by Judy
---

Disclaimer: The turkey, the Ensign and the Lieutenant (sigh), and everything, belong to Paramount. The story is mine. Copyright 1998.

Warning: Explicit male-male sex, a little prop, discipline. This one turns a bit dark. If male-male relationships and sex and discipline bother you, if Harry spanking Tom bothers you, please read elsewhere. If you are under 18, don't even think about reading it.

Comments are welcome.

Please Archive at ASCEM; BLTS; PKSP. Please leave all disclaimers and warnings intact.

© 7/19/98<

---

B'Elanna cornered her friend Harry at breakfast the morning after the Halloween Dance. Harry looked a little ill at ease as she approached his table. Tom Paris was nowhere in sight. Funny, she thought, they usually ate together. But then Tom had been pulling a lot of extra shifts in sickbay lately. "So, Harry," she greeted.

"Hey," he returned with a nervous smile.

B'Elanna read his body language carefully. Okay, there was something he didn't want to tell her. Must be about his date with Seven last night. "How'd things go with Seven?" she asked, getting right to the heart of matters.

He sputtered on his juice. "B'Elanna, do I ask you about your dates?"

"Nice try, Starfleet. Spill all."

Just then Seven entered the mess hall and B'Elanna took a good look. Maybe Neelix had a point last night when he observed that Seven seemed rather tall as she and Harry had hurried out of Sandrine's. With her Engineering training allowing her to spot misalignments that were only millimeters off, B'Elanna narrowed her eyes and gazed reflectively at Harry. "Or was that Seven you were with?"

Oh, no, Harry felt himself turn beet red. He gave B'Elanna an appraising look. Although he knew he had Tom right where he wanted him, B'Elanna was certainly another matter altogether. "How did you guess?"

So, she was right, B'Elanna hadn't been certain until Harry just admitted it that he hadn't been with Seven. Who . . .? Of course, Tom Paris. Gracing Harry with a conspiratorial look, she answered, "It was Tom." She leaned closer to Harry, "You were with Tom last night. I want to know everything."

Harry was sure she did want to know everything, but he wasn't sure he wanted his relationship with Tom out in the open. Suppose general knowledge of it changed the dynamics? He would have to be very careful. "Look, Maquis, I can't tell you everything." He improvised, "Tom would kill me." Oh, yeah, Tom would kill him with a display of bare Paris butt that would prove irresistible. He felt himself blush again as B'Elanna scrutinized his face. Unconvincingly, he added, "He would."

"So, what can you tell me?"

"We . . . uh . . . we're seeing each other."

"How long?"

"About three - four weeks." Twenty-two days, 10 hours and a few minutes.

"And?"

Obviously such a sketchy detail left B'Elanna wanting more. Harry tried to figure out what he could safely say to her. Yeah, he could just hear himself telling her the truth, that he'd stripped Tom out of that body suit, that he'd played with a butt plug up Tom's ass, that he'd spanked and fucked the man and then gone to sleep next to his lover who's bottom still glowed in the dark? Oh, yes, he had cleaned them both up; he couldn't help cleaning Tom thoroughly inside and out while the pilot slept, occasionally smiling in his sleep. He had to get a grip here, his pants were starting to feel tight. He returned B'Elanna's brown-eyed stare with one of his own. "We . . .we enjoy each other's company."

"Harry, please. You do have sex, don't you?" She had her answer in his nonplused expression. "Good. And Harry, Tom can be a little neglectful. He's going to need a firm hand." She gave her words a moment's reflection. "I was too afraid of my Klingon side doing irreparable harm to give him what he needed."

She smiled broadly at his startled look and thought that this was getting better and better. "Good for you, Starfleet, and I won't tell anyone. Oh, and let me know if you ever want any help." was all she said as she turned her attention to her breakfast.

Harry gave up on his breakfast and gave her a weak smile as he left.

On the bridge Tom had already preceded him. As Harry took up his post and checked out his monitors, every now and again, he caught Tom fidgeting in his seat. Suppressing his smile, Harry attributed Tom's discomfort to the activities of last night. No wonder Tom had gotten here ahead of everyone else on this shift. Obviously, Tom didn't want them to notice how difficult it must have been for him to sit down. Although Tom could have used a dermal regenerator, for reasons of his own, he apparently had chosen not to do so. Harry guessed that Tom liked the reminder of their time together and he smiled to himself at the pleasure he took in ferreting out this tidbit.


At the helm, Tom was acutely aware of Harry's entrance, of Harry's gaze on the back of his neck. However, he risked only a quick glance backward at Harry when Janeway and Chakotay entered to take their seats. He managed to catch Harry's eye and smiled at him, pretending to be smiling at the newcomers on the bridge. If only he was free tonight instead of pulling five hours in sickbay. Halloween had really turned out special, even if he had had to wear that ridiculous outfit and those awful heels. Harry's loving attentions to him had more than made up for any discomfort. Turning back to his console, his smile lingered, now more for himself than anyone else. There must be another holiday coming up soon.

---

A few days later, when he had a free night because he was finally off shift and Harry was practicing music with his wind quartet, Tom spent some time with the computer to determine the next holiday. Neelix's Talaxian holiday of Prixin wouldn't appear for months yet, and Tuvok's celebrations struck him as a little on the severe side. Ah, what was this? Thanksgiving? Although his family hadn't celebrated the ancient US holiday, he remembered Harry mentioning something about it one time. Wasn't it about relatives getting together to eat a large bird called a turkey? Or was that Christmas? Tom wasn't sure. But the computer was quite sure how to describe Thanksgiving.

