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>
---
Tom Paris stood naked looking at the garments lined up on his bed. These
were the ones Harry had picked for him to wear when they met tonight. Tom
usually chose the current fashion of--'what was that old phrase,'
he thought, 'Oh yes, "politically correct"'--wearing
culturally neutral off-duty clothes. Tom liked the bland colors, the
rustic tailoring, and the blending of shades. He never had to worry about
what went with what. Just grab whatever came to hand. Clothes so boring
they were just one step above wearing basic brown all the time.
Harry had certainly given him a splash of color, and the tailoring had to
be precision work. (Tom smiled remembering Harry taking his measurements
time and again--especially the 'inside leg.' Harry had a unique
approach there!) 'Well, let's start here; this must be an
undergarment,' he thought. The white-white fabric was a soft medium
weight. There was an elastic waistband and a pouch in what must be the
front. Tom stepped into the garment and began sliding them up his bare
thighs. As he approached his waist, he paused to tuck himself into the
pouch. Giving a final tug, he released the waistband with a snap.
'Hmmm,' he thought, ' A little snug, but not
uncomfortable.' He ran his hand over the pouch admiring how it cradled
him, lifting everything up and forward. He traced the outline of the flesh
beneath the fabric, following down the tube curled to the left, pausing at
the end to squeeze the tip and caress the two mounds beneath. His fingers
caused blood to flow, and the pouch swelled. 'Whoa, definitely
can't wear these under the ol' Starfleet issue.'
He turned his attention to the trousers. The yellow fabric was soft, but
felt synthetic, stretchy. It too looked to be a tight fit. From the cut,
Tom could see these fastened in the back. He sat on the end of the bed and
slid his right foot in. A wide band at the bottom fit over the arch of the
foot, and a hole at the heel left the heel bare. Tom pulled the garment up
to the knee and maneuvered his left foot into its cradle. He stood and
completed tugging the trousers up to the waist. The fastenings at the feet
kept the material taught over the calves. Cording at the small of his back
would pull the waistband tight. Tom paused in fastening the pants.
Looking at the next garment in line, he saw the cut of the shirt was full
and loose. It was also long and would look like a tent if not tucked in.
It too had lacing at neckline. "This has to tie in the front.
I'll never get it tied otherwise.' He slipped the white shirt over
his head. Full and loose it did indeed billow almost to the knee. Tom
noticed the loose sleeves flapping and found the small buttons at the
wrist. The wristband was snug causing the sleeve to pillow at the wrist.
Gathered fabric at the shoulder created a similar effect.
Tom gathered up the shirt bottom and tucked it into the trousers. Reaching
behind his waist, he pulled tight on the lacing. Tying them off, he
noticed the strings pulled the waistline snugly into the small of his
back. This caused the seat to mold to his own bottom. Tom admired the full
round bubble of his cheeks. 'Well, Harry does call them his favorite
pillows,' he thought giving them a playful swat. Tom toyed with the
idea of leaving his throat open, but respecting Harry's design, he
tied the opening closed, using the wide cloth bands at each end of the
lace to make a full loose bow.
Tom picked up the next item. It appeared to be cut from a tapestry.
A pattern of blue and gold flowers with silver stems and foliage covered the
front. The back was a silver-gray solid satin. Small fabric buttons
covered with the same pattern as the front closed the front from neck to
waist. Tom began closing the buttons. He noticed that the back panel was
narrower than the front, making him pull his shoulders back and stand
straight. The effect emphasized the width of his chest. He continued
buttoning down to the last just before the top of the trousers. He noticed
a buckle at the lower back and winched it tight. Again the fabric pulled
into the small of his back. Turning from side to side, he admired the
slim, trim silhouette reflected in his full-length mirror. Pulling the bow
from underneath the waistcoat top, he fluffed it out into a pleasing
flounce in the V between the fabric over the top button.
'Proud as a peacock.' Tom ran his eye down his reflection.
The bow brought attention to the wide chest. The leggings highlighted the
strong thighs. Even the wide sleeves seemed to emphasize the size of the
arms beneath.
Reaching down, Tom slipped on the first shoe. It was of black leather with
a silver buckle on top. The wide but thick heel threw his weight forward
as he slipped on the other. Standing, he took a last look in the mirror
and left to meet Harry on the Holodeck.
Walking down the familiar corridors, Tom felt unfamiliar glances as his
fellow shipmates passed by. He wasn't sure what culture had inspired
this garb, but knew it hadn't been seen on board before.
Entering the Holodeck, Tom found Harry had chosen Tom's creation
'Sandrines' for their date. Tom noticed the usual crowd was thin,
but no Harry was present. The proprietress directed him to a table near
the fire. Tom sat on a low slung chair. He stretched his legs out before
him and naturally crossed his legs at the ankle.
Without turning, he sensed the presence of a waiter at his shoulder.
'Would you like something to drink, sir.' Turning Tom saw a figure
in a green tunic. A wide full sleeve similar to his own held a tray. With
a flourish the other arm took the glass from the tray and placed it before
him. Tom took a sip. He savored the taste of his favorite root beer.
"Harry, that's delicious. And, so are you.'
Harry set the tray on the table and took the chair next to his love.
Reaching over his pulled at the bow on Tom's shirt. Pulling it loose,
he said, 'On you, I think I prefer the casual look.' Harry leaned
forward toward Tom, slipped his hand inside the shirt, over the hair
there, and accepted the kiss Tom gave him.
---
End
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