by Julad
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Disclaimer: Blah, blah, Paramount. No juveniles. No profit. Men fuck.

Well, here it is, the sequel to something posted over six months ago , but it's probably not necessary to have read it.

Well, I did promise this would contain hot, messy, slashy fucking, but I forgot to mention 'frustrating'. Yes that's right folks, here at the Davies Slash Corporation,we aim to tease. Satisfaction is absolutely not guaranteed. There are, after all, several more installments in this series. I have to maintain interest somehow.

Huge thanks to Anagi for continual encouragement, threats, bribes, criticism, blackmail, advice and love -without which this would never have been finished. Sam.K and envoy helped too. The crappy parts of the story are the parts where I ignored their comments.

Feedback PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAASE!!!!!!!! Constructive criticism welcome.

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Tom said good-bye to B'Elanna, and watched as she said good-bye to Harry. Even though B'Elanna was one of the few women on the ship who hadn't started flirting with Harry in the past three days, her eyes said she was well aware of the change in him. Since becoming Lieutenant Kim, and appearing at dinner and Sandrine's in those pants with that attitude, Harry had come out of his shell, so to speak. More confident, more playful, and definitely more sexual.

At the moment he was playing pool against Batehart. Harry had recently demonstrated a new enthusiasm for the game, because if he flirted outrageously enough, his opponent would make stupid mistakes and miss shots. Batehart had arrogantly assumed he was immune to this trick, but now,when Harry had nearly won the game, he was flustered and very sorry.

Tom watched from afar, enjoying the opportunity to drink in the sight of his gorgeous friend. Blue-black hair gleamed in the light of the bar, and skin glowed warmly against the neutral colour of his casual shirt. His face was suddenly more familiar, more expressive to Tom, more than it had been less than a week ago. They'd spent most of their off-hours together the past few days, talking and joking and enjoying each other's company more than ever.

Tom, especially, was treasuring their new closeness. It made him ridiculously happy. Apparently this thing he had for his friend wasn't going away, and he couldn't even bring himself to care. Loving Harry was an absolute delight, Tom had discovered to his surprise, and he savored these strange new feelings. The constant fluttering in his stomach, the tingling of his skin and heady breathlessness were so exciting, and somehow keeping it a secret made it fun. Harry makes me want to giggle like a schoolgirl Tom laughed to himself. I wonder how long I can keep this up before he catches on?

Or before my stupid little bubble of happiness bursts, whispered the ghost of heartache past.

There was nobody else left in Sandrine's, so Tom strolled slowly over to Harry, watching him try to sink the 8-ball with Batehart's still scattered all over the table. Even though he missed, Harry gave Batehart a heated look."Maybe I'll still let you beat me," he said, then smiled mysteriously. "Or maybe I'll just let you win."

Batehart licked his lips and smiled back. "I never thought you were the type who'd want someone to beat him. Maybe we should raise the stakes on the next game." The tone of his voice would have made his meaning clear, even if he hadn't slapped Harry on the ass. To Tom's horror, Harry didn't react except to give Batehart a steadfast, appraising stare.

"Maybe we should," he said softly.

No! Tom screeched mentally, get away from him! He's mine. It had honestly not occurred to him that Harry might not be available when he decided to make his move, and the realization was startled him into action. Before he knew what he was doing, he was in full flirt mode; he grabbed Harry by the waist and pulled him close, pressing his lips to that soft ear. "I'm not going to let you get away with cheating like this, Lieutenant. You're playing with me next." Gods, how this man felt in his arms! The hair was silk caressing against his cheek, and Tom felt like his skin was burning away, wherever it was pressed against Harry's warm body.

Physical proximity did not seem to be affecting Harry. If he was disturbed by the fact that his best friend was coming onto him for the first time, he gave no indication.

"Oh, as long as you make it worth my while," he said airily. Then he pulled Tom even closer and looked directly in his eyes. "Name your stakes, Lieutenant."The voice was pitched low, and chilling in its intensity.

Tom could feel Harry's breath on his face, smell his skin and hair, stared helplessly into those fierce dark eyes. He was entranced, mesmerized, couldn't think about anything but Harry filling his senses. He named the only thing he wanted right now.

"If you lose, spend the night with me."