Hmm, Tom thought, Pilgrim outfits were interesting, Native American outfits more so. But did anyone really believe those holopics of Native Americans in the Northeastern US wearing such skimpy clothing in November? He could have taken survival training in New England in late fall, it was that cold on his few trips there at that time of the year. So, these representations were no doubt somebody's fantasy of how it must have been.

Lots of food possibilities here. He clicked on pictures that showed Thanksgiving celebrations as they'd been enacted through the centuries. One in particular caught his attention. A huge plump cooked bird sat on an enormous platter on a table filled with food. But the turkey, as it was called, occupied center stage. A slender white cylinder rose out of the plumpness of the bird's rump. Apparently he was looking at an old advertisement touting the benefits of buying these succulent toms with their own built-in pop-up thermometers. Interesting, Tom thought, as his inventive mind processed various possibilities for a memorable Thanksgiving for Harry. Well, he had a few weeks to work on this idea. Meantime, perhaps Neelix would be interested in some of his research.

When Neelix and Tom brought up a Thanksgiving holiday meal, the Captain had been more than receptive. Similar to Harry, she had fond memories of Thanksgiving food. She gave them the go-ahead to plan the event and only hoped that Neelix would go along with the traditional recipes without undue experimentation. The holiday was to be a surprise for the crew and would not be announced until a few days before the feast was to begin. She did bring Chakotay in on the plans since he planned the duty rosters and he managed to work out shift rotations that would allow all to spend some time in the mess hall sharing in the meal. For his part, Chakotay's interest was piqued when he realized this celebration had something to do with European Americans thanking Native Americans for their help. As he checked the computer entries, he realized that although this tribe had been far to the north and east of his own ancestors, nonetheless, the idea of tolerance and gratitude that seemed to be at the core of the festivities appealed to him greatly.

In the midst of all of this, and much to his puzzlement, Tom managed to lose another bet to Harry. Mysteriously, Harry told him that he'd collect in due time. Although Harry hadn't been told of the upcoming surprise feast, he had noticed his lover to be more absent than usual. In fact, he complained pointedly at the way Tom was never around anymore. Checking Tom's computer logs had been almost too easy and he puzzled over the meaning of the many hits on Thanksgiving. Just what was his lover planning? Well, he would do a little planning of his own.

---

The holiday arrived and Tom and Neelix supervised and fussed over the meal. As Neelix stood to one side, Tom brought out an immense platter filled with a huge stuffed turkey (replicated). He placed it on the table where the senior staff sat, catching Harry's look of incredulity as he did so. Tom smiled to himself to see Harry's reaction. Brandishing a scoop, he first unstuffed the bird, then replaced the scoop with a large carving knife. He had researched the proper carving of the turkey, nonetheless this was his first attempt. Practicing on a leola root simply didn't count. He was a little nervous tackling this before the crew, especially in front of the captain who was smiling at him as if encouraging an infant to take its first halting steps. His first procedure was to remove the pop-up thermometer the replicator had meticulously copied from Tom's instructions.

B'Elanna looked as if she thought taking a bat'leth to it wouldn't hurt, and Chakotay seemed concerned by the size of the turkey, as if calculating how many replicator rations that thing had taken. The doctor appeared about ready to step in and correct Tom's surgery but a look from the captain had him subsiding in his seat. Seven looked at the turkey, looked at Tom, looked at Harry, looked back at the turkey, and only the gleam in her eyes betrayed her inner bemusement at the customs of humans.

Tuvok and Neelix both kept their eyes on the turkey, but for different reasons. Tuvok meditated briefly on the meaning of stuffing a bird, bringing it to a table, and engaging in ceremony in preparing it for eating. There was sacred, he concluded, and then there was lunacy. For his part, Neelix was determined to help Tom if Tom wavered in his self-appointed task as carver of the turkey. As it was, the slippery bird required Neelix's spotted hand to steady it to keep it on the platter and to prevent it from skating across the table right into the captain's lap.

Tom completed his task with a devilish glint in his eyes. So far there had been no disaster, his lover seemed to appreciate all the trouble he'd gone to, and on top of that, the gravy covered turkey on his plate actually tasted pretty good. It turned out to be a memorable meal.

Although Harry felt content from all the good food he'd eaten, heartened by being able to understand the preparations that had kept Tom away from him, nonetheless, there were nagging issues that he knew he and Tom needed to face. There was a little matter of a debt that Tom still owed Harry. Saving the silver body suit for another occasion, Harry had earlier used some of the replicator rations he'd won off Tom to replicate for him an entirely new outfit, one befitting the theme of Tom's holiday.

On the way to Harry's quarters, Harry complimented Tom on the meal and Tom basked in his praise. It had gone well, Tom conceded to himself, satisfied that all his preparations had pleased his friend and lover. However, once inside Harry's quarters, some of Tom's well being began to dissipate. The ensign smilingly displayed an interesting outfit for Tom's modeling. "No way, Harry," Tom announced when he finally got a good look at what his friend had in mind.

Very softly, Harry reminded him, "You lost the bet, Tom."

