by CKC
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Triangulation: The location of an unknown point, as in navigation, by the formation of a triangle having the unknown point and two known points as the vertices.

---

Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He hadn't heard his cabin door open, but he knew Tom was there a moment before Tom appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, Harry. . . " Tom leaned nonchalantly against the jamb, arms crossed over his chest, face deliberately neutral.

Harry smiled to himself, careful not to let Tom see - _So that's how it's going to be, eh?_ he thought. _Okay. . . _ He would match T om's casual attitude, even if he strained something in the process.

"Oh. Hi, Tom. . . "

Harry grabbed a towel and bent over, his back to Tom. He took his time drying his legs, moving his rear a little more than was strictly necessary. He almost laughed when he heard Tom quickly draw in his breath, but managed to stifle it before he straightened up. Still facing away, he dried his chest and shoulders, then raised his arms and slowly rubbed his hair. Tom groaned, and this time Harry couldn't suppress his chuckle.

"You really are a tease. . . " said Tom, and Harry shivered in delight at the edge of roughness in Tom's voice.

Harry turned, his heart skipping a beat, as it usually did, at the sight of Tom - flushed, golden, and just slightly tense in the way that meant he was as aware of Harry as Harry was aware of him.

"How can I be a tease?" He turned his back again and resumed his pretense of drying off. "You know everything you see is yours, so I can't. . . " The end of Harry's comment was muffled by Tom's mouth, suddenly fastened on his lips. _Finally!_ he thought, and then allowed himself to be thoroughly and completely kissed.

After a minute or two (he thought, but wasn't counting the seconds), Harry drew back a little and smiled. "You've got twenty minutes to shower and change. We're meeting B'Elanna at the resort." He deliberately brushed against Tom as he freed himself, and grinned at Tom's sigh.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's the occasion?" Tom sounded resigned.

"Nothing in particular," Harry replied, keeping his voice offhand. "But we had a good time last week, and I thought it would be fun to do it again." There was no way he would tell Tom what he had in mind - yet.

He waited until he heard the water running before getting dressed - just shorts and a tank top, but they had been carefully chosen to compliment his deepening tan. The resort had certain advantages over the dimness of Sandrine's. And, he reminded himself, insisting on honesty, he had also chosen these clothes to show off the muscles in his shoulders and thighs that Tom admired in so many interesting ways.

Tom. . . Harry smiled to himself. Three weeks ago he would never have dreamed that their friendship could have so quickly blossomed into. . . whatever this was. Harry carefully did not call it 'just sex,' or 'love,' or anything else - he hardly dared acknowledge what he had in mind - to label it would smack of premeditation and manipulation.

But that night on Taresia had changed Harry's perception of himself, showed him the fallacy of many of his long-held self-images. After he and Tom had left the mess hall, still bantering, they stopped in Tom's room. Harry still blushed at the thought.

That first night back on Voyager, all he could think of was to confess to Tom the self-absorbed words he had said on Taresia - wanting to be special -- thinking, in some way, that he couldn't be his parents' child. . . His face burned in remembered shame, and he squared his shoulders, almost physically shaking off the memory.

The water stopped, and a minute later Tom appeared in the door, toweling himself off. This time Harry couldn't suppress his groan at the sight - lean muscles playing beneath that fair skin which showed every tell-tale flush of desire, damp tousled barley-colored hair that would only lay smooth with coaxing and curses, and a rampant erection Tom was making no move to hide. "What's the matter, Harry?" Tom grinned, but his voice was raspy. Harry swallowed hard when he met Tom's eyes - all the devil-may-care attitude, all Tom's carefully erected barriers were down, and Harry knew he couldn't tease him now. It still took time for Tom to step outside the facade he had created and maintained for so many years, and Harry would not jeopardize the honesty in their hard-won relationship.

In three steps, Harry had him in his arms, and was kissing Tom with a vigor that surprised him. Tom returned the kiss enthusiastically and pulled Harry closer, his erection sandwiched between them. When Tom began squirming urposefully, Harry broke off their kiss and pushed him down on the bed, landing between Tom's legs.

"But we're supposed to. . . B'Elanna. . . " Tom began, but his voice suddenly failed when Harry started to feather kisses up the side of his erection. Tom's hands moved reflexively toward Harry's head, and Harry intercepted them. He laced his fingers in Tom's and held them against the bed as his kisses turned to licks. Tom's hips rose and fell rhythmically, and he made tiny noises of desire that grew when Harry closed his mouth over the rosy head of his erection and sucked gently.

Harry loved this - knowing that he could give Tom such pleasure, knowing that Tom wanted him -- and yet the entire situation was still so new that at times he couldn't believe it was happening. Tom's increasingly frantic movements delighted Harry, and he speeded up his own in response, eliciting a wordless cry from the man beneath him. Their hands twisted together on the bed, fingers flexing, struggling to maintain their stalemate, mirroring the writhing of Tom's body. Tom's cries rose and blended into one long wail of unreleased need which sang in Harry's heart.

_Now,_ he thought, and sucked almost roughly, holding Tom's hands firmly against the bed while Tom bucked uncontrollably and cried out in release. Harry kept his mouth in place until the tension completely left Tom's body, and Tom lay limp on the bed and on his tongue.

Tom groaned, and his hands scrabbled at Harry's shoulders until Harry slid up the bed. Tom traced Harry's slick lips with a quivering finger, while Harry stroked Tom's long smooth back and shoulders.

"You are. . . " Tom shook his head slightly, as if words failed him. "I know I have the reputation of a rake, but I've never, anywhere, met anyone like you." He pulled Harry closer and kissed him gently. "You know, B'Elanna's gonna kill us for being late."

"It's all right. We've still got half-an-hour. . . "

"But you told me twenty minutes," Tom protested.

"I said you had twenty minutes to shower and change. I had other plans for the rest of the time. . . " He grinned and kissed the tip of Tom's nose. "I didn't think you'd object."

"Half-an-hour?" Tom suddenly twisted around, pinning Harry beneath him on the bed. "That's plenty of time. . . " he said, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

"Tom. . . " Harry was already becoming breathless, and a suspicious warmth was settling deep in his belly, but this was supposed to be time for Tom, not for him. "We've really got to get ready. . . "

Tom rubbed himself against Harry's groin and smiled as Harry writhed and groaned. "You're ready, Harry. It won't take long. . . "

Before Harry could protest further, Tom had pulled his shorts and briefs off, and was running gentle fingers up and down the length of his erection. Harry tried to say Tom's name, but nothing came out, so he just settled for loud gasps. Tom grasped Harry more firmly, and licked the tip of his penis, and Harry felt like his body was going to incinerate in one blinding flash of light. His hips moved, his back arched, but he had no conscious volition over the movement - he moved simply because he had to.

Then Tom sucked him into his mouth. Harry cried out at the heat, the pressure, the connection that was forged between them, and came explosively.

When he was aware of himself and his surroundings again, Tom's arms were around him, his around Tom, and his face was nestled in the sweet-smelling angle between Tom's neck and shoulder. Harry inhaled deeply, then kissed the flushed skin.

Tom drew back and looked at Harry appraisingly. "You'll live," he pronounced, as if it didn't really matter to him one way or another.

_Damn!_ thought Harry, _so soon. . . _ But he just returned Tom's look, trying to see past the indifference. Harry wondered if Tom would break off their connection by getting up, but he lay quiet in Harry's arms. For a long moment nothing happened - Tom just looked unconcerned. As Harry peered deeper, something in Tom cracked and gave, and Tom's face suddenly turned mobile - color suffused his cheeks, his mouth opened to suck in a shuddering breath, and the expression in his eyes left Harry stunned. Then a small crease appeared between his brows, his mouth twisted, and Tom lowered his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Fear pricked him, but Harry kept his voice soft, unthreatening. His hands moved gently, comforting rather than arousing. "Tom?"

"Just. . . just looking at you. . . makes my bones shake. . . " Tom rasped, his chest heaving.

Understanding dawned. "And that frightens you. . . " Harry whispered.

"A lot. . . " Tom's struggle to control himself was obvious - Harry watched, amazed, as Tom finally managed to don his usual mask of detachment.

"Is that why you put on your nothing-touches-me face?"

He felt Tom stiffen in his arms, but he continued his unhurried caresses until Tom relaxed a fraction and snorted. "Yeah. I guess it's habit." "It seems like," Harry began, carefully choosing his words, "you've been using it more lately. . . since we've been together."

Tom was still and Harry held his breath. Then Tom nodded once, a staccato jerk. "If. . . if I show too much," he grimaced and shook his head, ". . . if I show how much you mean to me, then. . . something will. . . " He stumbled into silence.

"Something will happen to us?" finished Harry, and Tom nodded.

"Every time I get what I want most, something happens. . . I screw up, or they leave." Tom's eyes grew dark, and his lips trembled. "I'm trying really hard not to screw up. . . and I don't want you to leave, Harry."

"I won't. I promise." Harry held Tom so close that he could feel the blood pounding through Tom's body, and felt the moment when Tom surrendered and relaxed in his arms.

Tom sighed. "You know, B'Elanna's really gonna kill us. . . "

"You're right." Harry gave Tom a quick kiss and rolled over to find his shorts. "Hurry up and get some clothes on, and maybe she'll only insist that we listen to Klingon opera. . . "

---

_The only thing that could make this worse,_ decided B'Elanna, pacing in front of the resort bar, _would be for those two to show up smelling of sex. . . _ The image of Tom and Harry touching each other, curling fingers, opening lips, crying out. . .

Her face grew warm, her breath quickened, and she hastily shut down that thought.

"Computer, time," she demanded, then saw them hurrying toward her. She ignored the computer's answer and stood, arms crossed over her chest, watching them approach. Harry looked embarrassed and contrite, Tom looked - her eyes narrowed - almost defiant. And she caught their scent -- it was obvious they had just had sex.

"B'Elanna," Harry began as they approached, "I'm sorry we're late. . . " His voice trailed off and he blushed.

There was a pause.