He could hear a tiny Tom in his head screaming in horror at those softly spoken words, but he shushed it. Going from casual friendship to a baldfaced proposition in thirty seconds was perhaps a little extreme, but hey, he was trying to keep Harry away from Batehart's leering lips and groping hands. Crushing rejection was a small thing to risk, when the forfeit was losing his chance anyway. So Tom just waited calmly for Harry's reply, like he'd wait forever for anything from him.

Harry was looking at him warily. Then he made a decision. "And if you lose, you spend the night with me." Tom's eyes widened as the words penetrated the fog of dreamy desire around his mind. Was Harry just starting the game of flirting early, or were they really agreeing to spend the night together? Tom couldn't breathe, the sudden fear and hope and anticipation were too much for him to bear.

Harry smirked, then slipped from Tom's embrace and studied the pool table. Batehart had apparently been distracted from his game by their not-so-subtle exchange, and messed up another turn. He'd left Harry an easy angle to sink the black, but to Tom's surprise, Harry didn't move around to the other side of the table to take the shot. Instead,he chalked his cue and bent over the table right in front of him.

That gorgeous ass! Tom whispered to himself, knowing this was the effect Harry wanted. But he couldn't help staring at it. . . round, tight, and luscious, muscles moving slightly as he drew back the cue and shot.

With mathematical precision, the white ball rebounded off two sides before nudging the black in. Harry straightened up and addressed his defeated opponent with a sideways smirk at Tom.

"Sorry, I have another game to play now, but I'll keep your offer in mind." Batehart sullenly transferred over his lost rations and stalked out.

"I hope you won't be such a sore loser, my friend." Even though his heart was trying to leap out of his chest, Tom's competitive side asserted itself as he racked up.

"Not likely. You will be the loser, and you will be sore for days," Harry said tartly, eyes unreadable.

Harry broke, and the game was underway. The atmosphere was, at first, silent and incredibly tense, with nary a seductive smile in sight. A few minutes into the game, Harry made his first mistake, and Tom began to relax. Flirting around the pool table was a fine art, and one which he had mastered long ago. Reflexes kicked in.

"Really, my friend, if you can't stroke balls properly, I'm wasting my time here," he taunted. Harry looked up sharply, and Tom turned the charm on full blast. He smiled coyly, playing with the tip of his cue, then touched his fingers to Harry's face. "Oh, how sweet, you have chalk on your cheek now."

As he bent over to take the next shot, Tom felt a sharp jab in the backside. Harry looked over innocently, then gasped in fake horror. "You have chalk on your cheek as well! How could that have got there?" He twirled his own cue around, and then sauntered over. "Let me get that off for you." It was done with a typically Harry Kim eager-to-help attitude, but Tom had a lot of trouble lining up with Harry's fingers brushing his ass.

All these years, Harry had been watching and learning from him, it seemed.

..."Oh, you missed the hole. That's terrible."

Tom choked.

..."Good, hard stroke. I admire that."

Tom spluttered.

..."You know just how to handle those balls, don't you?"

Tom turned bright red and silently admitted that he was out of his league. None of his lines had anything on Harry's cheesy innocent act. It was hilarious and sexy and utterly demoralizing how quickly his friend had turned his own tricks against him.

Giving up on the lines, Tom moved on to silently touching and caressing in order to throw the game. All the old subtle tricks - brushing shoulders, leaning past to grab his beer, tangling fingers as he was passed the cue - lasted about a minute, and then he was outdone once more. Tom nearly moaned out loud as Harry - face still blandly angelic - brushed his hand carelessly over Tom's chest as he strolled past, sending a jolt of electricity from suddenly hardened nipples to rapidly hardening cock. At this point, not sure if he should laugh or scream - in fact, not knowing what to think at all - Tom gave up on subtlety and threw away the rule book. He leaned in and licked the back of his friend's neck, laughing softly, knowingly, gleefully, when Harry couldn't hide a shiver.

After taking his shot, Harry looked at Tom thoughtfully. "Computer, delete holocharacters and music. Lighting down to forty percent."

Tom's eyes got wider, his heartbeat became even more erratic, and the atmosphere in the holographic bar was suddenly very intimate. And suddenly Harry wasn't joking or teasing anymore, just watching and moving and caressing with a mysterious expression on his face as the game continued. The mood in Sandrine's got even darker, the silence thicker, and the touches more erotic.

