by Choirboy
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Feedback please!

c. February 2001.

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Tom slammed his brush down on the ledge of his easel and wiped his hands on the rag in disgust. No matter how hard he tried to capture what he felt, it wouldn't come. He sighed and tried to focus his mind. From across the room, the doctor noticed his expression and crossed to where the pilot gazed blankly at the canvas.

"Mr Paris? What is it?"

Tom shook his head. "Sorry, Doc, but whatever it is, it just won't come. She" - he gestured to where the young model reclined in a classic position- "just doesn't inspire me."

The doctor looked over Tom's shoulder at the efforts on the canvas. "Hmm, I see what you mean. Perhaps a change of model is what you need?"

Tom shrugged. "I don't know. I can cope with landscapes easily enough, in fact painting was one of my best subjects at school, but I could never cope with painting the body. I have to feel some kind of rapport with the subject, or it just won't happen for me." He took the canvas off the easel and moved over to the recycler. "Perhaps I should give up trying. After all, I couldn't do this in the Alpha Quadrant, so why should it work for me here?"

"Look at it this way, Ensign. You have a wealth of new experiences to draw on, new vistas and landscapes. In fact, the Delta Quadrant is your new canvas. Why not try with something you're more familiar with?"

Tom turned back to face him. "Such as?"

It was the doctor's turn to shrug. "Why not try a more recent landscape? Something like the bridge, or the messhall? Or even one of your holodeck programs?"

Tom smiled. "That's a very good idea, Doc. A very good idea."

---

"Harry!"

The ensign turned to see Tom approaching him. "Say, Tom, how goes the art classes?"

Tom smiled ruefully. "Not good, I'm afraid, Harry. The doc suggested that I try a change of subject."

Harry looked quizzically at him. "What does that mean?"

"Well, he thinks my problem is that I don't relate to the model he chose for me. So his suggestion is to either try a completely different type of paintings, such as a landscape, or use a more familiar model."

"Such as?"

Tom shrugged. "I don't know. Starfleet protocols forbid me from using a holographic representation of any of the crew for pleasure, so I guess I'll try and work from a picture of one of the crew."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Did you never think of asking anyone?"

The pilot frowned. "Asking anyone to what?"

Harry sighed in exasperation. "To pose, you idiot!"

Tom was dumbstruck for a moment, then shook his head. "It wouldn't work, Harry. No one on this ship will give up free time for that number of hours just to pose for me."

Harry shrugged and got up to leave. "I would, Tom. You only have to ask, you know." And with that he was gone.

Tom caught up with Harry in the corridor. "Hey, Harry, hang on a sec. Did you mean what you said? You'd sit for me?"

Harry smiled. "C'mon, Tom, its no big deal. All I'd have to do is just relax and not move for a while. I can certainly cope with that."

Tom sighed. "No, you don't understand, Harry. It's not just a one off session. It could take ages. Plus, you'd have to cope with seeing me in a bad mood when it didn't go right, holding the same pose for hours at a time, and then you might not be happy with the result."

Harry snorted. "You? In a bad mood? Boy, I'm quaking now."

Tom grinned back. "Just because you've never seen me in a bad mood doesn't mean I don't have them, you know. I can get pretty snarly when I'm working."

Harry pressed the panel to his quarters. "Look, Tom, the offer's there if you want it. OK?" He turned to enter his room, but stopped as Tom grabbed his shoulder. "OK, Ensign, it's a deal."

Harry nodded. "When and where?"

Tom considered. "Well, we're both off tomorrow evening. How about then? My quarters, say 1900 hours?"

They agreed, and Tom moved off with a strange feeling in his stomach. He wasn't sure if Harry knew what he was getting into. Nor for that matter, was he sure himself.

---

The doorchime rang at 1900 exactly. "Come in!" yelled Tom, straightening the canvas.

The door swished open and Harry walked in, clad in his Starfleet uniform. "Hi, Tom. I wasn't sure what to wear, so I thought I'd stay formal. If this isn't right. . . "

Tom didn't look up from his easel as he sharpened pencils and charcoal. "Doesn't matter, Harry, whatever you want."

Harry looked around the room, which had been cleared of the clutter that usually seemed to inhabit Tom's quarters. A chair sat in the middle of the living area, with a spotlight from the ceiling directed at it.

Tom gestured vaguely with a pencil. "Have a seat, Harry, make yourself comfortable. Do you want a drink or anything?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks." He moved across to the chair and settled himself under the spotlight, trying to relax in the unusual setting.

