The BLTS Archive- Devoted
by BGM (bgmanic@gmail.com)

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Paramount/Viacom - You own 'em all, greedy sons of *bleep*
*bleep*

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Me and you, And you and me, No matter how they toss the
dice, It had to be, The only one for me is you, And you for
me, So happy together. . .
---

"So Harry, you want to join me for dinner tonight?" Tom
Paris asked his friend, clasping a friendly arm around the
young ensign's shoulders.

Harry tensed, then flashed him a nervous smile. "Sure Tom.
Sandrine's?"

The boyish face of Paris mirrored instant disapproval,
injected with just the perfect amount of mocking to make his
friend's unease dissipate.

"Ooh I don't know Harry - we've been to Sandrine's virtually
every night this week. Wouldn't you like to go somewhere
else?"

Well, there it was. Incessant gratitude, being offered over
and over.

Harry Kim hadn't noticed this upon their blissful return to
Voyager, nearly two weeks ago. He hadn't noticed how Paris
seemed closer; how he directed sharper attention to the
young ensign, the favours and generosities being given to
him by his usually indifferent friend.

Harry sighed. No, he berated himself. Tom had never been
indifferent. He had always been a very good friend. But he
was now becoming too  much of it. Harry knew there was no
such thing as being too good of a friend, but the ensign
still had a nagging feeling that something wasn't right in
the way Paris was treating him. It was no longer equal
friendship, it was now a debt being refunded. An imaginary
debt.

"Well, it depends Tom," said Harry with a slight nervous
smile as they idly walked the length of the corridor. "Where
did you have in mind?"

They happened to pause in front of the mess hall and the
tall blond  man made a face. "Anywhere but here, puh-leaze!"
His face relaxed into a cheerful grin and Harry couldn't
help but return it.

"Well, I'm up for anything," he said, smiling kindly.

"How 'bout my quarters?" Paris asked, already walking
backward in parting -- as though he was somehow nervous to
stay around for the answer. He tossed his head at Harry from
across the corridor and added aloud, "2000; I'll make us a
fabulous dinner."

Harry couldn't resist. "Why Tom Paris, I didn't know you
could cook!"

Paris laughed and turned away, waving his hand. "Well, we'll
both find out tonight," he said before disappearing inside a
turbolift. Harry stared a moment more at the closed doors,
his face quickly losing the cheer he'd plastered on. It's
not fair, he thought.  He's not being fair - I don't deserve
that much attention. He squared his shoulders and walked
into the mess hall, his thoughts quickly forgotten as his
stomach lurched at the smell wafting inside. Still. . . 
It's better than those bars of. . . whatever stuff the
Aquitarians used.

---

When 2000 rolled by, Harry rang Tom's door and waited
nervously at the sill. He didn't know why he was suddenly so
restless, but his instincts told him something was going to
happen tonight. Whether that something was going to prove
wonderful or terrifying, Harry had no idea. He only knew
that, when Tom opened his doors and stepped aside to allow
him within, his life was about to take a significant turn.

"Hi," he smiled, looking past his host to the table laid
out. "Well, that's very impressive right there," he said,
trying to look serious but failing miserably. "At least you
know how to set a table. That's a promising start."

His arm was struck playfully before Tom moved away. "I'm
that  bad of a cook," he said pleasantly. "Besides, the
replicator does most of the work," he added, flashing the
younger man a blinding grin.

"Ha, ha," snapped the young man, moving to the shelves
lining Paris' wall. He took a moment to admire the portraits
and books before a lightly golden hand moved into his field
of vision, holding up a sort of appetiser which Harry
couldn't immediately identify. He turned to Paris in faint
surprise, and met the young man's laughing blue eyes.

"Go ahead, taste it!" he chuckled, bringing the morsel
closer to Harry's mouth. The ensign smiled shyly and took a
step back just before he reached for the bit of food. He
missed the faint look of disappointment on Tom's face as he
popped it into his mouth.

"Hmm. . . Oh wow," he praised, nodding. "This is good. . .
it's hot but it's good," he said, talking as though he'd
eaten a hot potato. He reached for the table where,
thankfully, some wine was already poured. He took a sip from
his glass and swallowed more correctly.

"You're right, Tom. You're not that bad of a cook," he
smiled, taking another sip before placing back his glass.
When he looked back, his young features were slightly
preoccupied. Paris saw nothing, as he was busy turning back
to his replicator.