"But . . . but that's a dress. A really hideous dress at that!"

"It's a dress especially fitting for this holiday. I really want to see you in it," Harry insisted with a smile. "Besides, be grateful I didn't ask you to wear this out in public. This time."

He took a few steps inside Tom's personal space and whispered in Tom's ear, "And you owe me more than this, you know that, don't you?"

Harry's words sent a shiver through Tom. Feeling miserable over disappointing Harry, Tom confessed, "Harry, I just can't do it. I can't wear that. Please. Ask me for something else. Anything."

Harry noticed Tom's use of the word 'anything'. His lover had used that word before and Harry figured that this time maybe what he had in mind would qualify as 'anything'. But there was a principle involved in the matter of the dress and the bet that couldn't be made to disappear. After being ignored and neglected for weeks, Harry leaned in to hold Tom's eyes in his gaze and to emphasize his softly spoken words, "Tom, I am not happy."

Tom well knew that Harry had been frankly neglected of late, what with the planning for the Thanksgiving feast. Tom had hoped his intense lover would somehow be willing to pass it off as Tom working hard to surprise him with a treat, but with those whispered words, Tom knew he'd have no such luck. Realizing that it was going to be one of those nights, Tom shivered again. Maybe he could explain. "Harry, give me a minute and I can explain. . . I haven't been around, I know that. But I was busy preparing for this holiday, it was supposed to be a surprise for the crew." Tom tried out a pout. "I thought you liked it."

"I did. But I thought I meant more to you than just another crew member. Did it ever occur to you to include me in your plans, let me help you? Hell," Tom winced, Harry usually didn't use such words, "you told Neelix."

Finally, Tom got it. Tom had allowed Neelix to take Harry's place. "You're jealous!"

Harry's face looked angry, his voice sounded angry, and he leaned right into Tom's face. "When are you going to figure out that I'm supposed to be a part of your life? That you ask me to help you? That you tell me about your surprises? What's it going to take, Tom, huh?"

Tom's expression became remote and unfocused as he wondered what it would take. When would it sink in enough to make a difference?

He barely heard Harry's demand that he start taking his clothes off. Then Harry grabbed his shoulders and roughly turned Tom to face him. "Pay attention, Tom. Take off your boots and your pants first."

Mesmerized by Harry's dark eyes, dilated with an inner force that Tom knew preceded a rough, but nonetheless welcome, fucking, Tom hastily pulled off his boots, bracing himself with one hand on Harry's shoulder. Fingers trembling, he undid his pants. Finally, he let the uniform trousers drop and Harry could plainly see the erection that pyramided his lover's underwear. A step closer and that black cloth would be poking Harry in the stomach.

Harry took Tom's hands in his and led the taller man over to the couch. When Harry sat, he dropped Tom's hands, and placed his own broad palms and fingers on Tom's taut buttocks. He massaged the muscles high on his ass through the light cloth of the shorts and catalogued Tom's groans. As Tom began sagging into Harry's hands, Harry knew that Tom was ready. In a cold, stern voice, Harry told him, "You've been ignoring me. You want to welch on a bet. I am not happy with you, Tom."

Caught up in the intensity of the moment, Tom choked, his eyes blurring with tears. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry is not good enough, is it, Tom?" Harry moved his hands from outside the shorts to inside the dark cloth, his hands on Tom's satiny skin, roughly massaging Tom's rounded buttocks, drawing more groans from Tom.

"No," came the soft reply. "I want to make it up to you."

Harry's fingers began to bunch Tom's ass muscles in tight clenches as Tom's cock bounced inside its cloth prison. "I'm glad to hear it. However, this time it's going to be a little different because I am very upset with you. You won't be able to charm your way out of this. Do you understand me?"

Briefly, Tom's mind wandered. If B'Elanna had taken care of his neglect of her in this manner, dealing so directly with him, would they still be together? A sudden hard wrenching of his backside brought him back to the reality of the present. "What?"

"Do you understand, Tom, that this is going to be a little different?"

Tom's breath caught in a ragged inhale. Different? How? "Yes."

Speaking to the computer, Harry commanded, "Computer engage soundproofing and privacy locks. Disengage any monitors to sickbay or elsewhere. Ensure complete privacy."

Tom trembled under Harry's still forceful grip on his bottom. This was an unusual step. What did Harry want him to do besides wear that dreadful costume? Before going further, Harry sternly called his name to once again focus his attention. "Tom."

"Yes?" Tom's breathing was definitely ragged, his heartbeat rapid, and he felt just a trace of fear.

Harry's voice told him, "Any time you use the safeword, I will stop."

It took a lot to swallow. The safeword. That hadn't been mentioned since the first time Harry had told him he'd had an irresistible urge to land a few smacks on Tom's bottom during foreplay. Tom had agreed, hell, he liked the extra sensation that Harry's hand had given to their lovemaking, and the safeword had never been invoked, or even remotely come close to needing to be invoked. After all, Harry never really hurt him. But Harry's quiet invoking of the safeword concept fueled Tom's worries. "What. . . are you going to hurt me?"

With seemingly bottomless dark eyes, Harry looked up at the scared face of his lover. "Yes." He gave Tom a moment to recover from his shock while his hands continued their strong massage. "I want you across my lap. I'm going to spank you."

