heaving beneath him, and picked up speed, thrilled by Tom's desire to be filled and filled again. Harry knew the coming orgasm would be the climax of his life- nothing would ever be the same again. Tom began giving out little grunts as Harry felt his ass tighten even more around the length of Harry's cock. Gasping, Harry threw his head back and bit his lower lip as he pumped his pelvis in, deeply, again and again, as he felt himself begin to give. . .

"Oh!"

Harry came, ejaculating deep into Tom's body, wracked by successive waves of pleasure, which reached right into the farthest corners of his body. Drained and almost sobbing with release, Harry collapsed onto Tom's back, heart pounding and gasping for air. He was still hard inside Tom, and as he withdrew, slowly, so slowly, gently rubbing Tom's fuck tunnel, Tom gasped and came, shooting come up between y

Harry rolled off Tom and collapsed on the bed next to him, still breathing deeply.

Eventually their breathing quietened, and the room grew silent. Harry propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at his lover. Tom lay there, completely drained, come splattering his chest and stomach. Harry thought that nothing had ever looked so beautiful.

Tom opened his eyes and gazed up at Harry. "I don't care whether you enjoyed that or not, Harry. After that fuck, if you don't think men are for you, if you prefer just friendship, even if you never want to see me again, it's tough, because I am never letting you out of my bed again."

Harry collapsed in laughter.


Later, they sat up in bed, feeding each other lemon ice cream. Tom spooned another helping into Harry's mouth, then placed the empty bowl on the side table. "Now," he said.

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Wow, how authoritative you are, Mr Paris."

Tom grinned evilly. "Shut up Harry, that comes later. What do we do about the shopkeeper?"

Harry snuggled down into Tom's arms. "Oh. That."

"Yeah, that. How do we find out what he's going to do with that. . . whatever it is in the holodeck?"

Harry considered for a moment. "We could always confront him with the evidence, see what he says, and then report him."

"Report him to who? The Milurian authorities don't seem to be interested. The captain's off on some trip down memory lane, and Chakotay's gone bush. There's no one."

"Hmm," replied Harry. "Speaking of going bush. . . " his hand slipped down and started caressing Tom's limp cock through his mass of pubic hair.

Tom slapped his hand away playfully. "Pack it in, Ensign. There'll be time for that later. Keep your mind on the job in hand."

Harry rolled over and sat up. "What surprised me is the fact that there was no life to the thing. Even after we added the nanoprobes, the thing just didn't move. And the computer said that there was a component missing, but wouldn't specify what."

Tom swung his legs out of bed. "Well, we're not going to find out lying here, are we?"

"Oh, I don't know," replied Harry. "We seem to have discovered a great deal lying here." He ran his hand down Tom's back to the start of his crack.

Tom squirmed in pleasure and fought Harry's hand off. "Come on, Harry, we've got work to do."

"Work?" asked Harry, sitting up and looking around on the floor for his shorts.

"Yeah," replied Tom, his words muffled as he drew on his undershirt. "We've got to go and see a man about a creature." His head popped out of the neck, and he also began looking around for his underwear. He glanced up to see Harry slipping them on, sliding the black cotton up his legs and over his semi erect cock.

Harry looked up and smiled. "Do you mind?"

"Hell no," said Tom. He reached over and dragged up his trousers over his naked ass. "Just so long as you don't mind me going commando."

Harry reached over and rubbed Tom's crotch through the material. "Not at all. Less for me to take off next time."

Tom gazed at Harry, suddenly serious. "Is there going to be a next time?"

Harry smiled reassuringly. "What do you think?"

---

They walked quietly to the shuttle bay. It was eerie, the abandoned corridors picking up their soft tread as they passed locked doors and empty workstations, where the crew usually worked.

"What are we actually going to do when we get down there, Tom? Confront him and ask him to pack up his toys and let Voyager go?"

Tom was silent for a moment. "I have something to tell you first, Harry. But we need to be in the Delta Flyer first. I need to be in surroundings I can trust before I do this."

They sat at the rear consoles, facing each other. Harry looked at Tom expectantly. Tom seemed miles away, gazing at the flight panel, but not seeing it. He looked up to see Harry's quizzical expression, and smiled quickly.

