The BLTS Archive- Holidays:
Harry's Holiday Angel
by Judy (jlf@door.net)

---

This is the third in a Holiday Series, Harry's Halloween Dance Date
was first, Harry's Stuffed Tom was second.  I believe there's enough
background for this story to stand alone.  Please heed the warning.

Disclaimer: The Ensign and the Lieutenant (sigh), and everything,
belong to Paramount.  The story is mine.  Appreciation goes to the
PKSP for their comments on my earlier story.

Copyright 1998.

Warning: Explicit male-male sex, some BDSM, invasive medical
procedure, language.  This one turns dark for awhile and the BDSM and
invasive medical procedures could squick you out.  If you think
that'll happen, then hit delete.  Lots of angst.  This is more like a
Christmas Eve spent in the emergency room.  If male-male relationships
and sex and discipline bother you, if Harry spanking tom bothers you,
please read elsewhere.  If you can get past all that, there's a story
here. If you are under 18, don't even think about reading it.

Comments are welcome.

Please Archive at ASC/ASCEM, R'rain's; list on  BLTS; PKSP; allslash.
Please leave all disclaimers and warnings intact.

9/27/98

---

"Harry, let me ask you something?"  Tom looked up from the PADD which
had occupied him for the past hour or so.  Both he and Harry were at
the table  in Harry's quarters working on the weekly reports for their
respective stations, flight operations for Tom, and ship's operations
for Harry.

Harry surfaced from the concentration he'd been giving to his report
and looked up at his friend and lover.  He flicked shining dark hair
off his face.  "Hmm?"

"I've been good, haven't I?"

Harry wasn't sure where Tom's question was leading, so he carefully
asked for additional information before answering.  "You mean, today?"

"Well, today and . . . and since . . . " Tom's fair skin flushed a
little pink, "since Thanksgiving?"

Thanksgiving.  Now Tom's question made more sense.  The events leading
up to Thanksgiving had left Harry feeling left out despite his
attempts to bring the neglect to Tom's attention.  After a very nice
Thanksgiving dinner in the mess hall, later in his quarters, Harry had
let Tom have it. Literally.  He had spanked Tom hard.  Later he'd
called in a bet he'd won and had Tom dress up in a Pilgrim maiden's
outfit.  Tom had protested, but had gone along with it.  They'd had
some hot sex with Tom across the table, his crimson ass a signal for a
frenzied coupling.  Harry remembered Thanksgiving very well.  He
remembered how much Tom had gotten off on the punishment and how he
had gotten off on Tom's reaction.

"Yes," Harry finally agreed in response to Tom's question about being
good. "You've been great. Why do you ask?"

Tom seemed to be relieved to hear that.  Unsure how to broach the
topic, Tom said, "Well, it's about the outfits.  You know?  On
Halloween, I dressed up like Seven and on Thanksgiving . . ."

"You looked terrific, Tom."  Harry smiled in satisfaction.

"But . . . why?"

"Why what?"

Tom realized he was going to have to be more specific.  This question
had been haunting him for a while. "Why did you want me in women's
clothes?  Or  . . I don't know, why did you want me to look like a
woman?"

Harry looked at Tom closely.  He heard the anxiety in his lover's
voice and he saw the puzzlement and maybe something more like fear on
Tom's face.  "I think you're beautiful."

"But . . . aren't I . . ." Tom couldn't describe himself as beautiful
and struggled to frame his question.  " . . . I mean, don't you like
me . . . you know . . .  as a guy?  Just as I am?"

Suddenly, Harry understood.  His friend's insecurities were bubbling
to the surface.  Harry sighed, Tom's shakiness about himself must have
been reinforced by those scenes.  "It's not you.  You're a truly
beautiful man."

Tom tried not to blush.  This wasn't exactly what he'd hoped to learn.
Harry often said to him these same words, or similar ones.  "Then,
why, when you win a bet, do you want me to dress up like that?  I
mean, you've even taken pictures of me . . .  I don't get it."

Harry wondered what he could say.  He tried to figure out a way to
frame the truth so that it would be okay. "Do you really want to know?
Or is there something else going on?"

He watched as Tom picked up his PADD, fiddled with it, and put it down
again.  "Well, in a week it'll be Christmas and Hanukkah, and I guess
. . . I guess I'm worried."  Tom's very troubled blue eyes held
Harry's dark ones.  "We'd joked about my being an angel and all . . .
"

"And you wonder if I'm going to ask you to dress as one in some kind
of robe or something?"

"Yeah," Tom admitted, blushing furiously now.

"Well, yeah.  I'd really like you to do that.  But you haven't lost a
bet to me yet."

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to last," Tom said ruefully.  "I
don't know how you do it, Harry.  But I just have a feeling . . . you
know?"