Tom raised his chin and looked at her, his eyes almost accusing her of. . . what? But when he spoke, his voice was soft. "Sorry we made you wait, B'Elanna. It was my fault. Guess I'm a bad influence. . . "

She made a noncommittal grunt and turned. "Well, let's get going. . . "

They flanked her, Tom on the left, Harry on her right, and kept up with her brutal pace through the gardens. B'Elanna didn't notice the brilliant flowers and verdant foliage - it was all she could do not to turn around and smack them both. For what? She wasn't sure, but the suspicion crept in that it had something to do with Tom resisting her advances when she was sick with that weird hormonal thing, and his words to her in the turbolift about not being afraid of her Klingon side. . . and now here he was in a relationship with Harry. . . who had been so concerned when she had been injured with the plasma burns, and who had looked so appealing with those spots. . .

She stopped abruptly at the garden wall. "Well?" She glared at Tom.

He sighed theatrically. "Computer, begin subroutine Paris Delta Vee three."

The wall shimmered briefly, then was replaced by a magnificent vista -- slopes of thick emerald foliage plunged toward a turquoise sea. A narrow band of foam-flecked black sand bordered the water and sparkled under the bright sunlight.

B'Elanna leaned forward, eyes wide. It seemed even more beautiful this time -- perhaps the initial shock of the program had worn off, and she was able to appreciate the details, perhaps she was more receptive to the beauty, perhaps she could clearly see what she was missing. . . She mentally shrugged. For whatever reason, the scene moved her, almost painfully. She hated it. She loved it. _Damn them._

"This really is beautiful," said Harry softly, and his hand crept over to Tom's. When their fingers twined together, she turned away and looked out over the cliff again.

"Nice job, Paris," she said, allowing a little of what she felt to resonate in her voice.

"Thanks," he replied, and his off-hand tone set her teeth on edge. She clenched her hands and plunged down the steep path partially hidden in the broad leaves.

The path ended twenty meters later at a small, flat, grassy parcel of land carved out of the mountain-side. Three colorful pairs of wings were precisely arranged across the ledge: red, yellow and blue. The wings were actually thin, flexible rods covered with a diaphanous fabric, with a small harness in the middle. B'Elanna crossed to the furthest wing, the blue one, and started to undo the fastenings on the straps.

"Hey!" Tom shouted behind her. "Have you checked out your glider assembly already?"

She flung down the straps and turned to him, hands on hips. "No, I haven't." He and Harry walked across the grass, still hand-in-hand. B'Elanna swallowed hard. "And I don't see why we have to waste time checking these things out anyway. . . This is supposed to be fun, not another assignment!"

Tom stopped, his face neutral. "Computer, ensure optimal assembly parameters for glider A." He dropped Harry's hand and moved toward the red wing. "You're all set, B'Elanna. Have fun." The words sounded like a curse.

She stood still for a moment, speechless with anger at Tom's insolent tone, wondering if there was any way she could get out of there without hurting Harry's feelings. Then Harry was beside her, his hand resting gently on her arm.

"Can I help you harness up?" He smiled at her tentatively, those rich dark eyes wide and pleading. She didn't shake off his hand, and he seemed to take that as a good sign. "B'Elanna," he murmured, squeezing her arm slightly, "please don't leave. We both want you to stay." She snorted, not trusting her voice. "We do," he continued, "it's just that sometimes Tom. . . he sometimes. . . " His voice trailed off.

"Yeah." She nodded, eyebrows raised, not even trying to hide her sarcasm. "He sure does."

"B'Elanna. . . " he entreated, then stopped, suddenly looking so miserable that she cupped his chin in her hand and wanted, more than anything else she had wanted for almost a month, to kiss him.

But she didn't. Instead, she smiled gently and released him.

"I'd like to stay, Spot." She paused, glancing over his shoulder to see Tom gazing at them, his face as blank as a mask. She murmured, "And don't worry, I'll cut him some more slack. . . " _As if I haven't cut him enough slack already._ But she didn't add that.

Harry's help wasn't really necessary, but B'Elanna suffered it silently and even managed to thank him when the last fastener was cinched and the wing perched lightly on her shoulders.

She stepped carefully to the edge, then glanced over at the other wings. Tom was methodically going over the red wing, checking fastenings, struts and fabric. Harry stood beside him, speaking quietly but intently. She couldn't hear what he said, but Tom suddenly turned to Harry and nodded once, then reached up and drew a single finger down the side of Harry's face.

Her chest was filled with a burning weight and she couldn't breathe for a long moment. _I can't stand this. . . _ She looked out over the water, blinking rapidly. _I must've gotten some grit in my eyes. . . Oh, hell. . . _ And she jumped.

In the two seconds before the thermal caught her, she plummeted toward the cliffs. As she jerked and began to rise, she was almost resentful - then remembered the safeties were on and she wouldn't have died anyway. No, she was glad she had caught the thermal, and swung herself into flight position. _Tom would've made my life miserable if I had crashed,_ she thought, and could almost hear his mocking tone and words.

Her irritation only lasted another minute, as the quiet exhilaration of her flight began to work itself into her soul. She soared out to sea, then banked and turned inland in time to see Harry launch himself over the edge. She watched, breathless, until the thermals caught him and he began to rise and circle. A movement on the ledge caught her eye - Tom stood at the brink, watching Harry's red wing glide out to sea. For a heartbeat she was convinced that he would step off that ledge without his wing, plunging to his death, safeties be damned. She had even drawn breath to shout at him - not that he would have heard - but she didn't realize that until later.

Tom suddenly looked up at her, and she could see him go very still. Then he raised his hand and waved, and she thought he was smiling. So she waved back, swooping close to the ledge, but not so close that she lost the thermals - Tom had warned her about that their first time out. With the feeling that some nagging weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she continued her arc, turning back toward the sea.

When she headed back toward the shore, Harry passed below her, heading out to sea. Tom had already taken off in the yellow wing, and he started making easy loops right off the cliff to gain altitude.

Silent and swift, B'Elanna raced along the cliff edge, banking at the last minute to turn 180 degrees and hurtle back the way she had come. It was liberating, it was glorious. . .

Harry's wing scribed long, lazy ovals as he rose on the thermals. Once he had gained enough height, he would dive toward the waves, shooting across the water in a mad dash, curving back into the thermals in time to ride them back up again.

Tom stayed high, and when she looked up, B'Elanna could see him hovering above her. _Always out of reach. . . _ Then he suddenly dove steeply and performed a complicated and elegant maneuver that she knew no one else would ever manage to recreate. Seemingly against gravity, he ascended to hover again.

They flew for an hour. B'Elanna was the first to slowly descend and land on the beach, where she unfastened her harness and sat on the ebony sand, watching Harry, then Tom set down. After slipping out of their harnesses, they both staggered a little as they walked over to her - it felt strange to have solid ground (or solid deck, she corrected) beneath your feet.

Before either Tom or Harry could say anything, she smiled and launched into her prepared, albeit sincere, speech. "That was wonderful! Thanks for inviting me to join you again." She turned her head just enough that she could see the waves, rather than their faces, and continued. "I'm sorry if I was a little short with you both earlier. . . I guess it's the usual - too much work and not enough r & r. But I'm glad we could do this. . . " Her voice trailed off, uncertain. She glanced at the two men, now sitting side-by-side only a meter away.

They mirrored each other - legs crossed, arms resting on knees, elbows touching, even their heads tilted at that precise angle peculiar to humans. . . The pain that pierced her was so sharp, so unexpected she gasped, then scrambled to her feet.

"B'Elanna?"

"Are you all right?"

They spoke at the same time, the same expression of bewildered concern on their faces as they rose.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied. "I just got a cramp in my leg," and she even went so far as to rub her calf unconvincingly.

Tom got to his knees. "Let me have a look at that," he spoke authoritatively. B'Elanna wasn't expecting his offer of help and backed away.

"I'm fine - it's feeling better already."

"But," began Harry. Before he could say more, B'Elanna called for the arch. "I've still got a million things to do," she called over her shoulder. "See you at the staff meeting tomorrow. . . "

When the doors closed behind her, she felt as if a part of her had been amputated - severed cleanly by the sliding doors. _They're a couple now, Torres,_ she scolded herself, _get over. . . _

She stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor, oblivious to the fact that she caused Geron to practically do a full pirouette to avoid bumping intoher.

_Get over what? There was nothing to get over. . . _ The surge of bitterness she felt at that thought surprised her.

---

Tom stared after her, his hand blindly reaching for Harry's. When their fingers twined together, he closed his eyes and lifted Harry's hand to his lips, brushing them over the soft skin on the back of his hand, turning it over to kiss the warm, tender patch on the inside of his wrist.

He could feel Harry's pulse quicken, and opened his eyes to view the faint glow that crept up Harry's cheeks and down his throat. His breath caught at the sight of Harry looking at him with such tenderness and affection. Tom knew the word he wanted to use to describe that look, but Harry had never said that, and of course Tom couldn't say it first, so. . . But now, he could almost believe that Harry felt that way, and the thought made his stomach tighten and his breath quicken.

"I'm worried about B'Elanna. She seemed really edgy, didn't she?" said Harry, and Tom's stomach plummeted, like a glider that lost the thermals. Had Harry been thinking about B'Elanna when he looked at Tom? Was that why he looked so radiant? _Please, no. . . _ But Harry was expecting an answer - he had to say something.

"Yeah," he agreed, and dropped Harry's hand, turning toward the sea. "But she seemed to enjoy the gliding, at least for a while."

He felt rather than heard Harry step behind him, felt Harry's warmth against his back. Then his arms were around Tom and he was kissing the soft place below Tom's ear. Before he could think, Tom leaned back into Harry's embrace and pressed himself against Harry's chest. It felt so good, but. . . His mind kicked in, and he abruptly stepped out of Harry's clasp.

"Our time's up," he said, not caring that his voice was harsh, almost grating. "I'm going to get some dinner." He wasn't hungry, but the mess hall was public, and he wouldn't have to be alone with Harry there. "Computer, end program." Tom all but ran toward the door.

"Wait," called Harry, and he caught up with Tom as they entered the corridor. "What do you think you're doing?" There was an edge to his voice that Tom seldom heard.

"Getting some dinner," muttered Tom, staring straight ahead. He was totally taken off guard when Harry grabbed his arm and shoved him back against the bulkhead. Harry faced him, nose to nose, his hands flat on the bulkhead on either side of Tom's head.

"What is the matter?" Harry's voice was low, but his anger and frustration were apparent. "What's wrong?"