This is getting out of control, Tom thought desperately, as Harry pressed his body against Tom's hard erection and bit on his earlobe. He wanted Harry so bad he could taste it. He was trembling, and breathing rapidly. They had been playing for at least thirty minutes, but they were barely half way through the game.

At the rate things were escalating, this couldn't go on much longer, but Tom didn't know what to say to stop it. He still had no idea if Harry was doing these things to him just to win. And what about the stakes they'd set? He couldn't even begin to think about it. Tom moaned aloud, not caring that it echoed loudly in the oppressive silence of the bar. His head was spinning unbearably with confusion and desire, and his cock throbbed insistently, painfully. Being in love had been great for a few days, but now it hurt.

God, make it go away, he pleaded. I don't want to feel this anymore. He leaned on the table for support, hung his head and thought about giving up.

"This game is taking far too long," Harry said quietly beside him. Tom looked up and saw sympathy and something else in Harry's eyes. "And I want you to fuck me, Tom." With typical efficiency, Harry took aim at the 8-ball and sank it, ending the game. "You win. Your place it is."

Tom just stared blankly at him. He felt the need to say something, but there was nothing in his mind except swirling, throbbing, pulsing desire. The object of that desire wanted him too. Virtually out of the blue, he was being handed his dream on a platter. Oh shit, he thought dizzily, what am I supposed to do now?

He wanted to move, but couldn't. He wanted to take that small step, feel Harry's body heat and smell him, slowly lean in and run his tongue over the lips that he could already taste in his mind. He couldn't. His body wouldn't let him. Now that he was being offered what he wanted, Tom was so scared and aroused that he didn't know how to take it.

Then he noticed that Harry was trembling too, and uncertain. His eyes were downcast as he stared at his feet. They were standing on the brink of something momentous. Tonight both of them were so turned on, so overcome with need, that there would be no going back once this started. They were about to throw their friendship against the wall and fuck it until it was no longer recognizable. Tom briefly tried to imagine what their relationship would be, when it was done, and the future was a dark, inscrutable vacuum.

He should move away. He should put a stop to this, in case it was the end of everything he already had with Harry. Suddenly Tom was terrified. If this screwed up their friendship, he couldn't handle it. It was too much to risk, it was foolish, it was insane. But stepping back wasn't possible either.

So Tom forced himself to move. His hand felt like lead as he lifted it towards Harry's face. Shaking fingers brushed awkwardly across a silken cheek. Then a small, shuffling step closer, and his vision was filled with the sight of Harry standing, waiting, eyes wide and lips parted. In the end, those lips undid him. Tom couldn't live another minute without knowing how they felt under his own. He closed his eyes and bent his head toward Harry, not knowing what would happen next, and fearing that it would be nothing.

But then there was moist breath on his face, warmth and a gentle pressure on his mouth. A bewildering array of emotions surged through Tom - relief, astonishment, profound gratitude. Then Harry's mouth opened under his,and sudden, mind-shattering lust threatened to unravel his very consciousness.

Tom reached out and grabbed Harry behind his neck, pulling him against his body, pressing their torsos together, and crushing Harry's lips beneath his own. This was his fantasy, his dream come true; he would take what he could get, and damn the consequences. Kissing Harry was so unbearably erotic, in mere seconds he was past the point of no return; he couldn't care anymore what happened in the morning.

He could feel the racing heartbeat of his partner through their clothing and tried to press closer. His tongue explored Harry's mouth hungrily, dipping and darting into every recess he could find. He wanted to memorize the taste and texture of this perfect mouth, these perfect lips. There was a hard, throbbing heat rubbing insistently against his hip, and Harry started thrusting suggestively against his body.

They were moving now, dancing to some silent pulsing beat, sliding against one another in a primeval rhythm as fervent hands explored unfamiliar lines. Grasping,clutching, gripping, while tongues tasted, long legs brushed and tangled, and hips ground together with the soundless music in the empty bar.

Harry's hands squeezed Tom's ass, kneading and massaging and driving Tom out of his mind with pleasure. He kissed Harry even harder, moaning deep into the delicious mouth as he tried to press his erection against Harry's own.