"Sorry. . . just. . . this is difficult to say."

"Tom, are you having second thoughts? Because if you are, just tell me, and I'll back off. I mean. . . "

Tom grabbed Harry's hands frantically. "No, Gods, no, Harry. In fact. . . us. . . we. . . are the reason that we need to go down to the planet and see this guy. Let me try to explain."

He took a deep breath and plunged in.

"When the captain first started acting funny over that statue, I thought it was just her. You know, women's troubles? But then Chakotay went all wilderness, and Tuvok took on the Kal-to computer, and it all started going pear-shaped. So I went down to see the shopkeeper, confront him, if I could, and find out what it was he really wanted. He gave me a choice, Harry."

"A choice? What kind of choice?"

Tom stood and moved to the pilot's seat, as if trying to make himself completely comfortable. Harry realised that apart from the bridge of Voyager, the cockpit of the Flyer, as much as anywhere in the Delta Quadrant, was Tom's spiritual home.

"He admitted that he was responsible for the crew's behaviour. Each time he requested something from the ship, it was in return for fulfilling their 'heart's desire'. That's why they gave up so willingly. It was only something insignificant to them, like some isolinear chips, or seeds form the hydroponics bay. But to him it was another step towards whatever he was creating. When he saw that I was a threat to him, he had to neutralise me somehow."

Harry sat back in his chair, puzzled. "I don't understand. Why were you a threat to him?"

Tom smiled ruefully. "Because of the choice he gave me. Everyone had his or her heart's desire. The captain's was to see that damn mutt of hers again. Seven's was to understand Omega. Yours was. . . well, me."

Harry had the good grace to blush again.

"But what I wanted was no good to him. Because I wanted to stay here, in the Delta Quadrant. Earth has no meaning for me, Harry. My friends are here. You, B'Elanna, Neelix and Sam. I don't want to go back to Earth. And his whole plan depends on Voyager leaving here. If we stay, he runs the risk of us discovering his schemes. So he gave me a choice. Stay here, in the Delta Quadrant, with Voyager. But then the crew would die. He threatened to withdraw the . . . power. . . of those things he gave the crew. The shock would kill them. Or, I could take Voyager home. Which would probably kill me. Earth means prison for me, Harry. New Zealand again. I couldn't take that risk. So he gave me the choice. Stay or go. Just to further muddy the waters, he showed me your holodisk. Your 'heart's desire'. I think that the idea behind that was to put more pressure on me to take Voyager home. But he didn't bargain for me actually falling in love with you. My heart's desire isn't to stay in the Delta Quadrant any more, Harry. It's you."

"Wait a minute," said Harry in a slightly strangled voice. "Go back a second. What did you just say?"

Tom smiled. "Yes, you heard me. I've fallen for you. Hook, line and sinker. So now, he has no bargaining chip. If I stay, I'm with you. If Voyager goes, I'm with you. Heads I win, tails he loses."

---

They walked the short distance from the landing area to the shop in silence. Harry's mind was a whirl. "Tom, I still don't understand. What are you going to do now?"

Tom stopped and turned Harry to face him. "I've figured out what he needs, Harry. And I'm going to give it to him. This way, Voyager gets to go home, he gets what he needs, and we're all happy. Just trust me, okay?"

Harry swore silently under his breath. He's almost forgotten how much he hated that particular phrase. When all this was over, he decided, he and his lover were going to have a long talk about the etiquette surrounding truth in a relationship.

The shopkeeper stood outside his door, leaning back against the lintel in the afternoon sunlight.

"Mr Paris, Mr Kim! How good of you to call by. Mr Kim, I'm afraid I have nothing else for you today, but I assume, from the way you are trailing around after this. . . man. . . means that you need nothing else. Your mother would be so proud."

"Cut the crap," said Tom sharply. "I've made my decision. Do you want to hear it or not?"

The shopkeeper's eyes widened. "By all means. Come inside, won't you?"