Tom shot Harry an anguished look before donning his mask of detachment. It was a struggle, it hurt - gods, it hurt so much to shut him out. But he had to. When he had it in place, he looked at Harry again.

"Harry?" Tom was stunned. There was anger in Harry's eyes, yes, but also. . . fear. "Harry?" he repeated, grabbing his arms.

"Please, don't shut me out," Harry whispered, eyes wide with fright. "Don't do this to me, Tom."

"Oh, shit. . . " Tom closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bulkhead. He suddenly felt exhausted. "I'm screwing up again. I'm sorry. . . "

"Don't be sorry!" Harry grabbed Tom's head and Tom opened his eyes to see a frantic, desperate Harry. "You're not screwing up. I just need to know what I can do to help." Harry pulled his face forward and kissed him, hard. "I want to help, Tom. Please, don't push me away. . . " And his voice cracked on the last word.

Tom thought his heart would break - how could he be so selfish, to frighten Harry that way? He was so worried about Harry leaving him that he couldn't see what his actions were doing to Harry. Oh, he was screwing up, big-time. . .

"No, I'd never do that," he murmured, and gathered Harry in his arms, drawing him close. "Oh, Harry, I didn't mean to -- I'll never push you away. . . " Harry's arms crept around Tom's waist. Tom hesitated, feeling Harry shivering in his clasp. "I just. . . I can't. . . " Tom shook his head, frustrated that the words wouldn't come.

Tom held Harry until he stopped shivering, gently stroking his back and cradling Harry's head against his shoulder. The sound of approaching voices traveled down the corridor. _Damn. . . _ All he and Harry needed was to be the subject of more gossip.

"C'mon, Harry. . . " He kept one arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders and steered him away from the voices toward the turbolift. Harry was silent and docilely let himself be led, but his arm slid around Tom's waist again, then, once they were alone in the lift, dropped lower to cup his rear.

Yes, that's where Harry's warm hand belonged. . . Tom directed the lift to deck four, then sighed and tilted his head to rest against Harry's.

Tom didn't speak again until they were in his quarters, however; small talk was beyond him at the moment. When his cabin door shut behind them, Tom turned to Harry and kissed his cheek gently. Harry quickly and unexpectedly twisted, facing Tom, and grabbed his arms.

"Why?" His voice was soft, but his eyes were onyx, hard, glinting in the light. There was no mistaking it - Harry wanted, no, he demanded an answer. "Why do you shut me out?"

Tom stared at him helplessly. How could he answer that? It was not something he chose to do - or, at least, it had been second nature to don thatmask until. . . until Harry and. . .

"I told you," he replied as softly. "I always screw up."

Harry gripped him tighter, almost shaking him. "No - you -- aren't." With a gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob, he roughly hugged Tom. "You aren't screwing up, but when you put on that mask and banish me - I thought I could be patient, and wait, and that gradually you'd let me in. . . " His grip was painfully tight, but Tom moved closer, drawn as much by the anguish in Harry's voice as by his clasp. "But I can't wait, I can't be patient, Tom. . . I love you too much, and I just - can't - stand it. . . "

Tom couldn't speak - his throat simply wouldn't work. Harry's admission that he - Tom - meant something to him, that Harry wanted to be with him, wanted to share his thoughts, wanted to share himself. . . That he loved him. . . Tom blinked, and shook his head, as if to clear it. It was overwhelming.

With a sigh, he buried his face in Harry's hair, running his lips over the silken fall, kissing him, inhaling his scent, revealing more of himself to Harry than he had ever dared show to anyone, ever. He murmured Harry's name between kisses, gathering up courage to voice what he had wanted to say for a long time. . .

"Love, I won't shut you out. . . I'll try so hard not to. . . " He drew back slightly and cupped his hands around Harry's cheeks, staring directly into those velvet eyes. "But if I do, it's a mistake, a habit - I don't mean to. I don't want to hurt you, Harry, and I'll never do so willingly." He paused, and Harry turned his head and kissed Tom's palm. The feel of Harry's soft lips, the tickle of his warm breath, made the words catch in Tom's throat. "I. . . I love you so much. . . "

Then there were no words, just sounds that, although they had no specific meaning, were nevertheless clearly understood by both.

---

B'Elanna roughly slapped the cylindrical magnetic capacitor housing, and it slid obediently back into its tight-fitting coupling. She stared at it for a moment, then laughed humorlessly under her breath. _At least you can still manage to get tab A into slot B. . . _

Then Tom's voice, saying "But we're not going to do that," echoed in her mind. _No, Tom certainly spoke the truth when he said that, despite his seeming capitulation once Chakotay ordered him to. . . to help me._ Had he agreed that he wanted her, was attracted to her just to make sure she didn't tear him up?

Again she heard "Is this when we throw things?" and closed her eyes in shame. Of course he didn't want her - that was typical Tom humor - when the going gets tough, the tough make a smart-ass remark. _No wonder he can barely stand to look at me,_ she thought, opting for one massive self-pitying wallow before banishing Tom from her mind forever, _I practically raped him, with our commanding officer's permission. And he wanted to be with Harry all along. . . _

"Oh, hello, Lieutenant. I didn't expect to see you here this evening." A fresh-faced and blushing Ensign Freddie Bristow appeared at her side, taking her by surprise, and she quickly rose. He continued with a noticeable edge to his voice. "I thought you were spending the evening with Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Kim. . . "

"We broke up early," she began, before realizing how that sounded. "That is, I decided to check on those anomalous capacitor readings since things are fairly quiet. . . " Her voice trailed off. Why was she trying to justify being in Engineering to Bristow? She was the Chief, and it was none of his goddamn business when she was in her own department.

He lifted the tray of tools he carried. "I was going to do the same thing. . . " And he smiled.

"I commend your initiative, Ensign," she replied, trying to be pleased at his actions, instead of wishing him on another ship, preferably in another galaxy, so she could be alone in her misery. She turned back to the open panel. "Now, if you'd hand me the. . . "

---

Tom propped his head up on his hand and looked at Harry sleeping beside him in the bed. He was curled on his side, facing Tom, arms and legs tucked close to his body. A heavy wing of dark hair flopped over his forehead, and Tom gently brushed it back, feeling the expected, and welcome, surge of protectiveness that filled him at the thought of Harry. _He looks about fifteen, and as innocent as a choir- boy. . . _

But that wasn't the real Harry. Tom knew Harry wasn't malicious, or devious, or manipulative, but he suspected - had suspected for a few days - that Harry was trying to. . . direct events in some way. He wasn't positive of this; it was only a feeling, after all, but once or twice he had detected a brief flash of calculation in Harry's usually open countenance. That was unusual enough, but Tom had learned to trust his intuition regarding being manipulated, and his warning signals were lighting up like beacons.

As to exactly what Harry was planning, Tom couldn't begin to guess - not yet -- and Harry obviously had no intention of revealing his plans. Tom just grinned to himself, confident he could discover what Harry had in mind long before Harry got around to telling him. After all, Harry wanted Tom to be more open with him, so why shouldn't Harry be more open with Tom?

Harry sighed and shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his back, arms and legs sprawling. Tom gently lifted Harry's left hand and brought it to his lips, careful not to wake Harry. He studied the long fingers, relaxed and slightly curled, remembering how Harry's strong clasp anchored him in the Akritarian prison. And now Harry provided a different kind of anchor, especially after that disastrous, frightening, frustrating. . . exciting and promising time with . . .

_Enough._ Tom lay back and closed his eyes, although he kept hold of Harry's hand. _It was over before it started._ Now he couldn't shake the feeling of being slightly drunk, blind and weightless; the events of the past few weeks left him happy and prey to regrets, bewildered and satisfied, unsure about himself and supremely confident. When had it started?

He knew exactly when. With Harry, rescued from Taresia, telling the story of Odysseus to Neelix and him. . . Harry, wishing he could be more like his best friend. . . And he, Tom, almost giddy with relief at Harry's close call, confided how much he admired Harry, although he managed to say it in such a way that Harry thought he was just joking. He had tried sincerity with B'Elanna, and that had backfired so badly he wasn't ever going to try it again. . .

He put his hand on Harry's shoulder as they walked down the corridor. He couldn't help himself. He kept up the prattle of nonsense he had started - "Yeah, polite, and tidy. And really, really organized. . . " They both laughed as he kept this up, and he shied away from what he desperately wanted to say - "I admire you for your strength and constancy, your honor and honesty, for the sweetness of your nature and kindness of your heart. . . I love you. . . "

They reached Tom's room, and Harry darted him a glance, suddenly solemn, and walked in. He followed, pondering that look, waving Harry into a chair while he collapsed on the sofa.

"Drink?"

"No, thanks." Harry leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees, staring at the deck.

He wanted to ask what was the matter, wanted to demand to know what was bothering Harry, but he couldn't. Like with so many other things he wanted to say, he could say nothing. So he leaned back, pretending to relax, and waited.

"Tom. . . " Harry hesitated. "When I was on Taresia, when I thought I might be one of them, I said some things. . . " His voice trailed off.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. The way they messed up your DNA, it's no wonder you were confused."

"No. I wasn't confused. I was so. . . so self-absorbed. So egocentric." He sprang from the chair and paced to the port, turning to stare out. "I knew I couldn't be just plain Ensign Kim. I had to be special." He practically spat out the word. "I denied my parents and their sacrifices and love. I even resented the fact that I'm just an ensign - I felt that the Captain, that someoneshould realize my talents and gifts. . . "

"Don't do this." He unconsciously followed Harry over to the port, and his hand hovered a few centimeters from Harry's shoulder, not touching, but sending comfort despite the distance. "You weren't yourself, you were two people battling for Harry. And I know for a fact that everyone on the ship thinks you're special. . . " He abruptly bit off the end of his sentence, frightened that he was revealing far too much. He dropped his hand like it burned and turned away, taking a step toward the sofa.

"Tom."

He was instantly paralyzed. "Yeah?" He kept his voice casual, but didn't turn back. He wasn't sure he could keep his face blank as well - something was surfacing from inside him, something he had been aware of for some time, but which only demanded his attention over the past twenty-four hours. It was like a bubble of air, released deep in the water, slowly but inexorably rising to the surface. It frightened the hell out of him.

"There's more. Last night I woke up and they - the two who wanted to be my wives - were there."