Tom felt himself backed up against the bar, and he held still and complied as Harry worked him over with hands and mouth and body, capturing him. The hands holding his face immobile while a hot mouth plundered his, and the hard body sliding suggestively over him, were making Tom's head spin with lust. He was being possessed by Harry, owned by him, and Tom surrendered himself gladly.

Harry undid Tom's uniform and pushed it off his shoulders, leaving Tom trying to untangle it from his wrists while Harry slid warm hands under the turtleneck to touch skin. Tom felt his chest and stomach burn wherever Harry's fingers passed. Then there were lips at his neck, and vicious suction which was pain and pleasure inextricably entwined. He groaned out loud, feeling his mind cloud over as he tried uselessly to get rid of the sleeves which confined his hands.

"We. . . Harry. We have to get out of here." Then thought was lost as Harry's fingers found his nipples, and teeth sank into his neck. Tom gasped and thrust his hips forward, unable to control his reaction. He was met by ananswering thrust which slammed him back against the bar, crushing him between the hard wooden surface and Harry's powerful body.

Tom groaned aloud, and Harry drew back his head and laughed suggestively, intimately. "I don't see why. How many different people have you fucked in this program, Tom? On the pool table, the bar. . . Is there anywhere you haven't done it?" Harry was pushing his best friend's uniform further down, and rubbing his hand over the prominent erection through damp fabric. He was breathing hard and fast, chest heaving, eyes glittering and dark pupils wildly dilated. Sweat made his skin gleam in the dim light. Tom felt love and desire surge through his veins at the sight, and was reminded of how important it was to do this right. Even though he was panting with lust and need, he didn't want it to happen here. He wanted their first time to be perfect. He wanted to love Harry in a comfortable bed and fall asleep with his arms around him. The thought gave him enough strength to pull away and compose himself. Pulling his uniform back on, Tom tried to ignore his body screaming at him to take Harry now.

"Let's get to my quarters while we still can," Tom pleaded.

Harry grasped him by the front of his uniform and pulled him close. "I've got a better idea. Let's fuck right here. It's been three years since I've been with someone and I don't want to wait any longer." His hands snaked down to cup his friend's buttocks, gripping them tightly. "I can't wait any longer." He pushed Tom back onto the nearest table and straddled him, then claimed his mouth with bruising force.

Delicious friction sent shivers up Tom's spine from where their erections rubbed together. I've got about five seconds to do something about this before I lose control all together, he realized dimly.

Harry's legs were tangling with his, forcing them apart, exposing him to more of Harry's weight.

Four seconds.

His hips were pressing harder into Tom's groin, writhing evocatively.

Three seconds.

His hands were on Tom's chest, tearing frantically at the zipper.

Two seconds.

And his lips were soft and wet as his hot tongue invaded Tom's mouth.

One second.

Tom decided to take control of the situation. An instinctive wrestling maneuver had Harry off him and crashing to the floor before Tom realized the move would hurl his friend off the table. The sickening thud and bitten off curses had Tom's heart leaping into his throat. Scrambling madly to Harry's side, he was surprised to be greeted with laughter. "Not the submissive type, then?" Harry asked with genuine humor,as he stood up and brushed himself off. "What a pity." He stepped closer. "Shall we try that again?"

Horrified fear followed by tangible relief had partly cleared the fog of arousal from Tom's head, and he laughed at the mess they were making of this. "No, really, I think we're better off on a mattress. Or at least carpet," he grinned, indicating the hard wooden floor.

Harry slid his arms around Tom's waist and grinned back,in an entirely different fashion. "The corridor it is, then."

Tom bent down to nibble at his ear. "Surely we could make it into the turbolift," he whispered.

Harry gasped and shivered. "If you keep doing that, I'll throw you on the table again."

"Mmmm, it wasn't that bad on the table..." They were dancing silently again, moving slowly and provocatively, sliding bodies up and down, rubbing cheeks together. Finally Tom pulled away and licked his lips. "Race you to the 'lift"

Harry smiled at him slyly. "In a second." He unzipped Tom's uniform and pulled it off his shoulders and down to his elbows. "Computer, end program."

Tom stared at him, bewildered, and struggled with the jacket sleeves.