Tom almost reeled from shock, as Harry's hands fell away, letting him step back. Harry didn't seem to be talking about the familiar pattern of lovemaking where sometimes his exposed ass was subjected to a few slaps before penetration. This . . . this . . . Tom wasn't sure what this was. But at least Harry hadn't told him to take his shorts off. And, gods, what was he going to do about his erection. Looking at Harry's lap, he didn't see a corresponding reaction in Harry. His brain seemed to disengage, leaving him to Harry's mercy. "Uh, huh?"

"Lay across my lap. I'm going to keep my legs apart, I don't want your erection touching anything, you're not to get off on this. Put your head and chest on the couch, your feet on the floor."

In a stupor, Tom did as he was instructed as Harry's hands guided him into position across Harry's thighs. Oh, gods, this felt as if it would get him off almost immediately. But Harry didn't want him to and he tried to damp down his engorged cock. He looked back over his shoulder at Harry still arranging him in position so his ass was high in the air on one of Harry's broad thighs. He almost lost it when Harry's hands went to the waistband of his shorts. Oh, no, he told himself. Not that. But Harry didn't hear his silent pleas and Tom's wiggling was firmly terminated when Harry's angry voice told him to be still.

Harry's hands slowly pulled his shorts down, carefully working underneath Tom to ease his erection out of the tight fabric. It was as if fingers made of fire were touching Tom's tense skin as the shorts moved from his waist, to the center of his ass, to his thighs, to his knees, where Harry left them, effectively tying his legs together. Harry's hand stopped and rested on Tom's pale bottom, small circular movements working out some of the tenseness in Tom's tight muscles.

Tom's fear-seized fingers gripped the couch tightly. He placed his head on the fabric and held his breath, knowing his whole body was reddened by his embarrassment at being in this undignified position. It had to be twenty years or so since he'd been similarly situated. The thought that he'd been a bad boy was so strong that he writhed in anticipation of Harry's next moves. He wanted to have some contact against his very hard cock, some chance for relief for that hardness between his legs. But Harry had been true to his word and Tom's erection simply bobbed in the space between Harry's thighs, unable to achieve friction against thin air.

Thoughts abruptly fled as Harry's left hand settled on the middle of his back, holding his chest down against the other thigh. For a few moments, as Tom held his breath, it seemed as if Harry's right hand moved around a bit, then Tom felt his ass cheeks roughly pulled apart by both of Harry's hands. Then a finger shoved some lube at his fear restricted anus. Worried, Tom only had to wait another moment and he felt something shoved up his ass that was neither a finger nor a penis. It felt like a small spongy but firm butt plug and it opened his anus and kept it open as his sphincter clamped tight around it, unable to close completely. Tom exhaled sharply and shuddered, fear making him tense. His cock had jumped in hardness to the level of titanium.

But there was no relief as Harry's right hand descended on his bare backside. Harry recited Tom's sins in time with the swat. This sin was welching on a bet. Tom's ass bounced upwards at the power of the blow and he was startled by the hot pain that radiated outwards from Harry's strike. Harry had said this would be different. He'd been right. This was different.

With almost no time for recovery, Harry brought his hand down again leaving another reddened handprint on Tom's otherwise pale ass. This time, Tom cried out. It hurt and hurt plenty. Harry told him how bad it was to neglect his lover.

Another blast and Tom whimpered, hoping that this was just a spanking and that Harry would never really hurt him. But very rapidly a fourth, fifth and sixth slap on his unprotected bottom brought gasps of shock from Tom as Harry told him that he was very bad, very bad, very bad. His ass sizzled, as if each spank had left a fire in its wake. Oh, gods, this next one was right on a previous spot. He wiggled and Harry held him firmly. Tom's hand flew back to protect himself and Harry swatted it away and told him, "No. No hands."

"Gods, it hurts," Tom cried.

"It's supposed to," Harry told him grimly.

"But I love you," Tom protested, taking whatever advantage he could gain from the temporary lull in the blows to his backside.

"And I love you, Tom. That's why I'm doing this. I'm not going to let you sabotage our relationship the way you have every other relationship you've ever had."

Tom wasn't sure he understood, but then all his thoughts centered on the fire burning out of control on his bottom. He could be forgiven a lapse in his ability to track a conversation. Couldn't he? But Harry wanted to know if he understood. Honestly, Tom told him, "No."

"You will." Harry shook his right hand as he told Tom, "My hand hurts, but we're not done yet."

Tom gasped, "No, please, Harry." He tried to move around but Harry's left hand remained firmly on his back. Although Tom and Harry both knew that Tom could get up any time he wanted to, they also knew that such an act would upset the balance of their relationship. At this point, Tom was so engrossed in both the anticipation of Harry's next disciplinary act and the searing pain in his butt that he lost all ability to think outside of the box he was in. He knew that he could use the safeword, but unless he thought his life was in danger he really didn't want to use it. Although he wanted to repeatedly say 'no' and 'stop', Tom didn't say anything at all now for fear that he'd say the wrong word. Sounds did come from him in the form of grunts and cries.

Five blows landed one right after the other as fast as Harry could rain them down, one, two, three, four, five, he counted in his head. Most fell on previously reddened parts of his bare buttocks, each lick sending out rippling eddies of heated, searing agony. With each blow, his muscles clinched and clamped around the plug Harry had shoved up his ass. It emphasized how little control he had when he couldn't even shut down his own sphincter. He began to sob, unable to stop himself as the pain intensified with each stroke. His cries drowned out Harry's words. He caught the phrase, "you'll learn", but nothing more.