He tried a rakish laugh. "There are men who would've paid to be in your place." A rustle, the soft susurration of rubbing cloth came from behind him. His back tingled with the warmth - real or imagined? -- of Harry standing there.

"But it was wrong," Harry muttered. "They weren't. . . "

Tom waited, not daring to move, afraid that if he touched Harry now he would shatter, like hot glass in cold water; afraid that if he didn't touch Harry now he would ossify, then gradually, almost imperceptibly, erode into dust. Harry rested a hand on his shoulder and he gasped and shivered, unable to suppress his reaction.

"Tom, I knew then what I wanted." Harry's warm breath stirred the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he swayed, then stiffened his knees to remain upright. Harry's fingers dug into his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." He desperately clamped the mask of indifference over his features before he turned to Harry, but felt it slip as he met Harry's eyes. "So, what did you want?" he said, practically choking out the words.

Harry kept his hand on his shoulder, and the corners of his mouth curled up a few millimeters. "You."

The mask dropped as Harry drew his free hand down the side of his face -- _oh it was warm and soft and I can't believe Harry just said that. . . _

Then Harry leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn't just a brushing of lips, tentative, 'can we do this?' kind of kiss - it was an honest, thoughtful, 'I want you' kiss. He ripped off restraint like a dirty garment and tossed it aside, gathering Harry in his arms and returning the kiss with all the fervor he could muster.

They parted a few moments later, both flushed and breathless.

"But why now?. . . " he began, but Harry interrupted him.

"Because all I could think of as I was fighting to escape were you and. . . And I didn't want anything to happen to either of us before I said something. I know I'm not very eloquent, but. . . "

He held Harry in trembling arms. "Hey, we're not here to practice the art of conversation. . . "

Harry's hands snaked down his sides and around his front, rubbing against him in a way that threatened to quickly blow his circuits. "I didn't want to talk. . . "

"Hang on, Harry, unless you want this to be over with as soon as it's begun."

He managed a shaky laugh, then nibbled his way down the side of Harry's face, over his ear, and down his neck to the band of cloth that cut them off from each other.

Harry unfastened the top of his uniform and slid it off his arms, then dragged the jumper over his head. Tom responded in kind, and reveled in the feel of warm flesh beneath his fingers - Harry's flesh.

Harry captured his mouth again, then as quickly released him. "Bed. . . " Harry breathed. "Now. . . "

They dragged each other into the bedroom, then he pushed Harry down on the bed and grabbed his boots, tugging them off. Harry's uniform and briefs followed and he knelt there for a heartbeat, drinking in the sight of Harry - all burnished gold and shining ebony. Then Harry lunged for him, and he was as quickly stripped.

They tangled together on the bed, long legs twining, arms interlaced. Cream and gold, blue and black, blurring and merging into one - a glorious swirling binary system. Harry's hands stroked down his back, and he mirrored those hands down Harry's back, finally cupping the soft cheeks of Harry's rear. He squirmed, and Harry responded in kind, then pulled back from their kiss and looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. "If I do something wrong, tell me. . . "

"Is this your first time with a guy?" He could feel the warmth rise in his face, joining the heat from his body.

"Yeah. But I think I can figure out what to do. . . " Harry smiled gently, and drew a finger down his throat, over his chest, continuing on. . .

He sucked in his breath when Harry's roving hand wrapped around his penis, stroking him gently. He moved his hand down and stroked Harry with the same rhythm, wondering how touching someone else could elicit such pleasure in himself. Then Harry's face grew dim and he stopped wondering about anything. . .

Tom smiled at his memories, already haloed in that glow peculiar to cherished reminiscences. Less than three weeks since that incredible night and he was ready to put his recollections in the embossed leather album. He sighed and kissed Harry's hand again, then slowly, carefully turned away, shifting his hips to accommodate his growing erection. If every thought of Harry gave him an erection, then he'd just have to get used to it.

He settled into the mattress and forced himself to breathe slowly, regularly.

_Think boring thoughts. . . Listening to old Brightman drone on about diplomatic history; watching the complete Andorian dance/poetry cycle in one sitting; scrubbing out the. . . _

Harry shifted behind him, then his hand snaked over Tom's torso, splaying flat against his stomach. Tom groaned almost silently, all thought of sleep immediately banished by Harry's warm touch. Harry shifted again, pressing against Tom's back, and his hand crept lower, finally coming to rest against Tom's penis.

Tom groaned again, this time not as silently, then waited, hardly breathing. Harry didn't move - his hand was relaxed, but the back of it brushed against Tom in the most. . . arousing way. Tom tried a small wiggle, but Harry remained still.

_Asleep. . . Damn him,_ thought Tom, and wondered if he could get out of bed without waking Harry. _If I can just get to the bathroom, I can. . . _

Then Harry's hand twitched and moved, and before Tom could do more than yelp, it encircled his penis firmly.

"Tom. . . " Harry said softly, his breath fluttering over Tom's shoulders. "You awake?"

Tom didn't even bother to answer. He just closed his eyes and shifted experimentally, trying to encourage Harry to do more than just hold him. As he moved back, Harry's erection slid along his rear and they both gasped.

_Oh, please, Harry. . . _

"Tom?"

Although he was surprised, Tom knew exactly what Harry was asking. His first instinct was to pull away, to laugh like it didn't matter, to ask Harry when he figured out he wanted to fuck him. . . But he couldn't - he had promised Harry to try not to shut him out. And the gods knew that the last thing Tom wanted right now was to shut Harry out - of his mind, his heart, or, for that matter, any part of his body that Harry happened to want. . .

"Tom. . . If you don't want to. . . "

Tom rubbed his rear against Harry. "I do want to, Harry, love. . . I just wasn't expecting it."

He heard Harry's snort of laughter. "Well, I did have to do some research." Harry squirmed closer and licked Tom's ear. "And the Doc's eyebrows almost reached his hairline when I asked him for relevant information. . . "

"You're kidding!" Tom twisted around and stared at Harry, shocked. "You didn't really go to the Doc. . . "

Harry nodded, grinning. "I didn't want to make a mistake. I mean, I didn't know if you had ever. . . done that, but I thought I'd find out what to do, just in case."

"Love, you could never make a mistake. . . And yeah, I've had sex with men a couple of times, at the Academy." Tom grinned back, afraid that if he didn't smile, he'd burst into tears. That Harry would research this. . . "So, do you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah. If you want to. . . " Harry stroked him, his fingers teasing all those soft, tender places that he had found early on in their love- making. Tom felt the fire, which had been banked during their discussion, rekindle. Harry kissed him gently. "But only if you want to."

In answer, Tom kissed him back, then rolled onto his stomach. Harry scooted on top of him, kissing his neck, shoulders, down the ridge of his backbone, pausing for a moment to lick the silky skin just below his waist. Tom sighed, relaxing under Harry's ministrations.

Then Harry stroked his rear, and Tom shivered, delighted. His previous encounters with other men had been experimental - he had enjoyed himself, but, once the novelty had worn off, he had never really wanted to repeat the experience. Until Harry.

Harry teased the backs of his thighs and ass, caressing his warming flesh with gentle fingers and lips and tongue until Tom was squirming on the bed. Then he sat up, and Tom almost screamed in frustration. In a moment, however, Harry's warm weight was back. He parted the cheeks of Tom's ass and began to rub, his finger already lubricated. Tom moaned. Sensation after sensation flared through him, and he found himself shifting back, trying to take more of Harry's finger inside. This was already so unlike his previous encounters that he felt like a virgin - and he couldn't wait for Harry to be inside him. . .

Then Harry added another finger, and another, and Tom was up on his elbows and knees, rocking in an age-old rhythm. When Harry slid his fingers out, Tom stilled, panting, waiting for Harry to enter him.

"Tom, turn over, please. . . " Harry hand stroked his flank.

"But, what's wrong?" Tom looked around, confused.

"Nothing. I want to watch you. . . I want to see your eyes."

"Okay. . . " With a breathless shrug, Tom rolled onto his back and waited to see what Harry had in mind. He had only ever done it hands- and-knees, but at this point he was so ready for Harry that he'd twist himself into a pretzel if it meant that Harry would hurry up.

Harry picked up a pillow, then paused. With a smile, he leaned over and kissed Tom, quickly plundering his mouth and leaving him more breathless than before. Then he placed one pillow, two pillows under the small of Tom's back. Tom understood what Harry had in mind, and pulled his knees to his chest, but Harry grasped his ankles and stretched Tom's legs up along his torso. Harry kissed the furry calves, and dipped his head to quickly tongue the soft inner thigh, and Tom thought that if something didn't happen soon, he would have to be sedated.

"Harry. . . "

Harry smiled again, then shifted slightly, and Tom could feel Harry's erection pressing against him. He tensed, then relaxed, and Harry slipped inside. Another tense, relax, push, and Harry was in a little further. He looked up at Harry, whose face was a mask of concentration. _He's trying to go slow. . . _ Tom reached out and grasped Harry's arm.

"In. Now," he managed to get out from between gritted teeth.

Harry gazed at him blankly, then nodded. With one long, slow, agonizingly delicious thrust, he was completely inside Tom. Harry exhaled, his breath shaky, gave a quiet moan, and his eyes fluttered closed. They abruptly opened again, and he looked at Tom, who was wondering if he could stand any more of this pleasure, or if he was going to just come right now.

"Wait," Harry breathed, and held still as Tom tried to calm himself enough not to explode that second.

Once he felt more in control, Tom nodded, once, and Harry began to move. Small thrusts and withdrawals at first, gradually increasing as Tom responded by tilting his hips to take more of Harry. Tom forced his eyes open to see Harry's face, a film of sweat glistening on his upper lip and forehead. Harry's eyes were closed, but, as if he felt Tom's regard, he opened them, and Tom thought he had never seen such a look - Harry, staring with sweet abandon at him while they made love. . .

Then Harry grasped Tom's erection, which was waving in front of him, and Tom knew he was gong to die from sheer ecstasy. There was no doubt in his mind. His heart was pounding far too fast, his lungs heaved, and the blackness was growing at the edge of his vision. Harry stroked him in time with his thrusts until Tom arched his back, slamming into Harry, and came and came and came. . .