They walked into the back room, where suddenly there were three easy chairs, placed in front of a warm fire. The shopkeeper indicated two of the seats, and the pair sat down. The shopkeeper arranged his robes about him in the third, and looked at Tom expectantly.

Tom cleared his throat. "Okay. I've made my decision. Voyager can go. Let the crew keep their heart's desires. Now that Harry's seen the light, he can pilot the ship home, with the help of the computer."

Harry started to his feet. "Tom, what do you mean? You're coming too!"

Tom reached up and pulled Harry's arm, forcing him back into his chair. "I asked you to trust me, Harry."

He turned back to the shopkeeper. "I know what you want. I've figured out what your. . . creation is missing. I ran the simulations on the holodeck. So I'm offering it to you, in exchange for Voyager's freedom."

An evil smile broke over the shopkeeper's face. "Very clever, Tommy. Fair enough. You figured it out. And so noble of you, to offer yourself as part of the deal. 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.'"

Tom nodded. "Or the one."

"But what I don't believe you understand is. . . why?"

"Why?"

The shopkeeper leapt to his feet. "Come on, Tommy, don't you want to know? What's the point in dying for a cause you know nothing about?"

"Tom. . . " Harry opened his mouth to speak, but a glare from Tom silenced him.

"Okay," the pilot replied, "I'll bite. Why?"

The shopkeeper shrugged. "I'm old, Tommy. I've been stuck on this miserable planet for hundreds of years, eking out a miserable existence among these peasants. Look around you. This pitiful ban of theirs on technology is holding them back, only they're too backward to see it. I have to get off this planet, and find my way home. In a way, we're very similar, Voyager and I. Searching for a way home. And we're both facing the inexorable march of time. But whereas Voyager is more or less self-sustaining, I'm not. I'm dying. I need to regenerate. And to do this, I need a new body. One that will withstand the ravages of time. But there was no chance of ever achieving anything like that on this pathetic rock. And then Voyager came along, with all your Starfleet technology. My prayers were answered. Seven's nanoprobes were the perfect catalyst. And now, there is just one thing missing. My creature needs life, Tommy boy. It needs a soul. And if I'm correct, you're going to give it to me."

Tom nodded. "You're correct. Once Voyager is safely out of this system and on her way home, I'll surrender myself to you."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Tom!" he cried. "What about us?"

Tom turned such a cold look on him that Harry shrank away in fear.

"Us, Harry? There is no us. I only let you fuck me so that you would get your heart's desire. Your real heart's desire. And now that you're free of this being's influence, there's no need to carry on the pretence any longer. Go home, Harry. Go back to Voyager, go back to Libby and go home."

The shopkeeper raised his hand and gestured at Harry, much as a man might swat an annoying insect. Harry vanished, returned to the shuttle by whatever powers this being possessed. The shopkeeper turned to Tom, a smile creasing his thin mouth. "And now, Mr Paris, I believe you have something for me?"

Tom started, stunned by Harry's disappearance.

"No more delaying, Tommy boy. I'm going to take what I need. Your soul."

The shopkeeper swelled and grew, encompassing all the room in the tiny shop. The walls seemed to give in response, growing outward until the pilot was just a tiny figure, dwarfed by the titan in black robes, who bent down so that his immense face was on the same level as Tom's.

"Ready?" it rumbled.

Tom stood, an insignificant speck of life against this behemoth. "Ready."

The giant's eyes glowed, the strange black vertical iris opening into a seemingly bottomless pool of night. Twin streaks of black struck Tom in the chest, flinging him back against the rock wall of the huge cavern that the shop had become. He writhed in agony, as the shopkeeper's life force raced through his body, under his skin, through his tissue and bone to the very core of him. Abruptly the giant broke contact, screaming in frustration and denial. The twin bolts shimmered and died. Tom collapsed on the floor, chest heaving in breath, as though each one might be his last. The giant reared back, shaking its head in agony. "This cannot be!" it screamed in terror. "Your heart's desire. . . "

Tom stood on shaky legs. ". . . Has changed," he finished for the shopkeeper. "You were so sure you had read the situation correctly, weren't you? I wouldn't want to go home. I wouldn't sacrifice the crew. The only choice you saw was for me to stay here and release the crew to continue to Earth, even thought they would still be duped by their desires. You never even stopped to check, did you?"