Every fiber of his being was located in that one area of flesh that glowed hotly in response to Harry's fevered spanking. He sobbed harder, crying into the couch, unable to move except in reaction to the pounding on his butt that lifted his ass in the air with each blow. He felt seared, lacerated inside and out, and ironically, his cock betrayed him with every smack, growing incredibly hard, incredibly sensitized to even the heated air around it. In his side, Tom felt a hard poking that pushed at him as well with every stroke of Harry's hand. It was Harry's cock, seemingly intent on getting in on the action.

Tom's sobs continued unabated as Harry, breathing heavily, simply rested his hands on the center of Tom's back. Finished, Harry held Tom anchored in place so that he didn't slide off. Tom lay limply across Harry's lap, only his cock still active as all of the nerve endings in Tom's bottom screeched their pain throughout his nervous system.

Harry wouldn't describe his reaction as pleasure at Tom's obvious pain, but he felt certain of the rightness of what he had done. As he shook his head, clearing away the shutdown necessitated by his focus on spanking Tom, he carefully surveyed his work. Twenty-five blows delivered in a concentrated area had heated and colored his lover's backside in a patchwork of carmine, but they hadn't raised blisters or otherwise hurt the tender skin. Despite the bright color of Tom's ass, Harry wasn't interested in seeing a dermal regenerator undo all his work just yet. As far as he was concerned, Tom needed to feel the continuing effects of this spanking.

Well, maybe he'd let him partially heal before Tom went on shift tomorrow at noon. Maybe. He wanted to see how Tom was going to act as he began to recover from the worst of it tonight. And he wanted to see how they were going to deal with their erections. Interesting reaction that. He at least had felt some friction against Tom's side, still did, but Tom had been allowed no relief. With Tom's sobs turning into great heaving shudders, he took his right hand off Tom's back and slid it under the man's shaking chest. When he placed his fingers against Tom's cock, his lover screamed wildly and bucked several times in an unchecked, intense orgasm that spurted on Harry's leg and on the floor. Then Tom collapsed against Harry's thighs, totally limp and moaning, "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods . . ."

Harry slid out from under Tom and allowed him to settle against the couch, pulling Tom's long legs up on the cushions and removing his shorts from their mission around his knees. Gods, Harry breathed, his lover's bottom truly glowed like the bridge at red alert. And Harry's cock stirred insistently inside his trousers. Tom's climax had almost been too much for it, neglected as it had been all during the spanking that Harry seemed to deem more important than granting it release. Harry tossed off his clothes and studied how best to deal with this. Perhaps a little healing gel, a few cushions under Tom's slender hips, and maybe he could find relief buried deep inside his lover.

As Tom watched without even lifting his head from the couch, Harry obtained the needed gel and a slick lubricant from the bathroom. Returning, he sat down on the couch, pushing his lover's legs to the side. Carefully, he positioned several cushions under Tom's hips, wincing a little with the tiny gasps that Tom made as his bottom was moved.

"Tom, I'm going to put on something to soothe your backside, something to take a little of the sting out."

A tear stained face turned back to look at him. "Okay. And Harry . . ."

"Yes?" he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it.

"Please fuck me," Tom pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please. I need you."

Harry bent over to touch his face to Tom's. He kissed each eye, his sweaty forehead, the tear stained cheeks, the small ear, the still trembling chin. He let his fingers drag through Tom's damp hair, brushing it out of his face. And he kissed the lips hoping to convey to Tom how very much he was loved. Tom barely responded, seemingly exhausted by the ordeal and by his ship shaking climax.

Harry didn't warm the gel, knowing that the colder it remained, the better. Tom shrieked when Harry's hands smeared generous globs of the chilly gel on his steaming butt. He almost scrambled away on the couch, but Harry restrained him. He spread the gel as gently as he could, noticing how quickly it turned warm, how tense Tom was under his fingers. With all of Tom's ass slicked with the gel, Harry's fingers found the crack between his cheeks and slid his gel smeared fingers inside. Tugging gently, he removed the butt plug, noticing as he did the spasming of his lover's opening. Then, Harry moved to place himself between Tom's legs and pressed his knees against his lover's thighs spreading his legs as far as the confines of the couch would allow.

With Tom's ass raised high by the cushions, Harry's now lubricant covered fingers slid easily into the crack. He patiently explored for Tom's anus, finding it trembling and vibrating against his finger. He used one hand to open the ass cheeks from inside spreading them out over the opening as his hand formed a wedge. Tom gasped but told Harry, "Don't stop, don't stop."

The fingers of his other hand worked slowly and carefully to open Tom's anus even more widely than the achievement of the small plug. As Harry pressed three fingers inside, he felt resistence and moved the fingers insistently in and out, spreading them wider until the resistence gave way with a welcoming internal clenching and unclenching of sphincter muscles. When Harry's probing touched ever so lightly against Tom's prostrate, a mewling sound accompanied Tom's involuntary jerks. Harry kept the fingers inside, still stretching that partially opened aperture so that it would be able to accept Harry's hugely rigid cock. He continued to keep Tom's ass checks open with his other hand and dipped down the thumb to press against the slowly loosening opening.