And he felt Harry shuddering inside him, heard his gasps, and knew that it was over. Tom spread his legs and pulled Harry's sweaty torso down onto him, cradling him close, too exhausted to do more than feebly stroke Harry's back, murmur blessings, and convey a fraction of the joy and pleasure he had found in his arms. . .

---

Harry whimpered - really, that was all he could call it, if he could have formed the words- and opened his eyes. Tom's face swam in front of him, and he closed his eyes again, so that he could concentrate on what Tom was doing to him and not be distracted by how wonderful Tom looked when he was moving inside him. . .

Harry braced his arms on the mattress and pushed forward, taking in more of Tom than ever before. Tom moaned and shifted slightly, and then Harry's breath caught as Tom clasped his erection, and he couldn't imagine anything in life being better than this. And then Tom began to stroke him in time with his thrusts, and Harry let his head fall back, mouth open, trying desperately to suck in enough air so he wouldn't pass out. _Perfect. . . _

Tom's hand shook, and Harry knew it was only a matter of seconds before Tom would erupt inside him, and that thought was enough to send him over the edge, crying out wordlessly. He felt Tom pause for a heartbeat, then tense and spasm uncontrollably, calling out Harry's name over and over as he orgasmed. Then he collapsed onto Harry, panting, boneless, and Harry held him gently.

With a contented sigh, Harry pried open his eyes and regarded his lover. Tom's hair was damp and dark, spiky from when he had run his hands through it - his skin was flushed and glistening, and Harry could see, and feel, the sprinkling of golden stubble over his jaw. Then Tom opened his eyes and looked at him, and Harry thought he would get lost in that clear blue. Tom was allowing him to see further inside than ever before, and Harry's heart was pierced with the peculiar pain of knowing that Tom trusted him absolutely.

It had been a week since he had confronted Tom, and, in that time, Tom had not shut him out once - Harry felt that he had been given a precious gift. One week of loving each other fully, both physically and emotionally. It had been so overwhelming that Harry had contemplated abandoning his initial plan - but now, even in the middle of his joy, a tiny voice niggled at him, prodded him, and he decided that today was the day to continue. Today he would get B'Elanna alone and tell her how much he loved her.

---

B'Elanna looked up from her tray as Tom and Harry walked into the mess hall. _Good,_ she thought, returning her attention to her tray, _they look happy._ She took another bite of her breakfast, pleased that her hand was steady, and smiled easily when they joined her.

"So, how's life in Engineering?" Tom asked.

"Not bad. I've been able to fix a lot of those little problems that kept cropping up since things have been so quiet." She took another bite, allowing herself one glance at Tom while he studied his food. _Harry's been good for him - he looks happier than I've ever seen him._ She suppressed her sigh.

"You've been working too hard," chimed in Harry. Before she could protest, he continued. "Tom's agreed to help Neelix with some battle sims tonight. Why don't we get in some gliding practice?"

B'Elanna put down her fork and leaned back, cocking her head at Harry. "You don't have to baby me, Spot."

"I'm not!" Harry flushed a little, and B'Elanna regretted using that nickname. It had too many associations, recalled too many things she wanted. . . Harry glanced at Tom briefly, then smiled back at her, lowering his voice. "I just thought we could practice some maneuvers and surprise Tom."

"Oh, have pity on the poor guy," added Tom with a grin. "The last time I helped Neelix, we were on the holodeck for four hours. . . "

"All right, but I refuse to play babysitter every time Tom's busy."

Tom chuckled. Harry flushed again, and just replied, "Don't worry, B'Elanna. That's not what I had in mind."


The day flew by, as most of their days did. B'Elanna found herself thinking about her evening with Harry. . . _It's not a date, Torres,_ she reminded herself, _just two friends getting together._ She had managed to get through a couple of hours without thinking about Harry or Tom.

"Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna turned abruptly, almost bumping into Nicoletti. "Yes?" she barked.

Nicoletti launched into her question, but B'Elanna didn't hear her - the memory of the images that Nicoletti had interrupted were too appealing. She saw Harry facing her, his back pinned to the wall. His eyes were dark as space, and she was falling into them. She leaned forward and bit his. . .

"No!" she shouted, dragging her thoughts back. Nicoletti was backing away, looking as if she'd rather be running. "Sorry." B'Elanna tried a small smile, and Nicoletti stopped. "Um. . . why don't you check with Carey on that?" Nicoletti disappeared.

"Damn, damn, damn," she muttered, sorely tempted to cancel. But she didn't want to cancel. . . "Oh, to hell with it." She grabbed a padd and checked the next item on her list of repairs, concentrating fiercely. There would be no more daydreams.

There weren't.


B'Elanna arranged to stay on duty until right before she was to meet Harry. She had just time enough to change clothes and grab a replicated snack before dashing down the corridor and into Holodeck two.

She saw Harry immediately. He was standing near the bar, talking with Geron, but as soon as he saw her, his face lit up in a way that made her breath catch. He nodded to Geron and joined her, and she suddenly felt awkward and shy.

"Ready, B'Elanna?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and he took her arm - an old-fashioned gesture that disconcerted her even more. But as they walked, Harry talked about neutral topics - his day on the bridge, Tuvok's hissy fit about a security breach in the weapons store, the Captain's running joke with Chakotay. . . By the time they reached the edge of the garden, B'Elanna felt more comfortable, and was able to respond with something like her usual enthusiasm.

Harry ran Tom's subroutine, and they made their way to the launch field. B'Elanna led the way toward the blue glider, but Harry called her back.

"Wait. . . I need to talk with you first."

She turned toward him, surprised to find him blushing and staring at the ground. He looked as if he were screwing up his courage.

"B'Elanna, I need to tell you. . . I mean, I want you to know. . . " He looked even more uncomfortable, then raised his eyes to meet hers. She gasped at what she saw.

_No. . . Not that. . . _

Before she could say anything, he stepped forward and kissed her, very gently.

When he pulled away, she knew that her eyes reflected what she had seen in his. But. . .

"What about Tom?" she rasped.

"We can talk about Tom later," he replied, resting his hands lightly on her upper arms. "Right now I want to talk about us. . . "

"There is no 'us,' Ensign. You are already involved. . . "

"Yes, I am - but, B'Elanna. . . "

"No 'but, B'Elanna,' Harry. You and Tom made your preferences very clear, and I accepted that, even though I. . . " She shut her mouth quickly afraid of saying more, but Harry was nodding.

"Even though you lo. . . "

Without thinking, B'Elanna covered his mouth with her hand and pushed him back against the rocky cliff, her body pressed close to him.

"Don't finish that thought. . . " she growled. His eyes widened, but he didn't struggle. She felt his mouth and cheeks move, felt his warmth spread through her, and belatedly realized that he was kissing the palm of her hand. She inhaled deeply - the sensation pierced her - and caught his scent.

It was too much. With another growl, she took her hand off his mouth, jerked his face to the right and bit his cheek. Her hand stifled his cry of surprise, but his chest heaved, and his hands slid up to her shoulders, holding her firmly.

"Don't lie to me, B'Elanna - you feel it, too."

Motionless in his arms, she was acutely aware of every pounding beat of her heart, every breath he took. She was frozen - unable to step back to the way things had been before, unable to step forward into the possibilities of the future. One breath, "yes," two breaths, "no". . . Slowly, without really realizing it, she nodded.

They both heard the twig snap, saw the figure at the edge of the field turn and stagger back up the path.

"Oh, damn. . . " Harry muttered, releasing B'Elanna, then he sprinted toward the path.

B'Elanna watched him disappear into the dense vegetation. "You bastard. . . " she said, following slowly, feeling the unfamiliar prick of tears.

---

"Don'trundon'trundon'trun. . . " Tom kept repeating his litany as he walked through the resort, barely aware of anyone around him. He made his way to the arch blindly, by instinct. All he could see were Harry and B'Elanna, holding each other as if their lives depended on it. Harry, eyes velvet with a look Tom had thought was for him alone, and a mark -- that mark - on his cheek. Tom rubbed his own cheek, knowing that his mark was long healed, but remembering the initial flare of pain, the surprise, the overwhelming desire. . . And B'Elanna, looking at him as she now looked at Harry. . .

He stumbled and looked around, startled. The corridor. _Harry. . . _ The thought pierced him with a pain so agonizing that he looked down at his chest, half-expecting to see a gush of blood staining the front of his white tee-shirt. _B'Elanna. . . _ The pain made him gasp, and he knew he had to get to his quarters as quickly as possible. If they saw him, followed him. . .

"No!" The sound emerged, unbidden, from his throat.

Clamping his jaw shut, Tom took off down the empty corridor, not stopping, even when he almost mowed down Commander Chakotay, until he was at his cabin.

"Security lock, no override, authorization Paris 214920278," he barked out as he dashed in, continuing across the room, and slamming into the observation port. _Nononononono. . . _

He pressed his hands flat against the port, the surface cool to his touch. He felt as cold as dread, he felt as if he was going to ignite any second, he felt. . . empty. As empty as the vacuum on the other side of the port. The stars, pinpricks of light; the planets, circling unseen; the nebulae, vague shadows. . . so many things out there, but, despite their numbers, nothing could fill that emptiness. He stared out the port, wondering how his body could encompass more emptiness than the unending space that surrounded him.

He leaned his forehead against the port - his head and hands three small points of contact with the universe.

"Harry. . . " His voice broke, but he did not cry. How can emptiness cry? "Harry, I did everything you asked of me. . . Why wasn't that enough?"

The door chime sounded, over and over, but he ignored it. He ignored the sound of Harry repeatedly calling his name, and the pounding on his door.

Eventually the noises stopped.

His communicator chirped.

"Kim to Paris."

He didn't move.

It chirped again.

"Tom, please. . . "

Slowly, carefully, he pulled the commbadge off his tee-shirt and placed it gently at the bottom of his desk drawer. He shut the drawer firmly, cutting off Harry's voice in mid-plea. With the same meticulous care, he washed and undressed, concentrating on each step of his evening ritual. When he stood by the bed, however, he knew he could not rest there - that was where he and Harry. . .

Instead, he snatched up a blanket and pillow and curled up on the couch. Two black hairs stood out starkly against the white of the pillowcase -- Harry's, from last night. Tom picked them off the pillow and placed them on the table, before clutching the pillow to his chest and burying his face in the softness, breathing in Harry's scent, and the fragrance of their love-making. Smells he would have to do without from now on.