The shopkeeper was shrinking back to his normal size, ageing rapidly as he did so. "But I need your heart's desire! I need it to be sacrifice! You must sacrifice yourself, so the creature will sacrifice itself for me!"

"But I don't need to sacrifice myself now. Harry loves me, that much I knew before. Now I know I love Harry. That overrides everything. I can go back to Earth. I can face prison. I can face anything, because I'll have Harry. I'll never be alone again. No more doubts, no more fears. I have sacrificed myself, yes. But to Harry. Not to you. Never to you."

The shopkeeper tottered back on spindly legs, collapsing into his chair, chest heaving as the ageing process gathered speed. Tom leaned over him, putting his mouth close to the shopkeeper's ears to make sure the old man heard him. "My soul is my own."

There was a single scream of terror, then the essence abruptly left the frame of the being writhing in the chair. Where a vital, strong man had been only moments ago, now there was nothing but a shell, wrapped a burial robe of black robes.


A hand touched Harry's shoulder. He jerked upright, startled. He hadn't heard the shuttle door open, lost in grief and rage at his betrayal. He turned in his seat to see Tom's ice-blue eyes staring into his. "I told you to trust me," was all his friend said.

---
Epilogue

Voyager cruised effortlessly through space, carrying the crew onwards towards Earth. On the bridge, Kathryn Janeway regarded her pilot with a quizzical stare. Something had happened in the last few days to Tom. His inner demons had finally gone. He had wrestled them out of existence. She realised that she had never seen him this happy. "Everything all right, Tom?"

He swivelled to meet her friendly smile. "Fine, captain. Just looking forward to getting home, is all."

The bridge doors opened and gamma shift assumed their stations. Tom stood up with that easy grace of his and glanced over at the ops console. "Ready, Harry?"

Kathryn followed his gaze.

Harry signed off his console, grinned at his replacement, and nodded. "Ready."

She could bear it no longer. "And where are you two off to this evening? Sandrine's? Restoring another old wreck? Saving the universe again?"

Tom smiled. "No, ma'am. Tonight, it's dinner in Harry's quarters. Just a quiet evening in. Together."

She sat, for once tongue-tied. That last word was loaded with meaning.

---

The sweet and sour chicken was delicious, the lemon ice-cream perfection. Or so Harry swore. Tom wasn't so sure, he wasn't exactly the best cook in Starfleet, but Harry seemed satisfied, which was the main thing. The two of them sat in companionable silence, Tom on the floor with his back against Harry's chair. Right where this whole thing started, realised Harry. As if reading his thoughts, Tom turned to look up at his lover. "Feel familiar?"

Harry grinned. "Yes. Except for one thing. Don't expect to kiss me goodnight and leave like you did that night."

Tom swivelled round and knelt between Harry's legs, meeting his intense stare. "That will never happen. I found something out recently. All this time I've been wanting something from my life, without knowing what it was. Now I've found it and I can't believe I wasted so much time looking, when it was here all the time."

Harry looked down at his friend, struck by the love he saw in those blue eyes. "My mother always had a saying. 'Happiness isn't having what you want, but wanting what you have.' Right now, Tom, I'm the happiest man in the galaxy."

Tom shook his head in disagreement. "You can't be, Harry. Because I am." He pushed himself upright, and leaned in forward to kiss Harry languorously, enjoying the feeling of completeness. Harry broke the kiss.

"Would you settle for a draw?"

Tom laughed. "Okay, Harry. But don't forget you owe me."

Harry was confused, then suddenly his face cleared. "Hang on a sec, Tom."

He clambered out of his chair, over Tom, and ran into the bedroom. A few seconds later he emerged, clad in nothing but a pair of black cotton boxer shorts. "Is this what you meant?"

Tom stood, shrugging out of his jacket. "Definitely. But in that case, I seem to remember owing you something as well." He unzipped his pants and slid them down his legs, revealing the fact that he was wearing nothing under them.

"Oh Christ," muttered Harry in mock despair, "Here we go again."

---

End