"Ready set go!" Harry waved at him and dashed out of the empty holodeck, leaving Tom cursing as he tried to move with his arms behind his back. He couldn't decide between swearing and laughing. This was ridiculous. Oh, if the rest of the senior officers could see them now. . . But it was reassuring too. It was him and Harry, fooling around. Like always. But different. Finally he shoved the fabric off his wrists and ran out of the door, exhilirated.

In the turbolift, Harry was leaning on the wall looking calm and smug, eyes sparkling with amusement as Tom raced in. Before he could gloat, Tom pounced, kissing him again and again until Harry was as flushed and breathless as he was. Only then did Tom drag his mouth away, step back and give the computer instructions.

As the small compartment began to move, Tom brushed his knuckles across Harry's cheek in a repeat of his earlier caress. His first caress. How long ago was that? Twenty minutes? It seemed like years...

Things were accelerating at an exponential rate. A week ago, he'd thought of Harry as nothing but a friend. An hour ago, they'd never kissed. In another hour, they would be lovers. And in another week?

Suddenly it was too much for Tom to bear, and he wrapped his arms around Harry and held him tightly, trying to control the shaking that was developing deep inside him.

The 'lift stopped and the doors opened. Tom didn't move,just hugged his friend like he was never going to get another chance. Because he'd remembered something. He knew his own history too well. Tom had had too many precious things taken from him to believe he could ever keep something he loved as much as he loved the man in his arms.

"You okay?" Harry asked softly, breath stirring Tom's hair. Tom nodded silently and released his grip, stepping into the corridor.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked, eyes serious. In answer, Tom took his hand and pressed it to his groin.

"One part of me is," he whispered hoarsely. "The rest of me is just scared out of my mind."

Harry blew out his breath heavily, and rubbed Tom's hand over his own crotch. "Me too. But you have to decide. I want to be fucked so bad that I can't think about anything else." He turned in the direction of Tom's quarters, and smiled back at his friend. "Let's just get inside first, okay?"

Tom followed him along the corridor, trying desperately to get a coherent thought happening when there was no blood in his head. It was filled with nothing but one repeating phrase. Harry wants to be fucked. . . By me. Tom wondered if he could come just thinking about it. Or cry, maybe.

Then they stopped at his door, and Harry keyed in the entry codes. Seeing that did something powerful to Tom's insides. Harry is unlocking my door so we can go inside and get naked. So I can touch him. Tom slowly fell to his knees behind his friend, and ran his hands possessively up and down his waist and hips.

"So it's the corridor, then?" Looking up, Tom could see Harry's desire and impatience warring with the fondness in his smile. So he gave in to a rushing impulse. He leaned forward and sank his teeth into Harry's ass. Harry jumped and turned around, staring down at him with dark, liquid eyes. He was so close that Tom could smell him, could feel the heat emanating from his body and see the clear outline of his cock through the black pants. It was irresistible. Tom pressed his face into Harry's groin and inhaled deeply, savoring the intimacy of it. And he wanted, more than anything, to taste him.

Two sets of breathing caught in anticipation as Tom's fingers undid Harry's pants. Pulling down his underwear seemed to happen in slow motion. Then Tom couldn't wait another second. He opened his mouth and took Harry's cock in it, and their stifled moans echoed down the empty corridor.

Some small part of Tom's head was aware that going down on his best friend in public was probably a bad thing. Especially when the door to his quarters was wide open,and two steps would have them inside. But right now, the feel of that hot erection in his mouth, the velvety weight and the profoundly personal flavor of it, was more compelling than anything else in the universe.

Harry thrust deeper, until Tom could feel his cock throbbing in his throat. He swallowed around it experimentally, and felt the massive shudder that ran through his best friend's body, and sensed a tightening which meant he was very close. The tiny, gasping moans were making his own erection twitch in sympathy. Then Harry gripped his hair and pulled him up to face him.

"Inside me, now," he panted, head thrown back and eyes nearly closed as he fought his own need. They tumbled through the door and onto the carpet, not even hearing the doors swish closed behind them. Groping blindly and tearing off clothes in the process, they rolled, groped, sucked. Lips met at one stage, devouring one another passionately, until an enticing white ear drew Harry's teeth, and Tom's tongue was distracted by perfect nipples on a flawless chest.