He turned out the lights and lay on his side, still holding the pillow. Staring into the darkness, he tried to remember what he was like before Harry. Before B'Elanna. He sighed once, then began to reassemble the pieces of his facade -- the mask he had smashed for Harry. Because Harry had asked him to, had needed him to. And he had done so because Harry had said he loved him. . .

_Enough._

It would not be perfect, it would not be whole, but, he vowed to himself, when he stepped out of his quarters in the morning, he would be wearing his mask again.

---

Harry slipped on his boots, then picked up his hairbrush. Pausing in front of the mirror, he glared at his reflection. _Idiot._ He gave a few fierce swipes of the brush, then dropped it, unheeding. _Fool._

He stepped over the clothes he had worn yesterday, which lay huddled on the deck where he had stripped them off and dropped them last night.

_You did everything you swore you wouldn't - too much, too fast. . . _

His face burned as he remembered standing in the corridor outside Tom's quarters, shouting Tom's name. Pounding on Tom's door until Tuvok told him he'd end up in the brig if he didn't stop. . . Trying to call Tom and receiving no answer, and finally, frantic with guilt and worry, bursting into sickbay, where Kes and the Doctor had obviouslyalready heard something. Demanding that the Doctor monitor Tom's vital signs, then practically shouting at Tuvok when he wouldn't allow him to beam into Tom's quarters. . .

When the Doctor offered to heal the mark -- her mark - on his cheek, Harry had refused. Kes had opened her mouth to say something, but Harry shook his head, and she stayed silent. Seeing it would hurt Tom even more, he knew, but he couldn't just have them erase it, as if nothing had happened.

Kes had finally escorted Harry back to his cabin, reassuring him that they would not let anything happen to Tom, or B'Elanna. . . And he had been too upset to even worry about who had told her what had happened. He had tried to contact B'Elanna, but she would not answer him either. Harry hadn't slept, but spent the night pacing his quarters, wondering if there was any way to salvage his relationship with the two people he loved.

In the morning, Harry went directly to the bridge, skipping breakfast - the thought of food revolted him - and stepped out of the lift into silence and stillness. It only lasted a beat, and then normal activities resumed, but it was long enough. He took his station, ignoring the speculative glances of the crew, and was running his first series of checks when the lift door slid open and Tom stepped out.

Harry stared, horrified, at Tom. At the body that looked like Tom. Harry watched as the stranger stepped over to the conn and relieved the duty pilot, seemingly oblivious to the silence and stillness that had descended. And to Harry.

_He's gone. . . _

Harry searched frantically for any sign of Tom, his Tom, in this cold stranger, but could find no evidence that his Tom had ever inhabited that brittle shell. Actually, he could find no evidence that anything existed inside that body.

Tuvok's request for a report distracted him, and Harry spent the next several hours concentrating on his duties. He stole occasional glances at Tom, sitting, apparently relaxed and comfortable, at the conn, but the sight of that. . . stranger unnerved Harry, and he eventually kept his eyes focused on his read-outs.

The sound of B'Elanna's voice startled him.

"Ensign, are you showing some anomalous readings for the magnetic capacitor?"

"One moment, Lieutenant," he muttered, quickly scanning his panel. "Yes. The variance has increased to zero point one three." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a quick movement at the front of the bridge.

"Damn. . . I'll be right up."

Suddenly Harry's throat was dry, and he swallowed painfully. Soon, too soon, B'Elanna appeared. She hurried over to his station, staring at the padd in her hand, and briskly began to query Harry about the readings. He answered, looking at the thin crescent of cheek visible beneath her fall of hair. Their discussion lasted some minutes, but they were no nearer discovering the cause of the problem than when they began. B'Elanna's frustration was obvious, and, after a final attempt to correct the readings, she shook her head and turned, facing Harry fully for the first time.

She paled when she saw that he still bore her mark. He returned her look, solemn, but could not help glancing over at the conn. The stranger was gone, and Tom was staring at them, eyes wide. _He's still there!_ Harry's heart sang, and he was hard-pressed to suppress the smile that threatened to break through. Without a word, Tom turned back to the conn. His hand shook as he entered a slight course correction.

_I'll make him listen to me tonight. He must listen. . . _ thought Harry. Then the Captain came over to consult with B'Elanna, and Harry turned back to his work, feeling hope for the first time in almost twenty-four hours.

Harry spent the rest of his shift in Engineering, working alongside B'Elanna. She was unusually subdued and glanced at him occasionally, her eyes confused. Harry could sympathize - poor B'Elanna. First he pursues her, then he hares off after Tom when they are discovered, but he still wears her mark, and it's obvious he still wants Tom. . . Hell, he was confused, and he was the one who began this whole mess. _But I'll straighten it all out. . . I promise._ Shift change occurred while they were mopping up their repairs, and B'Elanna ordered Harry out - now. He suspected that she couldn't bear to have him so near, but he complied quickly, making his way up to Tom's quarters. He wanted to get there before Tom.

Luck was with him, and Harry slipped into Tom's empty quarters. He left the lights off - he could see enough in the dim light from the port - and moved into the darker shadows by the desk.

He had only waited a moment or two before the door slid open again and Tom burst in. The door slid shut and he continued across the room, almost slamming himself against the port. He stood there, faintly outlined by the starlight, his labored breathing audible in the stillness. His drooping shoulders and bent head spoke eloquently of his misery, and Harry had to consciously stop himself from running over and gathering him into his arms.

"Tom. . . "

With an oath, Tom whipped around, searching the dim room. "Get out!"

"Tom, we have to talk. . . "

"Computer, lights, one hundred percent!" Both men squinted in the sudden glare. Harry stayed by the desk, while Tom strode to the middle of the room. "I said get out!" he barked, gesturing stiffly toward the door.

"You don't understand. . . " "Understand?" With a shuddering breath, Tom shut his eyes. His face stilled, hardened, and Harry's heart sank. When Tom opened his eyes again, the stranger looked back at Harry with imperturbable coldness. "I understand what that mark means, Harry. I understand what I saw yesterday. Don't tell me that I don't understand."

"But you only understand part of. . . "

"Harry," Tom interrupted, moving toward Harry. His voice was very soft. "If there was any way I could leave the ship right now, I would do it. But there isn't. So I am going to tell you this once, and you will listen: Leave me alone. I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to hear your voice. I have asked the Commander to change my shift rotation as soon as possible. The Captain has agreed to let me move my quarters to another deck. . . "

"No. . . " Harry couldn't believe it - Tom had already consulted with the Captain and Commander? Without even listening to Harry? How dare he. . . He pushed away his anger and tried reason again. "Tom. . . "

"Not another word, Ensign. I've been made a fool of twice, and it won't. . . "

Tom never had time to finish his sentence. Harry's anger erupted, and he launched himself at Tom. Instead of pounding him, however, he pinned Tom's arms in a bear hug and frantically kissed any part of Tom's face he could reach. Tom, taken by surprise, stumbled backward and landed awkwardly on the couch, Harry still holding him.

"Get off. . . " Tom rasped, shifting beneath Harry, sliding sideways along the couch, trying to gain purchase. Harry took advantage of Tom's vulnerable position and settled his weight more firmly on top, while continuing his kisses.

In between kisses, Harry repeated, "I love you, I love you," as much to himself as to Tom. Slowly, so slowly Harry almost didn't notice, Tom began to kiss him back. Harry's frantic pace gradually quieted, and he lingered on Tom's lips, reveling in the taste of him, the feel of him. What he had almostlost. . .

Harry pulled back a little and met Tom's eyes. The stranger was gone -- his Tom was looking back at him, eyes full of pain and confusion and love. He breathed a small sigh of relief, feeling, as he often did, that he was falling into those blue depths. Harry tightened his grip, and Tom moved slightly, experimentally.

"Don't ever doubt that I love you," Harry whispered, wanting, more than anything, to finally banish the misgiving in Tom's eyes.

Tom's gaze moved to Harry's cheek. "What about that?" He nodded toward B'Elanna's mark.

Harry hesitated and considered lying to Tom. He couldn't. "I love her, too."

Tom closed his eyes. "Is that why you went to her?" he whispered.

"I thought it would be a good time to talk to her. I'm so sorry. . . " Harry took a deep breath. "I was being greedy and impatient. I wanted the two of you so much, and you and B'Elanna were not exactly getting along. I thought that if I talked to her alone, and explained that she had hurt you, and that you naturally resented it. . . "

"Oh, naturally. . . " Tom opened his eyes and looked away. Harry felt Tom's body tense beneath him, and he rolled onto the deck, clambered to his knees, and held Tom's face in his hands.

"I know I was an idiot. . . I don't have any excuse for hurting you and B'Elanna so much." He kissed Tom again, fiercely, as if the intensity of their connection could convince Tom of his love, then met his eyes. "I'll go down to sickbay immediately and get her mark removed. First thing tomorrow I'll try to apologize to her, and tell her I made a mistake. . . " He faltered, and lowered his eyes. "That is. . . if you'll forgive me. . . "

Suddenly, Tom was on his knees on the deck beside him, arms wrapped tightly around him, kissing him. Not just kissing him -- devouring him. And Harry could feel himself melting beneath the onslaught of Tom's kisses. Melting and shifting, outlining the shape of the man he loved.

Just as suddenly, Tom pulled away and held Harry at arm's length. "You'd do this? You'd get rid of that mark and tell her you made a mistake?"

"Yes."

"For me? To make me happy?" Disbelief colored his voice.

Harry nodded, putting all the force of his conviction into one word. "Yes."

Tom released him and scrambled to his feet. "You're a fool, Harry." He moved stiffly over to the port and stared out.

"What. . . what do you mean?" Harry was stunned. "Tom?"

"No," Tom sighed and shook his head, "I didn't mean that. You're not a fool. But," he turned, anguish clear on his face, "you would give up something that means so much to you, just to keep me happy." He held out his hands, pleading. "Harry, how can I be happy if I know you're sacrificing something you want so much? I can't ask that of you - I can't ask that of anyone."