Then it struck him like a brick wall. He widened his eyes
and stalked toward his friend. "Tom! You're using your
ration quota. ..?"

"Yeah, why? I can always win some of it back at  Sandrine's.
. ." he reasoned, genuinely surprised at Harry's reaction.
When he moved to complete his order, Kim walked forward and 
physically prevented him to do so.

Paris looked down at the ensign's hand curled over his
wrist, then frowned up to him. "What's wrong?"

"Just stop it," he snapped. "Just stop everything. Why are
you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

Paris' little-boy innocence got a rise out of the normally
serene young ensign. "Tom! Please! Ever since we came back
you've  done nothing but shower me with attention and
gratitude. I don't deserve it!"

Clear blue eyes narrowed in thought as Paris truly appeared
to mull  over the young man's observation. "If you were
offended by it, then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because!" he cried, releasing the wrist but maintaining his
position. "I didn't. . . I didn't know what to say. I wasn't
offended. . . I was. . ." he struggled for words, finally
relaxing his tense shoulders and lowering his dark eyes to
the floor. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Hurt. . ." Paris frowned and curled a finger beneath
Harry's chin, lifting the tender face to his level. "What
did you think I was trying to do, Harry?"

Confusion crossed the shining darkness of Harry's eyes
before he said, "To. . . to repay me? For what I did. . .
for what you said I did. . . saving you. . ." He sighed and
pulled away. "I don't know, Tom. I don't know what I
thought."

"You're still thinking about that time, aren't you? The
prison. . ."

"Of course I am!" Harry suddenly barked, aiming his burning
gaze into Paris. "Aren't you?"

"I'm trying not to," Tom whispered solemnly, his eyes
half-closed in control.

"Well, I'm not. I want to go over every detail of that
experience, over and over until I accept it. I don't want to
wake up one morning and find out I've become insane because
of repressed anger and surfacing memories." Harry shivered and
held his arms tightly, turning away. "I hated that place. I
hated the people, the stench. . . and  throughout that
miserable experience you were there; the only familiar thing
that I could cling to. Without you there I would have been
broken, Tom. So. . . so don't repay me for saving your life,
because I truly believe I was doing it for selfish reasons.
And when I tried to kill you. . ." he closed his eyes
tightly, letting the tears stream down his smooth cheeks. "I
don't even know why you want to be my friend anymore. . ."

"You're right."

Harry frowned, wiped his tears as he looked back. Tom was a
lot closer now, looking down at him with a slight smile.

"You're right, I don't want to be your friend anymore. Don't
you realise what I was trying to do this past week?
Obviously my attempts haven't been met with much success if
you're acting like this!" His smile grew wider as he cupped
the young face with both hands. "I don't want to be just
your friend anymore, Harry. I realised that halfway through
our ordeal together. I forgot about it when I began to
seriously think you were out to kill me, but when we
returned. . . when we were okay. . . a feeling I'd
associated with the ordeal itself resurfaced, and I found
myself thinking more and more of you. You know when you woke
me. . . when I told you I was dreaming of the Delaney
sisters?"

Harry swallowed hard, nodding numbly as his body began to
register  what Tom was trying to tell him. A warm tingle
spread throughout his limbs,  and his face flushed vividly.
Still his conscious mind refused to make the assumption. . .

"I was dreaming of you. . . you and me, Harry," he murmured,
caressing the ensign's cheek with a thumb as he passed his
long fingers into the silky strands of obsidian hair. "And
how I'd very much love for us to be that way now. . ."

Harry closed his eyes, swaying lightly at his friend's
touch, lightly caressing his face with nimble fingers. And
then the emotional exhaustion settled in and he sank slowly
to his knees, with Tom following closely.

"Harry. . . Harry," Tom whispered, cooing, comforting as he
gathered the young man in his arms. "It's all right."

"But I almost killed you!" Harry protested, his voice
muffled against Tom's uniform. "How. . . how can you want me
after what I wanted to do? After what I almost did?"

Tom pulled away and shook his head. "You didn't do anything
Harry. The implant did. What we were at the end of our stay
in that prison weren't us Harry. You know how I know that?
Because if I'd been myself, I would have never thrown away
your trust like I did."

"Tom. . ."

"Shh," Tom whispered, leaning in and brushing his lips
against the sweet, tender flesh of Harry Kim, delighting in
the faint salty trace of tears left there. But there were no
more tears shining In Harry's eyes now. Just desire and
passion, suddenly filling the dark eyes, the youthful mouth
suddenly parting for Tom.