When Harry felt Tom's anus now responding, relaxing and expanding, he slowly withdrew the fingers, leaving the thumb in place. One handed, he lubed up his no longer patient cock and began to position himself to penetrate to Tom's rectum. He placed his hands on Tom's back far above the still vibrantly glowing ass, and slowly, slowly slotted himself inside Tom's gateway to pleasure. Partly inside, he rested to allow Tom to adjust to this invasion.

But Tom wanted no rest or stillness for Harry's penis. He wanted, no he needed, Harry inside him, fully, deeply, committed to action, to perhaps the hardest action Harry had in him to give. He needed Harry to fuck him until he couldn't move, think, or breathe. He wanted internal pain to match the external pain until all of it would be fused with the pleasure of Harry's filling him fully until Harry himself came. He needed to be fucked as hard as he'd ever been fucked before, harder even. He had to know through such action that Harry still wanted him. Tom moved his ass to allow Harry to impale himself deeper still and told him over and over, "Do it, do it, harder, harder, please, gods, harder."

Harry had been cautious, not really wanting to inflict more pain on Tom, but Tom's encouragement acted on him like a spark to a flame and he pushed inside until there was no more cock length left to fill his lover. He tried to be careful of Tom's flaming backside, but couldn't help some contact and he heard Tom's hiss when he jolted against him. But Tom urged him again to keep going, as if the sex were an analgesic of its own.

Harry pulled back until just the head of his cock remained clutched by Tom's anal muscles. Then he plunged in with a yell and pummeled his partner's insides, then pulled back and repeated the motions over and over. Tom's body jerked with Harry's every bombing run, pierced by Harry's cock stroking in and out of him like a guided photon torpedo. Tom bore back everytime Harry withdrew to engulf Harry's cock with a desperate flexing of his internal muscles. Harry blasted in again so hard his balls slapped Tom's flesh in a sound not unlike the earlier spanking sounds. He slapped again and again and again, barely noticing that each thrust was more forceful, gained more depth and had Tom incoherent with moaning sounds that had no counterpart in words. Harry grunted with the build-up to his own climax. Tom matched his strokes and groans, but finally became incapable of any speech but a keening moan, incapable of any movement save what Harry's violent fucking drove his body to make. With an unrestrained yell, Harry pulsed over and over inside Tom's rectum, filling him with cum that spurted in hard spasms of release.

Much as he wanted to simply collapse against Tom's back, Harry pulled back, sitting down on his heels, not wanting to fall forward on to that still volcanic butt. After resting for long moments where the only sounds were those of their rasping breaths, Harry got up and brought out a wet washcloth from the bathroom to clean them up. He first washed Tom's face with soft strokes of the cloth. His motions remained very gentle as he wiped up cum flowing from Tom's anus. Finished, he dressed quickly and stood for a moment assessing the damage to his partner's backside. As it remained enthroned on its pillows Harry could find no unmarked patches of skin anywhere on that scarlet bare ass.

Tom simply lay still on the couch, paralyzed, helpless, and spent, as Harry replenished the now dried and heated gel on his bottom with fresh, cold salve. Tom didn't even flinch after the first touches. When he was finished, Harry sat back. He wasn't sure he could go through with the next step, but he knew it was necessary. He understood that Tom probably wanted nothing more than to have him pass a dermal regenerator over his skin, to hear Harry tell him how sorry he was for hurting him, and to hear how much he was loved. But this part was very important if all his work was not to be undone. "Tom. I want you to get up now and put on the dress."

A very startled and shocked face looked back at him. "What?"

Calmly, Harry said, "You heard me. I want to see you wear it. You lost the bet, that's the condition. You don't have to put on any underwear if you don't want to since I know that might hurt. But. Put. On. The. Dress. Now. And, no sulking."

Harry watched all the emotions that played across his lover's face, shock, fear, anger, resignation. Somehow Tom had forgotten all about the dress in the heat of the spanking and fucking. To hear Harry's demands now came as a shock to him. Couldn't Harry have forgotten about it? Apparently not. Shit. However, Tom regretfully understood that he'd gotten only what he'd deserved. Harry could actually have been a lot rougher with him considering the magnitude of his neglect. Finally, in an even tone, Tom said, "I'll need help."

Harry smiled at him. "You got it." He reached out a hand and pulled Tom to his feet. For a moment, Tom seemed to sway unsteadily and he winced against the pain from his backside. He took a good look at the helping hand. Somehow it seemed a lot smaller now than it had felt when punishing his butt. "That hurt, Harry."

"It was supposed to hurt like hell. I want you to remember it for a long time."

"Oh, I think you can count it," Tom said wryly. "So. Where's my new outfit?"

It took over an hour to arrange the several layers of the outfit. There was a long line corset that extended down to his waist, drawn together with interlaced ties at the back. In the front the corset sculpted a pair of replicated breasts. There was an inner garment that went from his neck to his ankles, an outer garment that did the same, an apron, a hat to go over a wig. Tom almost lost it over the hat, but allowed Harry to tie the ribbons under his chin after a few perfunctory protests. After all, his ass still burned, particularly when the dress touched his hot skin, and he had no doubt Harry would spank him again if he didn't cooperate.

Harry helped him into white stockings that stretched up his thighs and then into shoes with large buckles on them. Hands at Tom's waist, Harry propelled him over to the mirror and had Tom pose in front of it. The late evening stubble on his chin marred somewhat the effect of a modest Pilgrim woman with a well endowed chest.