Harry slowly crossed the room. "Tom, you're more important to me than anything else. . . "

"No!" Tom shook his head vehemently. "I'm not more important than yourself. Harry, I don't want you to change. I fell in love with Harry Kim, a man of integrity and honor, a man with an inner fire - a fire that drew me to him, like a drowning man to the shore. . . " He grabbed Harry's hands and held them tightly. "I don't want you to betray yourself - breaking faith with who you are and twisting yourself out of true. And I especially don't want you doing it for me!" He dropped Harry's hands and turned back to the port. "I'd rather give you up than be responsible for turning you into someone else. . . "

"But I'd do it gladly. . . "

He whipped around and almost shouted. "But I won't!"

Harry stood there, paralyzed - he had offered to give up B'Elanna to keep Tom - but that wasn't enough, it seemed. Nothing he did pleased Tom. . . "Tell me what I should do. . . "

Tom drew his brows together, his expression darkening. "Me? Me tell you? Oh gods, Harry. . . " He grabbed Harry's arms and practically shook him until his teeth rattled. "You must do what you think right!"

Heart pounding, the blood roaring in his ears, Harry felt dizzy -- he had no idea if Tom was telling the truth. But Tom believed it. Believed in him. And Tom did not lie - not to him.

"Then. . . " He felt as if he were taking a step off a cliff edge and cleared his throat, unwilling to let his voice squeak at a time like this. "Then, I think that you love me. . . and you love B'Elanna."

He waited, patiently. Calmly. Because he knew it was the truth.

Finally, Tom nodded. "Yeah." And he gathered Tom into his arms, reveling in the feel of him, the scent of him, the knowledge that they were bound to each other, always.

With a shaky laugh, Tom said, "Harry, I wish you'd said something to me earlier."

"You would have told me I was crazy."

"Maybe. Then I would've come up with a better plan."

Harry laughed and pulled Tom toward the couch. For the first time, he noticed the pillow and blanket at one end.

"Did you sleep out here last night?" He gently stroked Tom's face.

"Well, 'sleep' is putting it a bit strongly," Tom said. "But I couldn't lie down in our bed without you. . . "

"We make a great pair, don't we?" Harry sighed and sat down, pulling Tom down beside him.

"You mean trio."

"You've come up with a plan?" Harry smiled and kissed him. "Already?"

Tom grinned, then wrapped his arms around Harry. "You inspire me. . . "

---

B'Elanna practically ran into the mess hall. She had wanted to get there earlier and avoid the alpha shift breakfast rush, but events conspired against her - her wake up call had somehow gotten set late, and then she hadn't noticed the tear in her uniform until she had it on, and then had to replicate a new one because she hadn't gotten around to putting her other uniforms in the 'fresher; which depleted her replicator credits, so if she wanted anything for breakfast, she had to go to the mess hall. Now she waited in line, glowering at those in front of her. She wanted to eat and get out of there as fast as possible.

Otherwise, she'd have to see Harry and Tom again.

She sighed. It had been bad enough yesterday. Harry, with her mark still on his cheek, working next to her all afternoon. Tom, pretending he didn't care, but looking at them with hurt-filled eyes. When she had ordered Harry out of Engineering, she knew exactly where he was going. . .

It was the right thing, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.

When it was her turn, she grabbed the first thing to hand from the bowls of food and retreated to a table in the corner. With her back to the room, maybe no one would notice her while she bolted down her meal. She only realized that having her back to the room was a disadvantage after she had sat down, and she didn't want to draw attention to herself by moving around the table, so she shielded her face by propping her cheek on her hand and stared at the mess on her plate. She couldn't see what was going on this way, but she could follow the buzz of morning gossip.

"Dalby saw him yelling and pounding on the door. . . "

". . . on his cheek. . . "

". . . looking like he'd been turned to stone. . . "

". . . asked the Captain to move his quarters. . . "

". . . an emergency beam-in, but Tuvok said no. . . "

Suddenly the room went quiet. Just for a heart-beat. Just long enough to hear a voice - no, not just any voice, but his voice - say, "Hungry, Harry? I sure am." Then the room filled with the hum of conversation again, but now her heart was pounding so hard she couldn't hear anything other than that insistent rhythm. Still, she knew what she had to do.

Escape.

Trying to move fast enough to get out of there quickly, but not so fast that she drew attention to herself, B'Elanna pushed aside her tray, rose and turned.

Only to come face-to-face with Harry and Tom. Who were both sporting identical marks on their cheeks.

She was instantly scalding, and knew her face was scarlet. _Damn them. . . What kind of game are they playing?_

"'Morning, B'Elanna," said Tom, his expression open and gentle.

"'Morning, B'Elanna," echoed Harry. She glanced at him - there was a hint of. . . mischief? on his face.

_Wait a minute. . . _ "Can we join you for breakfast?" asked Tom, and he stepped toward the table, blocking her in.

"Do you mind?" Harry shifted position and cut off her other escape route.

"Well, actually. . . " "Thanks. . . " Between the two of them, they managed to herd B'Elanna into the corner seat, where, unless she made a scene and scrambled over the table, escape was impossible

B'Elanna decided to let them say their piece - she had a healthy respect for both Harry's and Tom's tenacity. If she didn't let them talk to her now, they'd dog her until she did. And make her life miserable in the process. . . _Not that it isn't miserable now._

"Okay, you both," she snapped, but quietly. "What is it?"

They shared a quick glance - she could have sworn they were amused - but remained pleasantly solemn. She looked at Tom, assuming that he would be their spokesman, and was surprised when Harry leaned forward.

"B'Elanna, you've marked both of us, and we all know what that means. We've talked it over," he took Tom's hand in his and gave it a squeeze, "and we both consider ourselves bound to you. . . and to each other."

She stared at them, shutting her mouth when she belatedly realized it was hanging open.

"Just a minute. You're telling me that. . . " Her voice trailed off. What were they telling her? And did she really want to hear it?

Harry nodded as if she had completed her sentence. "That's right. All three of us belong together."

She continued staring, taking in Harry's twinkling eyes, Tom's deceptive innocence. . . and the light dawned.

"You bastards. . . " She rocketed to her feet, fists clenched, but managed to keep her voice at a whisper. "I couldn't help myself on the planet, Paris, and you know it! And as for Harry, well. . . I'm sorry I did what I did. But it's pretty lousy of you two to try and get back at me like this." Damn, the hurt was obvious in her voice. She glared at the startled men and hissed, "Get out of my way. . . "

Tom shifted slightly, and she brushed past him, wanting to pound him into the deck, get him beneath her and mark him again. . .

"B'Elanna, wait. . . ." Harry called out to her.

Tom added, "But you don't understand. . . "

She ignored them.


The day seemed to last forever, but she was quite willing to spend the rest of her life in Engineering if it meant she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts. Or with either of them. . .

She had had to speak to Harry a couple of times over the commlink, but kept it short and cold. And when someone had to go to the bridge, she sent Nicoletti. After all, everyone was always telling her to delegate. This was as good a time as any to start.

At the end of her shift, she decided to start a new series of diagnostics -- so what if it would take half the next shift? She corralled Bristow and began. They took longer than expected, but she wasn't angry. In fact, she welcomed the delay. _They should be finished with dinner and relaxing on the holodeck now. . . _ She would be able to get back to her quarters undisturbed.

As she rounded the corner near her quarters, she saw them, leaning idly against the bulkhead next to her door. _Damn. . . _

"B'Elanna. . . " began Harry, his brows furrowed into that funny little crease she had once dreamed of licking smooth. . .

"Haven't you two done enough? I've said I'm sorry. I feel miserable. You should be very happy. Now leave me alone!"

Then Tom stepped forward, holding his hands out to her, a look of such sweetness on his face that she thought her heart would stop. "B'Elanna, please. . . "

It was too much.

She turned on her heel and took off down the corridor. Where could she go? Someplace where she could hide, but not be alone. Someplace where there were people. . . She rounded a corner and sprinted toward the holodecks, ducking into holodeck two, where the resort was playing.

Ignoring the startled looks of other crewmembers, she dashed past the bar and into the garden. Her feet followed the familiar trail. She was so caught up in her thoughts that it didn't seem strange that the garden's far wall had disappeared, leaving only verdant foliage and a breathtaking view. She continued down the trail, only skidding to a stop when she emerged onto the grassy field.

"Damn!"

She turned to go back the way she had come, but she could hear the sounds of Harry and Tom crashing through the foliage as they came down the trail. That way was cut off. The cliff. . .

She crossed to the edge and scanned for a path, a trail, a handhold. . . Anything that would allow her to avoid the men who pursued her. There was nothing -- it was sheer and unscalable.

That was when the anger cascaded through her.

With a growl deep in her throat, she turned to them, lowering her stance, preparing to fight to get past, if necessary.

They approached her slowly. Harry circled slightly to her left, Tom stayed between her and the path back to the resort. She divided her concentration between the two men and the sheer drop at her back, searching for a weakness she could exploit.

"B'Elanna, we're not teasing you. . . " said Tom, holding his hands out to her again. "I was angry at you earlier for making me want you so much, and then trying to pretend nothing happened. . . even though nothing did happen." His mouth quirked in a half smile and he glanced at Harry, who continued.

"And I was too impatient -- I could see what I wanted, and I snatched at it. . . at you. . . " He took a step closer. "I hurt you and Tom. I didn't mean to, but I did." He took another step. "I'm sorry. . . "

She lunged at him -- could see him tense up a moment before she made contact -- then the two of them were rolling on the ground. His body was firm, his muscles smooth under her hands. B'Elanna pinned Harry beneath her; she could tell he wasn't trying very hard. . . He looked so delicious. . . face flushed, eyes bright, hair unkempt. . . Without thinking, she darted her face down to his and bit him again.

"It's not scary. . . "

Tom's voice came from behind her, and she scrambled off Harry, facing him on her knees. He was squatting on the grass, hands relaxed, looking at her with the same half smile he had earlier.

"Neither of us is scared. . . "

She froze, not wanting to understand him.

"It's true. . . " Harry now. "We just want you with us. . . "

"B'Elanna. . . " Tom dropped to his knees and held out his hands. "Fight me or Harry, but don't fight what you feel. . . "

Still she hesitated. They were serious. But what about her? Did she, could she want this. . . them? Tom was still, hands outstretched, smiling. Welcoming her home. . .

Harry scrambled around beside him, kissed his cheek, then sat, cross-legged, next to him. And smiled at her.