Tom finished fussing with his paraphernalia and finally turned to the easel. He looked up at Harry. "Er, Harry? Aren't you slightly. . . overdressed?"

"What do you mean?"

Tom suddenly froze. "Oh, shit."

Harry's eyes met Tom's. "You mean. . . "

Tom nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. I do nudes, Harry."

Harry flushed. "Oh, shit," he agreed.

Tom moved over to Harry. "Look, it's OK if you want to pull out, you know. Sorry, I just thought that you understood, but I should have explained myself properly."

Harry stood up. "No, Tom, I said I'd help you. It's my fault. It's just going to take a bit of time, that's all."

Tom considered for a moment. "How would you feel about taking it one stage at a time, Harry?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what say we start with a few sketches of your face? Then when you feel more comfortable, we can lose the shirt?"

Harry considered this for a moment. "OK, let's try. But can we stop if I feel. . . "

Tom nodded hastily. "Sure, Harry, we'll take it as slow as you want, OK?"

"OK."


The first session proceeded well. Harry soon relaxed, knowing that he hadn't disappointed his friend. Tom was pleased that Harry trusted him enough to try this unorthodox turn to their friendship. He quickly produced several sketches of Harry's face and neck, occasionally asking his friend to turn to one side or tilt his head to a certain position. Eventually Tom felt that Harry was relaxed enough, and raised an enquiring eyebrow at the ensign. "You ready?"

Harry considered the question for a moment, then nodded. Come on, he told himself, what's wrong with you? He'd had his shirt off in front of other men before, after sports at the Academy, not to mention the times he'd been swimming in the communal programmes that ran on the holodeck. But it had never been in such an intimate setting before. He shrugged out of his black uniform jacket and draped it over the couch at the far end of the room, then turned his back on Tom to remove his undershirt. Tom moved forward into the circle of light to adjust the chair slightly.

Harry slipped out of the grey undershirt and dropped it on top of the couch. As he straightened up, he saw Tom's reflection in the mirror above the couch. Not being able to see past the light, Tom was keenly gazing at Harry's back, as if trying to penetrate the gloom at the far end of his quarters. Harry wasn't sure if he was comfortable with his friend's close scrutiny. But, he told himself as he mentally squared his shoulders, you agreed to this. He returned to the pool of light and sat back in the chair. Tom, who had returned to the darkness behind his easel, cleared his throat and raised his voice.

"Computer, adjust the ambient lighting over the chair. Reduce by 20% and add a gold tint."

Harry suddenly found himself bathed in a golden sheen, reminiscent of a summer's day back on Earth. He shivered with the memory. "Hey, Tom, can we increase the temperature slightly?"

Tom didn't answer, transfixed by the sight of Harry's nipples growing erect as they adjusted to the cool atmosphere of his quarters. He shook himself. "Sorry, Harry?"

"Can we turn up the heat a little?"

"Sure. Computer, increase the temperature by two degrees Celsius."

Harry relaxed as the room warmed slightly. "OK, Tom, how do you want me to sit this time?"

Tom braced himself. "Well, if you can sit facing me, slightly slouched in the chair?"

Harry rearranged himself, his crotch pointing directly at Tom.

"And can you move your legs apart slightly?" His friend did as he was asked. Tom held his breath as Harry leaned back in the chair, looking for all the world like a pornographic wet dream. The lighting caught the planes in Harry's smooth, hairless chest, accentuating the shadows under his pecs and the hard ridge of muscle above his waistband. A bang of Harry's waxed black hair dipped forward across his forehead, completing the picture. Tom was suddenly grateful for the gloom in which he stood, as he fought to contain a massive erection which tented the front of his trousers so comically that the old line "Is that a phaser in your pocket, or are you just enjoying the show?" sprang into his mind.

Harry slowly relaxed as Tom continued to sketch. Although he was still nervous about this, he couldn't deny there was something. . . naughty about the amount of attention he was getting. Over the years he had become used to living in Tom's shadow, so even if the attention he was getting came from Tom, it was still a good feeling. He suddenly became aware that Tom had stopped sketching and was looking at him intently. Oh no, he thought, I'm not ready for this.

Tom covered up the easel. "OK, that's it for now, Harry. Same time tomorrow?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and got up to fetch his clothes. He stretched, enjoying the feeling of his spine crackling. "Fine by me, Tom. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure, Harry. If it's OK with you?"

Harry nodded. "That was easy enough, in the end. I'm quite happy to carry on if you are."

"Great. G'night, Harry."