Harry beamed into the mirror over Tom's shoulder. "Looks great."

"Happy?" Tom asked.

Harry took several pictures of his lover with a replicated camera. Later, he'd download the photos to his computer station to join those of Tom in the Seven outfit. Tom blushed hotly in each picture, acutely aware not only of how he looked, but also of his still flaming butt. Harry finished with what Tom regarded as his total humiliation, and put his hands on Tom's shoulders and turned him to face him. Harry kissed this beautiful maiden before him deeply on the lips and was pleased when he was kissed back. Harry pulled away a little to gauge Tom's emotional state. A very glazed look was in Tom's eyes and he seemed to be moving as if in a daze. "Harry . . .?"

"I love you, Tom, I cherish you. You are the one I want with me."

Tom's reeling mind latched on to what Harry had said. "You love me?"

"Yes, Tom, I love you. Do you remember what I said? I don't want you sabotaging this relationship?"

Tom nodded, tears filling his eyes. He whispered, "I don't want to do that."

"If this is what it takes . . . Tom, I don't know what else to do with you to prevent that from happening." At Tom's stillborn protest, Harry pressed a finger to those finely shaped lips. "Why didn't you use the safeword?"

Tom looked down. He couldn't face Harry. "I deserved it. I deserved every single swat you gave me and probably more."

Harry lifted up Tom's head with a finger under his chin. His lover's blue eyes were almost opaque with tears. Smiling at Tom, he told him, "Yes, you probably did deserve all that. And in the future you may deserve more. And if you do, I will give it to you until you use the safeword, or you give up your sabotaging behavior, or . . ."

"Or you give up on me?" Tom asked almost afraid of the answer.

"No. I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say, until you tell me you want out."

Harry watched the tears fall from Tom's eyes. "I don't want out, Harry, ever. I love you, I want to be with you. I think . . . I feel safe with you. Yeah, even after you've blistered my butt. It's like that sets a boundary for me. I know . . . I think I know . . ." words seemed to fail Tom as he stepped into Harry's shoulder, sobbing in heartfelt relief that he was still loved. Harry put his arms around his love, and held him close. He patted Tom's shoulder and softly told him over and over how much he loved him. Given Tom's physical condition, from red swollen eyes to red swollen ass, Harry was glad he hadn't made an issue of the dress and Tom's neglect before the holiday celebration. Tom was in no shape to be seen by others on the ship, especially by B'Elanna who'd so graciously offered Harry her help.

As Tom's tears subsided, Harry was surprised to feel an erection pressing against him through the layers of the dress. "Tom?"

Tom's face burned as red as his bottom. His lips formed the words, "Fuck me. Please, Harry. I need this."

Harry thought about the effects of the dress, the spanking, the insecurities that were so much a part of Tom. He backed his lover up against the wall so his shoulders were pressed tightly in place. Then he lifted Tom's skirts and put them in his lover's hands to hold the skirts up high so that they uncovered the bare hips of the slender man. Tom's exposed legs in their white stockings were like pale towers of inspiration, and led to an apex of damp red-gold curls and an insurgent cock that waved at Harry for attention.

Harry pressed his hands against Tom's ribs, trying not to force Tom's still hurting backside against the wall as he took Tom in his mouth. He sucked a few times, then stroked his tongue along the silky length of his lover. He could smell Tom's arousal as well as the slightly herbal scent of the gel on his ass. He licked over Tom's tip, nipped along his shaft, tasted the precum droplets off the head, tongued the balls, heavy in their sacs, and nuzzled the moaning man from Tom's balls to his anus.

Tom spread his legs further apart giving Harry greater access to the hollows and openings that were bathed by Harry's mouth and tongue. Tom moaned almost constantly from the sensations that shot up his cock, up his rectum, that halted any incipient activity in his brain. Harry licked a finger and placed it in Tom's anus, at the same time he once again swallowed Tom's cock into his mouth and sucked on the heated shaft. As the finger fucked him up the ass, Tom fucked Harry's mouth as if he could plant his seed inside Harry's soul and claim him forever. With a shout, Tom came, shooting his cum in great pulses of passion.

Swallowing and licking, Harry collected the cream for his own and withdrew his finger only partway. "Tom, follow along with my finger," Harry urged almost breathless from his own need. The bonnet clad man seemed spent, unable to move of his own volition. Harry pressed his finger deeper up Tom's ass and used it to propel the stumbling man over to the table. Without being asked, Tom kept the dress skirts up and fell across the table, his ass spread out at the edge of the table, his legs wide apart. Harry's finger never left its lodging place and soon it was joined by another as they thrust together up into Tom's rectum, reminding the anal muscles to relax and open to his touch. With three fingers inside, the muscles remembered that this was a signal to unveil a gateway to the heated fissure within.

Taking out his fingers, Harry's eyes slid half closed as he quickly stripped off his clothes, only momentarily taking his eyes off Tom's waiting ass. He spit on his hand and rubbed the spit on his penis. Then he drove his throbbing cock into Tom. From this angle, he couldn't help slamming his body on to Tom's still reddened butt and Tom cried out in pain. Harry paused, ready to slow down, to move his partner, whatever might be necessary to insure Tom's greater comfort. But Tom's hoarse voice begged Harry to fuck him now.