Then one pilot's hand crept between wantonly spread legs, and Harry apparently decided he'd spent more than enough time on foreplay.

As Tom hurled Harry's underwear out of the way, Harry grabbed his shoulders and latched lips onto his chest, sending both hands to Tom's groin for some serious groping. Yelling in surprise and inadvertently rolling them over, Tom crashed into the side of the bed. Without a second thought he picked up his best friend and dropped him on it. Falling on top of him, lips met with brutal force,and they thrust their erections together frantically. Moans were indistinguishable, vibrating throughout both bodies. Then Harry threw Tom off him and turned onto his stomach.

"Now!" he gasped.

Tom grabbed his ass cheeks in both hands and moved to lick at the opening, suck greedily on the nearby flesh. Harry writhed under him, rubbing his cock on the bedcover.

"Tom!" He was nearly screaming now. "Do it!" Tom grabbed lubricant and hastily coated his fingers, pushing two into Harry's ass. Harry reached behind and knocked them away.

"I said, now!" He pushed backwards, offering himself. Pleading. Demanding.

Tom was so hard that he was barely able to breathe, barely able to see. Touching his greasy hand to his own cock nearly made him come all over Harry's back. Struggling for air, he started to penetrate the tight golden ass in front of him. Red swam before his eyes, and he heard Harry groan through gritted teeth. Then Harry thrust backward, impaling himself abruptly, and Tom howled at the painful pressure. Before he knew what was happening, he climaxed in one sudden, burning rush, waves of unbearable pleasure passing him through him at warp speed. Harry cried out, still moving against him, and came explosively. Falling forward, they separated and crashed bonelessly onto the mattress. Then there was nothing but their ragged breathing. Lassitude flooded through exhausted bodies as both men struggled to regain some equilibrium.

Harry flopped onto his back and sighed deeply. His body shone with sweat, and silvery come coated his stomach. "That was nice," he mumbled with a drowsy smile. Tom struggled to keep his eyes open, but Harry was already dead to the world, and his own brain was shutting down too fast for him to do anything about it. He barely had the energy to throw an arm across Harry's chest before sleep descended on him like a black curtain falling in his mind.

---

The pain in his arm brought Tom back to wakefulness. He was lying on it, cutting off the circulation. Turning over to relieve the pressure, Tom became aware of a hundred other aches and pains. He hurt everywhere. And floating back into consciousness came the reason why he had so many bruises. Tom sat up in bed and looked at his friend.

God, Harry was so. . . neat when he slept. Even lying naked on a disheveled bed after he'd been fucked into oblivion, he lay straight on his back with one hand on his chest, face toward the ceiling. They'd fallen asleep without ordering the lights off. Tom could see their clothes scattered around the room, mixed together almost indecently, and shivered at the memory of having them torn off him by a frantic Harry.

That wasn't what he'd expected of him. Tom had only had a few days to imagine what sex with his best friend would be like, but the reality was, well, a bit disconcerting. He'd wanted to take it slowly, touch and taste every single tiny bit of Harry while he had the chance, explore until he knew the man's body as intimately as he knew his own. Instead, it had been over before he'd had a chance to properly realise that it had begun. Tom considered waking him up for a second round, but Harry looked so peaceful, eyes closed, breathing deeply, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The bright lights in the room seemed too harsh for that kind of serene beauty, so he ordered them down to twenty percent and propped himself on an elbow to drink in the sight of his sleeping friend.

Oh, God, it's such a cliche, but his lips do look like they've been bruised from kissing. Just barely parted, beautifully curved, Tom couldn't stop staring at them. The lips that had made him throw caution to the wind and lean in, starting something with consequences that, even now, he couldn't fathom. What was going to happen in the morning? What were they going to say to one another after having sex like that? For fuck's sake, they'd been half-naked in the corridor, and in five hours they had to be on the bridge together.

Tom dragged his eyes away from Harry's face and onto his neck, which was liberally decorated with bruises and teethmarks. Further down, the smooth chest was marred with scratches and other unidentifiable marks of damage. He looked like he'd just been rescued from the away mission from hell.

I did all that? Tom wondered, appalled at how violent he'd been. But then, Harry had seemed to want it. He'd said it was nice, of all things.Tom would never have guessed that his tidy, organized friend liked it rough in bed. Still, maybe he should have expected the unexpected. Lately, Harry had been full of surprises. Until now, they had been good surprises. Tom wasn't sure how he felt about this particular revelation.