---

Harry returned to Tom's quarters the following evening feeling even more nervous than he had the previous night. The realisation that he was going to be posing naked for his best friend was looming large in his mind and he was very aware that this was going to be an excruciating experience for both of them. He had spent ages in front of a mirror, trying different poses, fumbling with his hair and altering the light so many times that the computer's voice had sounded almost fed up with the constant orders. The automatic response "Acknowledged" had held a definite note of "This had better be the last time". He had even wasted a replicator ration choosing various briefs, trying different styles. Although he knew that he wouldn't be wearing them for long, he didn't want Tom to think he wore boring underwear when he was off duty, now did he?

The door chime announced Harry's arrival. Tom opened the door and caught his breath as Harry stood there, looking stunning in a black shirt and what seemed to be black leather trousers, holding a bottle of wine.

"Is this okay?" he asked, waving the bottle. "I just thought it might relax us both, if you don't mind." Tom nodded, unable to speak. He moved aside to let Harry in and they stood in the lounge, both suddenly shy.

"Well, okay!" said Tom, with forced jollity. "Shall we get started?"

Harry nodded and poured them both a glass of wine, while Tom busied himself at his easel.

"Er, Tom? Do you want me. . . stripped straightaway?"

Tom swallowed half his glass convulsively. "Please, Harry. If you're sure?"

Harry nodded, and downed his glass in one gulp. He moved over to the couch and began unbuttoning his shirt. Tom adjusted the light and the room dimmed to the familiar ambience from the previous night. The shirt was draped over the couch, and Harry sat down in the chair to remove his boots. Tom watched from the gloom as first one boot slipped off, then the other.

Harry wore no socks, and his bare feet left small imprints in the carpet as he moved back to the couch. Turning his back, he undid his belt, and pulled it through the loops. The belt joined the shirt, and Harry's hands hovered at the waistband of the leather trousers. He took a deep breath and popped the fastener, then unzipped the fly. Tom held his breath as Harry slipped the trousers down over his thighs, revealing a pair of dazzling white boxer shorts that clung to his every contour. Harry had to be doing this especially for him, he thought. No one could be that unaware of how he looked. He was every gay man's dream come true.

Harry straightened and folded the trousers over the arm of the couch. He swallowed to relieve the dryness in his throat. "Tom, can I just get another drink?"

The pilot jumped to comply, almost knocking over the easel in his haste. He leaned past Harry to fetch the bottle, feeling a jolt of electricity as their skin brushed. Harry moved to take the glass, turning into the light as he did so. Through the brilliant white of Harry's shorts, Tom could just make out a dark patch at Harry's groin. Jesus, he thought, that's Harry's pubic hair. I can't believe this is happening.

Harry drained his second glass and put it down on the side table non-too steadily. Just relax, he told himself. You can do this. He took a deep breath and took hold of the waist of his shorts.

"No, Tom, I'm sorry." Harry grabbed for his trousers and began to dress. "I thought I could, but I was wrong. I'm sorry that I wasted your time." He slipped into his shirt.

"Harry, Harry, calm down!" said Tom. "There's no need to rush this. We can take it as slowly as you want. Is it that you feel uncomfortable being naked in front of me?"

Harry snorted. "Oh, no, Tom. It's the most natural thing in the world, isn't it? Two men, one naked, the other fully clothed!" He began to button up his shirt.

Tom saw his fantasy body disappearing behind a black shirt. He thought desperately.

"What if. . . what if we were both naked?"

"WHAT?"

"Well, you never know, it might relax you if you're not alone."

Harry turned to meet Tom's frantic eyes.

"You're really serious, aren't you?"

Tom nodded sadly. "Who else on this ship is even going to consider the idea of posing naked for me but you, Harry?"

"Who else would trust you not to jump on them, Tom?"

"Well, there is that," said Tom ruefully. God, Harry, if you only knew.

Harry considered the matter for a moment then grinned evilly. "OK, Tom, you're on. But not tonight, eh? I think I need some time to work up to this."

Tom nodded gratefully. "Sure, Harry, whatever you want."

Harry finished buttoning his shirt. "Tomorrow?"

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

The door closed behind his friend, and Tom slumped in the couch, drained by how close he had come to blowing it with Harry, and petrified by what he had agreed to. How was he going to avoid a huge erection with the object of his desire standing right in front of him, and both of them stark bollock naked?