Her heart turned over. _By the gods, the two of them could melt metal. . . _ The fire in her gut that had been banked flared again, vaporizing her anger and frustration. She closed her eyes, just to shut out the two men in front of her for a second. Her flesh tingled, thousands of tiny sparks of electricity danced across her skin. . . She opened her eyes and sprang for Tom.

He was laughing as they wrestled on the ground, crowing with delight, and he swept her into his arms and kissed her fiercely before she turned him on his back and straddled him. She leaned over his face, eyes narrowing, watching him watch her. . . And bit his cheek. Twice. For good measure.

He grabbed her hips and pressed her against him, and she could feel how ready he was. . .

"Heads up, you two!" Harry hissed, and she became aware of the sound of voices at the edge of the garden.

Tom laughed again and shook his head. "B'Elanna, my love, we have the worst timing. . . " He released her, and she rolled off him, blushing again at the unexpected endearment. No one had ever called her 'my love'. . .

"C'mon, we've got to get out of here. . . " Harry extended his hands and helped the two of them to their feet.

Tom looked ruefully at his straining trousers. "Oh, great. Let's put on a show, while we're at it."

"Don't worry, love," replied Harry, giving Tom a pat on the rear. "With these on our faces," he pointed to their fresh marks, "no one's going to notice the state of your trousers."

B'Elanna looked at them. Neither Tom nor Harry seemed bothered by her ferocity, by being marked. . . A bead of blood colored Tom's cheek. Of course.

"Computer, three for emergency beam-out to sickbay. . . "

B'Elanna smiled as they dissolved, grinning at two pair of startled eyes as they reappeared in sickbay. Then she grabbed their hands and was tugging them toward the door before the doctor had a chance to open his mouth.

"Well, really. . . " was all she heard as the door slid shut behind them.

With a spluttered laugh that quickly turned into a feral grin, she stared at Tom and Harry for a moment. "So. . . Where to?"

Harry began to laugh, followed closely by Tom. "Torres, you are wonderful. . . "

"My quarters, I think," said Tom, starting down the corridor. "Why?" B'Elanna was curious.

"'Cause they're closer. . . "

B'Elanna's giddy joy quieted as she looked around Tom's quarters. She'd been here before, sure, but never. . . She looked back and caught Harry giving Tom a quick kiss.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now," replied Harry, his arm around Tom's waist, "we tell you again how much we love you, and, if we're very lucky, you'll believe us."

She looked at the two of them, blonde and dark, black eyes and blue, skin like cream and skin like gold -- so different, yet so alike. . . A thin pain pierced her, welcome for all its agony, and she had trouble breathing for a moment. Then they stepped forward, and she was enveloped in arms, and warmth, and love. . .

So she kicked Harry's feet out from beneath him. He dragged both her and Tom down on top of him, and they landed in a tangled heap on the deck. Tom started laughing again -- a sound that twisted sharply in her gut.

"The bed, B'Elanna, please. . . " he choked out, "I don't think Harry or I am up to the deck. . . "

She twisted around and pinned his shoulders to the deck, her mouth centimeters from his. "Who said you have anything to say about it?" His eyes widened and grew dark, but not in fear. She kissed him, hard, until he groaned and shifted under her. Then she drew back a little and gently worried his lower lip as his hands caressed her back and sides, moving, more slowly than she liked, to cover her breasts.

She released Tom's mouth with a gasp and turned to Harry, kneeling beside them with a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

"Harry, help me," she ordered. "We're going to make him love the deck. . . "

Harry's grin widened, and he pounced on Tom, grabbing his hair and pulling him in for a kiss that made B'Elanna's eyes go wide with shock. _Damn. . . Who'd've thought. . . Harry. . . _ Tom, meanwhile, was squirming beneath her, his erection bulging up against her rear, moaning into Harry's mouth.

"Too many clothes," she muttered, unfastening the front of Tom's shirt and dragging it over his shoulders. "Ahhhh. . . " His chest, heaving as he gasped for air, the muscles playing smoothly beneath the thin skin and tangle of hair, fascinated her. With a growl, she dived for his nipples, gently biting one while pinching the other. Tom's moans increased, and he writhed frantically. His hands were draped around Harry's shoulders, fingers white with pressure. She switched her attention to his fingers, licking each one before bestowing a nip at each fingertip, then moved back to his chest, working her way slowly down his abdomen.

She paused just above the waist-band of his trousers, breathing gently on his flesh, watching it quiver at each puff of warm air. "Harry, come here. . . " She blew across Tom's stomach, her hands holding his hips still. The volume of Tom's moans increased as Harry left his mouth.

B'Elanna undid the top button on Tom's trousers, allowing her hand to brush across his erection, then turned to Harry, who knelt beside her.

"Watch us, Tom. . . "

Grabbing Harry's shoulders, she kissed his lips, moved to those wonderful broad cheekbones, over the delicate eyelids, down his nose, to end up outlining his sculpted mouth with her tongue. Her hands were as busy as her mouth, and she tugged off Harry's shirt at the same time as she pulled away.

Tom stared at them, his eyes burning, his mouth open, panting. _Gods, I could eat him up. . . _ B'Elanna thought.

"Do you like what Harry and I are doing?" B'Elanna grabbed Harry's hand and placed it on the front of her uniform. Harry slid the fastener down, and she shrugged off her top. "Do you want to see more?" Tom nodded, and Harry helped her pull off her jumper, leaving just the tank top.

With a nod, she leaned across Tom and let Harry tug the top over her head. She trembled slightly as the cooler air touched her breasts and felt the nipples contract. Then Harry's mouth and hand were sucking and rubbing them, and she inhaled sharply and arched her back.

Tom's hands settled around her waist, but she pushed them down, giving one to Harry and holding one herself. His fingers twined in hers, and she could feel the tension building in him. With her other hand, she unfastened Tom's trousers and, with Harry's help, slid them over his hips. Then she released his hand and tugged Tom's shoes, socks and trousers off completely, while Harry stripped and moved behind her. His hands snaked around her waist and Tom's hands moved up to join them. In seconds, she was stepping out of her boots and pants, shivering as both pairs of hands stroked over her hips, her flanks, down the length of her thighs. . .

Harry pressed against her back, the firm warmth of him causing the molten fire in her belly to flare up. She pushed back against him, then suddenly twisted in his arms and kissed him, long and hard. She was aware of Harry's lips on hers, his tongue wrestling with her, his erection pressed into her belly. . .

And then other hands stole up her thighs, across her rear, teasing and fluttering against her heated skin. She trembled and ground herself against Harry, anchoring herself as those fingers dipped between her thighs and caressed the slickness there. She moaned into Harry's sweet mouth, and knew she was nearing the edge -- as if she were going to fling herself off the cliff -- but she had wings, and Tom and Harry to keep her from falling.

An arm snaked across her chest, pinning her back against Tom's long torso. warm lips mapped her shoulders and neck. She allowed herself to fall with him as he lay back on the deck, let herself be pillowed on his body. Without a word, Harry moved between their spread legs, his hands preparing her, readying her. He leaned over her and kissed her again, then leaned further and kissed Tom, who was writhing beneath her.

Tired of the teasing, she wrapped her legs around Harry's waist and pinned him to her, his erection bumping her hip, Tom's straining against her rear. Harry chuckled in her ear, shifted slightly, and paused, waiting. She felt the head pressing gently into her, the hands caressing her skin, Tom nipping her neck, Harry tonguing her nipples, and wondered briefly if she could take much more. . .

Yes.

Her legs tightened around Harry's waist, and he plunged into her -- she arched against Tom's warm body and cried out, dragging Harry down against her sweaty chest. She tightened the muscles inside her, grinning as Harry moaned in response. Then she was too busy being washed around by the overwhelming assault of her senses to think of anything save release.

It came a moment later -- Harry tensed above her, then spasmed and dragged her over the edge with him. She fell, without fear. The strong arms she knew were surrounding her would not let her hit bottom.

Sudden coolness on her chest and abdomen roused her -- Harry had rolled off and lay beside them, his body limp, eyes closed. She stretched, smiling slightly at Tom's tense jerk when she rubbed against his erection. She moved again, chuckling at Tom's moan, but also feeling the warmth begin to pulse in her groin.

Slowly, muscles carefully stretching and contracting beneath her cooling skin, she turned over to face him. The dark need in his eyes, coloring his face, made her desire flare and she lunged to fasten her lips to his. She dragged her hands over his shoulders, arms, torso, hot to the touch, while she ground her pelvis into his undulating hips. He gasped into her mouth and pushed against her, the heat of his erection practically igniting her flesh.

With a hoarse cry, she tore herself from his lips and raised her hips to take him in one fast movement. He bucked beneath her, sending another knife-edge of painful desire through her gut. She leaned forward again and bit his neck none too gently -- he jerked and shuddered, gasping for air. His hands encircled her back and pulled her down against him as he maintained his insistent rhythm. More hands joined Tom's, and she was being kissed over and over, first Tom, then Harry, then Tom. . .

Their scents were overwhelming, making her dizzy and warm and aware of every nerve in her body, all at once. Then Tom's breath caught, his body tensed, and then he cried out and thrust himself deeply into her, his climax triggering hers. This time she didn't fall -- she threw herself off the edge, confident that they would catch her. They did.

She ended up in the middle, warmth on either side as they caressed her and each other. Her hands strayed down their chests, past their waists, to rest on their rapidly hardening cocks. Eyebrows raised, she glanced at each man in turn, delighting in their blushes and tightening her grip to make them squirm.

_So much to do. . . _ Her lips curled in a tiny smile. A very wicked tiny smile.

"Harry," she murmured, "I want to watch you take Tom, and then Tom," she turned her head, and almost laughed at the look of embarrassment mixed with desire on his face, "I want to watch you take Harry. Here. On the deck."

She helped them along with kisses, bites, strokes and gentle pinches, until the two men lay boneless beside her.

She kissed Harry, who was too tired to do more than moan quietly into her mouth, then scooted over to taste Tom's mouth.

She looked down into those eyes. . . _I didn't think eyes could be so blue,_ and nibbled on his lips. "Do you like the deck?" she asked between nibbles.

He nodded and threw one arm around her and the other around Harry, drawing them close. "I love the deck. . . "

---

End