by Christopher
---
The characters and all things Trek belong to Paramount. The clothes and
story are mine. Just a little something, it won't scare the horses,
but since society freaks on men in love, let's say it has a PG-13
rating. Feel free to share this with anyone, as long as this header
remains intact. - Christopher <AKA: deagol>
---
'A little something--that's all it needs', thought Ensign
Harry Kim. He looked again at his image in the mirror. Slicked-back black
hair gleams in the overhead illumination. He'd taken care to shave as
close as possible. Though genetics didn't make that usually necessary,
Harry wanted to be a smooth as possible tonight. A black sheer T began
just below the line of his collarbone. Back on Earth this would be woven
silk, but here in this alien quadrant a replicated reasonable facsimile
would have to do. Harry let his right hand glide over the fabric over his
chest. Through the fine weave, only a faint gleam of skin showed until the
hint of a darker almond shape at the center of each pec. He paused to
pinch the shape, hard, and a sharp moan slipped from his lips. The
movement of his fingers caused the biceps of that arm to bunch. Harry
looked at the reflection of his arm and flexed causing the muscle to pop.
He held the pose and slowly rotated the arm to see each muscle's
striation in turn.
'Damn, work out's a bitch but it's worth it', he thought.
He turned a slight profile to the mirror and shifted his weight onto the
leg closest to the mirror. Raising up on the ball of that foot, his black
eyes ran up his calf and along the back of his thigh. He's designed
these pants himself. Loose below the knee, they hid the calves he'd
never felt were full enough. Tighter over the thigh, they showed the thick
muscle that began over the kneecap. Harry twisted forward watching that
muscle dance under the thin black fabric. 'Now that's a real sweet
touch', thought Harry, as his movements opened the slit he'd
designed over the side of his left cheek. 'Not too much to be garish,
but enough to show the hollow those legs lifts gave each cheek.'
Harry continued to caress his image with his eyes. 'Yes, a little
something.' He reached down into a drawer drawing out a thin leather
strap. He brought the strap to his throat fastening it tight around his
neck. He adjusted the strap until the crystal stud at its center nestled
just below the Adam's apple.
"Yes, that's it," muttered Tom Paris as he turned in his
sleep. Looking over at his sleeping beauty from where he studied sensor
readings from the anomaly the ship had encountered that day, 'Tom
must be having quite a dream', thought Ensign Harry Kim.
---
End
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