---

The next day passed uneventfully. Both Harry and Tom were on duty, and the bridge seemed unnaturally quiet. The captain and commander exchanged quizzical glances, concerned at the atmosphere on the bridge, but thankfully for Harry, who was standing behind them, that was the only reaction to Tom's and his mood.

The shift ended, and Harry's relief took over. Tom's replacement was running late from his physical with the doctor, and Harry left the bridge without his friend. He paused when he got to the turbolift. Should he wait, or should he act casual, to fool anyone who might be watching. Watching what, he reminded himself. No one knew.

Tom's relief arrived, and he got into the turbolift with Harry. Eventually the doors opened on Harry and Tom's deck. The two of them moved off down the corridor. Harry was the first to break the unnatural silence between them.

"So what time shall we say then, Tom?"

Tom looked up in surprise. "You still want to go through with it, Harry? You've been so quiet all day I wasn't sure if you weren't trying to pluck up courage to tell me you wanted out."

Harry smiled ruefully. "No, I said I'd do it and I will." He grabbed Tom's arm and turned him round. "That is if you're still on. A deal's a deal, remember?"

Tom nodded. "Deal. Shall we say my quarters in an hour or so?"

"Okay." And with that, Harry left for his own quarters.

---

Harry rang the chime outside Tom's quarters, and in response to a muffled "Come in!" stepped inside. The room was lit as it had been the previous evening, but of Tom there was no sign. Just then he entered from the bedroom, clad in a dark bathrobe.

"Hi," he said shyly.

"Hi yourself," replied Harry.

There followed a moment's silence, then Tom spoke. "Are you sure?"

Harry was suddenly sure. "Yeah, let's do this."

Tom smiled encouragingly. "Okay. Computer, seal the doors."

Harry grinned. "Good thinking. The last thing we want is B'Elanna barging in to drag us off to Sandrine's. I don't think she'd understand us at all."

Tom was suddenly serious. "No-one understands me like you do, Harry. This is one hell of a favour you're doing me."

Harry grew serious too. "I know. Tom, you're my best friend. But don't forget, we're in this together."

"Agreed. Want some wine?"

Harry nodded. "I'll get it." He turned and moved over to the replicator. Tom looked at Harry's lean body, clad in the same black shirt and trousers he had been wearing the previous night. Silently willing his body not to let him down, he untied the belt of his robe and let it slip off his shoulders. Harry turned back from the replicator. "Did you want white or. . . "

The words died in his mouth as he saw Tom.

Tom stood absolutely motionless in the spotlight. His broad shoulders were framed in the dim light. Drinking in the vision of Tom that stood before him, Harry saw how the mass of red gold hair that covered Tom's upper torso tapered down to a thin golden line that ran from his navel downward. His long legs seemed to go on forever, covered in the same downy hair, as Harry followed them up to Tom's crotch. Tom's cock was framed by a darker mass of hair. It was long, bigger than Harry's, and rested against two low slung balls, again covered in the same dark gold hair. He gazed at it, wondering idly how big it got when fully erect. He was suddenly aware that he was staring, and swung back to face the replicator, feeling the start of an erection in his shorts. He tried again.

"Did you want white or red, Tom?"

His friend spoke, and a thrill shot through Harry as he realised that Tom had moved across the cabin and now stood directly behind him. His erection grew until it strained against his underwear. "Red, please, Harry."

Harry turned and pressed a glass into Tom's outstretched hand. He relaxed somewhat to see Tom's laughing blue eyes staring into his. "Well, that's my end of the bargain," the pilot said softly.

Harry moved over to the couch, and in an attempt to lighten the mood, joked, "No fair, Tom, you had time to get ready for me."

Tom shrugged his shoulders, causing the light to reflect off his neck and throat. "It's not too hard, really."

Harry gazed down in sudden panic. No, he thought furiously. His erection was clearly visible against the front of his trousers. Help, he begged silently. "Tom, I can't do this."

"Oh come on, Harry, what's the big deal? I did it."

"Tom, I can't!"

His friend put his hands on Harry's shoulders and turned him round so that they were facing each other. "So what is it? You're not ashamed of your body are you? Because if that's it, believe me, you've got nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. You have a fantastic body. Long legs, broad chest, and a great ass." Harry jerked up to see Tom grinning at him. "Come on, Ensign, drop your shorts and stick to your end of the deal!"

Harry shook his head. "Tom. I've got a. . . sort of a problem."

"What? Your hard-on? Come on Harry, you think you're the first man to get an erection?"

Harry was flabbergasted. "You mean - you don't mind?"

Tom smiled again. "I could look at it as a compliment, you know. If it would help, that is."