Harry needed no further invitation and he plunged in with all his strength, jolting in and rebounding out, drawing screams from Tom coupled with panted commands to do it harder still. Tom's body thudded against the table, only partly protected by the many skirts of the dress, as Harry slammed into him,. Tom's fingers curled tightly around the edges of the table as he screamed in pleasure and pain and pleaded to be fucked, fucked, fucked. The increasing force of Harry's thrusts simultaneously bruised Tom's hip bones against the table and flamed his bottom against Harry's abdomen in a rushing blast of lust filled rocketry. Harry came screaming Tom's name and couldn't help falling against the other man's bare backside, so hard had he come.

Harry lay there, his cock still at home in Tom's rectum, even as it softened and some semblance of sensation beyond his groin returned to him. Twice now he had come so hard, as if Tom's being spanked and begging to be fucked had loosened all of Harry's restraints to where he tried to rupture his partner apart in total and relentless penetration. Gradually, as he lay breathing heavily across his lover's back, Harry became aware of how much heat he was picking up from Tom's exposed ass. He knew his weight and sweat salted body must be painful to Tom and he began to move off him by placing his weight on his hands resting on the table top. Tom moaned and Harry thought he heard him say, "Do it again."

Harry almost laughed. "Sweetheart, I have my limits." He kissed Tom's face gently as Tom remained prone across the table, the dress hiked above his hips, the red ass cheeks a deep shade of crimson. As Harry stood up, the sight of his lover displayed for him like this was almost enough to bring him to a third erection. Almost. But not quite. Not yet.

As Tom lay there, too punished to move, it felt as if Harry's pounding into him had finally broken down a door, a barrier only partly of flesh and muscle. When Harry's cock filled this home, pounded into it, and claimed every inch of it as his territory, Tom felt paradoxically at peace amidst the violence. This emptiness now left him bereft and anxious. Now he only felt at ease when opened, stretched, filled, and pummeled by Harry's urgent penetration. Tom's body heat should have fused Harry's cock within his internal furnace so that Harry's organ would be lodged there forever. When he'd asked Harry to do it again, he'd meant it, meant that Harry should break down his doors, fill his home, and claim him as Harry's own, so much so that they could never be apart again.

Harry stood unmoving for a few moments more, understanding that somehow he'd touched more than Tom's flesh. This beautiful lover, laying so still across the table, was all his, all of the time. Harry wished he still had the capacity to be inside of him. Well, the night was young, they both were young. Maybe . . . ?

He shook himself out of his reverie and fetched wet cloths. As he cleaned Tom he noticed that there was blood on the cloth and realized that in their frenzy to couple, he'd prepared Tom with no more than a little spit. Considering that he'd then driven inside him so roughly, it was no wonder that the tender tissues inside Tom had split and bled. Harry began to rethink his earlier plan to hold off on the regenerator. After all, he knew something fundamental in their relationship had been cemented tonight. Tom had completely trusted Harry, welcoming him inside an invisible inner sanctum. The visible sanctum stood-in for the far more inaccessible inner reaches of Tom's home. Tom's wildness and his neediness had been brought together through punishment and pleasure.

Harry reached down a hand to help his lover get up, the skirts rustling down in place. Tom's bonnet had come undone and it and the wig remained on the table having mussed Tom's hair into a sandy mass of spikes and damp curls. Smiling broadly at Tom, Harry's eyes warmed the distance between them and melted love motes danced in the air that separated one warm mouth from another.

Tom grinned back at his strong and sturdy lover, his face lit by the love Harry had deposited inside him. Finally finding his voice, and unable to let any moment go by without some comment, Tom smirked, "So, Harry, when's the next holiday? What do you want me to dress up as? Of course, that's assuming you win the next bet. My luck's bound to change . . . and then you wear a dress." Tom's grin faded as he continued to babble. "But I guess if you win, it'll be some kind of woman's outfit, right? You'll probably try to parade me in front of the whole crew. Think again, Harry. And, Harry, someday we really ought to talk about this fixation of yours of putting me into those kinds of clothes."

"Shut up, Tom," Harry responded with a smile, his lips only millimeters from Tom's, so close their breaths were one. He whispered, "Just be glad that I didn't invite B'Elanna over. She's offered to help, you know." At that Tom blanched nicely. Harry added very softly, "Hey, at least I didn't have you dress up as a turkey."

"I think you stuffed me just as well without it," Tom told him breathlessly.

Harry murmured in wonder, "Harry's stuffed Tom."

Tom purred back, "You even remembered the pop-up thermometer." To which Harry responded a little breathlessly, "And it did it's job very well."

Their lips touched and the kiss sparked between them, as loving and tender now as their earlier contact had been punishing and raw. Tom pulled away a little at first, an idea forming in his mind.

"There's an old Earth holiday some of my relatives celebrated. It was called Christmas." With a glint in his eyes and a mock serious look, Tom suggested, "I could be an angel."

At that incongruous image, Harry doubled over, laughing so hard that he pulled Tom down with him. He laughed so hard tears flowed from his eyes. He laughed so hard that he couldn't talk. And he laughed so hard that Tom began laughing with him. They rolled together on the floor, the black satin haired ensign and the fucked Pilgrim maiden, until the maiden yelped in pain as his ass touched the floor. "Harry!"

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End