Looking down on at that peaceful face, it was easy to believe that it didn't matter. In the morning, Tom decided, he would make love to Harry with all the skill he possessed, until Harry knew that heaven was the two of them, together in every way.

As gently as possible, Tom maneuvered Harry onto his side and moved in behind him. As he slid his arms around the precious warm body, Harry half-muttered something, and then pressed closer, making Tom's heart melt with happiness and love. Even lying in bed with Harry was a godsend, the missing piece of puzzle which had finally fallen into place in the center of his life. He brushed his lips over Harry's hair, and buried his face in his lover's neck. Of course it would be all right. Nothing could be wrong when something this simple felt so unbelievably good. Tom sighed with deep contentment, and dozed off knowing that everything was well with the world.

---

This time Tom woke up because he was cold. He sat up groggily, scanning the dim room through sleep-slitted eyes. Even on a starship, there is a pre-dawn spell when everything is still and dark and silent, when movement echoes loudly and the wan light of the stars only deepens the shadows. It was still an hour before he had to wakeup. And there was something else wrong. . . Something was missing. Turning and seeing the shallow indentation in the mattress beside him, Tom realized what it was. Harry was gone.

Then he heard a faint rustling sound in the bathroom, and heaved a soft sigh of relief. In a few moments, the object of his thoughts emerged fully dressed, and moved through the darkness towards the door. Tom's breath caught, and then again he relaxed as Harry picked up his boots from where they had landed, and sat down on the couch to pull them on.

"Hi," Tom whispered, not sure if he should say anything at all. Harry looked over and smiled awkwardly. Finishing with his boots, he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Tom was shocked to see that Harry winced a little as he sat down. For a Starfleet officer to actually show that he was in pain, it had to be pretty bad. And even in the soft starlight illuminating the cabin, the bruises on his neck were vivid, and angry marks on his chest were visible under the collar of his off-duty clothing.

"I have to go," Harry said quietly, shifting uncomfortably as his voice reverberated in the heavy silence. "There are reports that I meant to finish last night, and I have to visit sickbay before I start shift." He mistook the horrified expression on Tom's face, and hurriedly continued. "I have no choice, there's something wrong with my shoulder so I can't move my arm much, but you know the doctor will keep the records confidential. Nobody will find out."

"That wasn't what I was worried about," Tom replied weakly. "Are you okay?"

Harry shrugged - with only one shoulder, Tom noticed - but he avoided meeting Tom's eyes. Half his face was hidden in shadows, the emotions on it unreadable. "Yeah, nothing serious. I don't even know how I did it; I didn't notice anything when it happened." Tom gave him a shaky smile in return, then decided to bite the bullet and say what was foremost in his mind.

"I was hoping we could, you know, try again, only a bit slower this time."

Harry stood to go. "I've got too much to do this morning. Maybe some other day. I don't know." The words seemed to have ominous, almost fatal significance in the still, shadowy room. Seeing his best friend and his happiness slipping away before his eyes, Tom reached out and grabbed Harry's hand. Pulling him slowly down, Tom kissed Harry with all the tender passion he could manage. Harry squirmed and pulled away.

"I have to go," he mumbled.

Tom still clutched his hand, not willing to let go so easily. He couldn't let Harry leave now, not with everything messed up.

"I'm in love with you, you know," he blurted out. Harry started and stared at him, eyes huge.

"I have to go. I'm really sorry." With that, he walked from the room as if he needed to run, as if wolves were snapping voraciously at his heels. As if his best friend just said something really fucking stupid the morning after hurting him so badly that he needed medical attention. Tom bit his lip as the universe come crashing down around him.

Turning, bewildered, he punched the pillow behind him. Punched it again, harder. Picked it up and hurled it across the room with a hoarse cry of frustration and anger, then looked around for something else to hit. With a choked sob, he slammed his fist into the wall with a satisfying crunch and a burst of blinding pain. Cradling his ruined hand and feeling the hurt burn its way into his chest, Tom buried his face in the mattress and wondered why he always fucked up anything that really mattered.

Because that had gone as badly as could be expected.

---

End