Harry resigned himself. "Okay, but I'm warning you, Tom. If any of this ever gets out, I'll. . . I'll. . . hand you over to the Borg myself!" He set his glass down and sat on the couch to kick off his boots.

Tom moved over to the opposite chair and settled down to enjoy the act.

Harry stood up and turned away to unbutton his shirt.

Tom sighed. "You know, Harry, I'm gonna see it sooner or later. You might as well face me and get it over with."

Harry nodded. "True. Okay, here goes." He swung around and began unbuttoning his shirt, one clasp at a time. The silky material slid off his shoulders and fell to the floor. He hesitated for a moment, then undid the zipper of his trousers and pushed them down. As he straightened, his huge cock pushed out the front of his shorts. Thank God they don't have a fly, was his first thought. He looked up at Tom, almost wincing to see his reaction.

Tom's cock stood up like a flagpole, a tiny drop of precome glistening at the tip. The pilot lay back in the chair, an easy grin on his face. "See, Harry," he drawled without a hint of embarrassment, "I told you you wouldn't be the first man to get an erection."

Harry's face flamed a deep red. He tried to look anywhere but at Tom's crotch, but his eyes kept being drawn back to that tiny dewdrop shining in the dim light. He glanced down at his shorts, where a similar drop was creating a tiny wet patch at the tip of his erection. Oh hell, he thought, and grabbed at his shorts to try and pull them down nonchalantly. Try as he might, his hands would not obey his brain. "Tom?" he said in a slightly strangled voice. "I. . . I. . . "

Tom stood up and crossed the room, his erection bobbing before him. "Just relax, Harry," he crooned, and dropped to his knees. Pushing Harry's hands away, he slipped his fingers under the waistband and eased them down. Harry stood frozen as his cock bounced free of the elastic, waving in front of the other man's face. He closed his eyes and hung his head in shame at what Tom must be thinking of him.

Abruptly, his mind shut down as he felt Tom's hot mouth close over the end of his cock. Every nerve ending in his body was suddenly alive, as he opened his eyes to see his best friend going down on him. He watched as Tom swallowed him down to his pubic hair, then slowly moved back along the length, licking the underside as he did so. His knees buckled as Tom grabbed Harry's buttocks, caressing them as the younger man writhed in ecstasy. The pilot pulled off Harry for a moment and looked up. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry looked down at his friend and groaned. Grabbing a handful of blonde hair, he forced Tom's head back onto his hungry penis. "God, don't stop!"

Tom grinned around his mouthful. Okay, he thought. Let's just see how far I can take this. His finger found Harry's anus, and he began a circular rubbing motion, slowly increasing the pressure. Harry moaned in pleasure as Tom's finger penetrated his hole, to be followed a moment later by a second. He grunted in pain as a third finger pushed inside him, then relaxed as he became accustomed to the feeling. Tom slid back and forth along Harry's shaft, teasing with his tongue until the young man was writhing in a paroxysm of pleasure. Reaching down, Tom took himself in hand and began jerking off. He was nearing his climax when he felt Harry pull away from him and his hand was jerked away from his friend's hole. He looked up to see Harry leaning down towards him, and braced himself for the right hook that he felt sure would follow.

Harry placed a hand on each of Tom's shoulders and shoved hard. Tom overbalanced and sprawled on his back on the floor. Suddenly, Harry was on top of him, and he opened his mouth again to take Harry's thrusting shaft. He realised that something was different, then suddenly felt his own cock enveloped in a warm cavern as Harry swallowed him whole. They lay there in a classic 69, pressing deeply into each other. This can't be happening, thought Tom. Harry, my friend Harry, lying on top of me, sucking my cock? He felt a building in his balls, and gripped Harry's ass tighter. Harry understood, and increased his thrusts into Tom's mouth. They came together in a huge climax, come spilling out of each other's mouth as they fought frantically to swallow it all.

Harry collapsed on top of Tom, breathing heavily. Eventually he rolled off Tom and moved so that they were lying side by side.

Tom was the first to speak. "I guess you're not so inhibited about taking your clothes off in front of a guy any more, Harry?"

His friend chuckled. "Well, I have to say that your method of relaxing the subject does wonders for their confidence. If we do this every time I have to strip, I'm sure it won't take long before I'm used to it."

Tom propped himself up on one elbow. "We're going to have to do this every time, Harry." He reached down and fondled Harry's now flaccid penis. "My canvas isn't wide enough to get you on otherwise!"

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End