Harry gave way to the his friend's questing tongue, but
after a moment he thrust his forward as well, exploring the
sweet delights of Paris' mouth.

The passion quickly ignited. Tom suddenly broke the kiss and
looked up  at the ceiling. "Computer, lights off."

"Tom. . ." Harry began to protest, wanting to see his friend
in all his glory, when he realised they'd chosen a spot just
beneath the wide porthole.

They were bathing in a sea of starlight, and the faint ruddy
glow of a distant sun shone on them from the corner of the
viewport, basking them in warm light.

"God you're beautiful," Harry whispered, panting as he
studied the golden face dance with emotion, the startling
blue eyes scouring his own features with loving tenderness.
Slowly Paris lowered Harry on the floor, never breaking the
visual lock he had on his friend, never for one minute
missing the intense hunger rising in the ensign's stare.
Wild joy filled his heart, knowing he was giving his love
and was getting it from someone else in return.

It was the work of minutes before their uniforms lay in
diverse  corners of the room. Quite naked now, Harry winced
and arched his spine.

Tom frowned in concern and brushed back the unkempt strands
of raven hair from the young man's forehead. "What is it?"

"The carpet. . ." he hissed, not particularly liking the
abrasive sensation as he moved over it.

"Then I have just the idea, my friend," Paris winked,
scrambling to his feet. He looked about the room, then
decisively gathered both their uniforms in his arms. He
pinched one of their insignia and said, "Computer, is there
an opening in holodeck use at this time?"

Harry frowned in suspicion. "Tom. . ."

"Hush." He waited for the computer's reply and smiled
broadly when the voice said, "Affirmative. Holodeck four is
currently available."

"Excellent," he beamed, kneeling beside Harry's sitting
form. "Computer, set up program Paris005, and transport us
directly to holodeck four when it's ready."

"Working. . ."

Harry took opportunity of the lull. "Tom, what are you
doing?"

"You'll see," Paris grinned, leaning in and silencing the
protesting ensign with a kiss. The computer chirped then,
and a moment followed before they were surrounded by a warm
glitter of light.

---

Harry blinked away the lingering disorientation and
stared wide-eyed  at the scenery. It was enough to make his
heart stop all together!

The atmosphere resembled that of Sandrine's; in fact, Kim
wouldn't be at all surprised if Tom went and told him this
was part of the upper levels of the quaint tavern. It was
warm, and the prominent smell of wood burning was the first
thing that hit him. No doubt caused by the wide hearth on
the far wall, framing a crackling fire. He sighed, and
studied the rest of the room, not to mention the wide
comfortable bed dominating the whole space!

He grinned and turned to Paris' expectant face. "It's
gorgeous," he murmured. "Why did you keep this program
hidden from the others?"

Paris dropped the clothes carelessly on the floor and
steered the  young man toward the bed, his eye colour
shifting relentlessly in  synchronism with the fire.
"Because I wanted someone special to share it with," he
said, and Harry inhaled deeply with delight.

They climbed the bed languidly, touching, caressing,
kissing. They twined together like snakes engaged in a
sensual mating dance, nipping a shoulder here, twisting to
massage the other's back, hooking one leg with the other,
and just reveling in the closeness; the intimacy both needed
so desperately.

They never broke from their embrace. They simply moved
together,  rubbing against the other, their erections
bouncing against the other,  stimulating each other.

"Tom. . ." Harry moaned, squeezing his hold over his
friend's back, pressing his forehead tightly against Paris'
shoulder as he thrust his hips firmly.

"Yes. . ." Paris hissed, mirroring the gesture, feeling both
their release upon them as they caressed harder, kissed
deeply.

The eventual release was a welcome relief. Pent-up
frustration was liberated, repressed anger and bitterness
vanishing into thin air as they shared a moment of complete
union, mind and body, pausing as they delighted in the warm
glow of their passion.

They both collapsed in a sweaty, satiated heap on the bed,
Harry on  his back and Paris over the ensign's chest. They
remained silent for a long moment, deep in thought, amazed
at the intensity their union had just radiated.

Then, Paris stirred and purred deep in his throat. "Hmm. . .
you know what I could go for right now?" he asked in a
drawl, tracing idle patterns on Harry's smooth chest as he
stared at the hypnotising fire.

They both looked at each other then, and burst out, "Fudge
ripple pudding!" before exploding in wild, boyish laughter,
falling into a hug that threatened never to separate the
young lovers.

---

The End