Harry grinned.  For the longest time, Tom had always won their bets
until Harry had caught on and turned it back on the pilot.  Although
Harry was pretty sure Tom didn't know what Harry had done, it was
possible his lover was beginning to develop suspicions.  "I hope you
do lose a bet.  I have a vision. . . really, I do.  You have on a
filmy white silk robe that forms a V down to your waist where there's
a silk sash.  The robe barely overlaps and falls from there to your
bare feet . . . You have nothing on underneath, all of your skin is
shaved clean except for your head.  Your hair is a like a yellow halo
framing your face." Harry sighed, his eyes fixed on the internal
image.  "My angel."

Tom almost gasped at the word picture, at the dreamy look on Harry's
face.  But it brought him back to the question he'd tried to ask
earlier.  "But, why, Harry?  Why me as some sort of woman?"

"It turns me on," Harry said simply.  It was the truth.  "Don't get me
wrong, you, as a guy, turn me on.  You do.  But when you're a guy as a
woman, I don't know how to describe it.  I want to just take you and
take you and take you.  And when I've spanked you and your bottom is
all hot and red . . . and I see how much you liked it . . . it's like
sensory nirvana."

Tom squirmed.  He didn't know what to make of his friend's statement.
Clearly, there was no trick here. Harry was bringing up stuff they
hadn't talked about since early in their relationship, when they'd
discovered that Harry liked smacking his bottom and he liked having
him do it.  They'd talked until almost time for their next shift about
how far they might go, how much control Harry wanted to have, and how
much control Tom wanted him  to have.  They'd talked about a safeword
in case it was ever needed.  Tom had revealed how hard it was for him
to trust anyone.  Harry had promised if the safeword was ever used, he
would immediately stop whatever it was he was doing and that use of it
would not affect their relationship.

So far, the safeword had never been invoked.  Tom worried a little
because last time he'd come close to using it.  And yet the result of
that Thanksgiving scene had been a profound release, a sense of giving
up barriers that had withstood previous assaults of all types in his
stress-filled life.  Tom had experienced a kind of freedom.  If his
barriers were down, he didn't have to put so much effort into crafting
a mask for almost every occasion.

Putting these thoughts aside, Tom tried to concentrate on what Harry
had told him.  "Um . . . sensory nirvana, huh?  But what about . . .
Harry, I'll just come out and ask this.  Are you okay with me being a
guy?  Do you wish I wasn't?"  He finally got up his courage to ask
what he was really afraid of.  "Am I . . . is it . . . Am I somehow
filling in as Libby until you can have the real Libby back?"

A part of Tom's question could be answered easily.  "No.  You're not
Libby, I'm not pining for Libby anymore.  You're not a substitute for
her.  Does that take care of it?"

"Mostly," Tom said with evident relief.   But he still worried about
the other part.  He wondered if Harry would answer the earlier
question.  If Harry didn't, he wasn't sure he could bring it up again.
For a long while Harry was silent, handling his PADD, avoiding his
gaze.  Then, sensing Tom's eyes on him, Harry looked up, the dark eyes
seeming a little haunted, as if they were peering out from the inside
of a pressure suit.

"I don't think I have trouble accepting you as a guy.  I know you are.
I know it when I have my mouth on your dick."  It was Harry's turn to
blush, that golden skin darkening with his embarrassment at using such
language, at having to explain his needs.  "I appreciate looking at
you, as a guy.  But . . ."

"But?"  Tom felt a thin tendril of dread thread its way up his veins
to his heart, almost stopping it from beating the next beat.  Then
Harry resumed speaking.

"Yeah.  I *love* the thrill it gives me when I see you as a woman.  I
don't really want you to *be* a woman, just . . . just look like one.
Like, in the Seven outfit, I couldn't keep my eyes off those breasts,
even though I knew they weren't real, and your ass in that skin tight
suit, gods, Tom.  I was half hard all night, but what I was thinking
about was you underneath it and it just turned me on."

Tom tried to figure out what his lover meant.  He wasn't sure and was
bothered that somehow *he*, as Tom, didn't quite have the same effect.
Maybe he'd understand more if Harry talked some about the Pilgrim
outfit. "And the Pilgrim dress . . . ?"

Harry closed his eyes at the delicious memory: Tom in the floor length
dress, apron, bonnet, wig; and his helping Tom in the long process of
dressing in it.  "It was so great," Harry smiled at the remembrance.

"What was great, Harry?  I just don't understand it."

"Cause it was different, I guess."  Harry tried to figure out a way to
explain it without hurting Tom's feelings.  Earnestly, he asked, "I
mean, isn't it exciting sexually when you do something different,
maybe even forbidden or outside your normal experience?  Like my
spanking you?"

Blushing an almost unnatural shade of red, Tom had to agree that he
got off sexually on Harry's spanks, even the hard ones Harry had given
him last time, maybe even especially the hard ones.  "Okay, yeah.  But
why this? Why does this work for you?"

"Why do you like to be spanked?"

Tom had no verbal response for that question, only the increasing
spread of redness on his chest, neck, face, and ears gave Harry any
answer.  Tom thought that maybe there were some mysteries that were
meant to remain locked in long forgotten connections.  Or maybe the
truth would be too uncomfortable to face and would take away the
excitement if uncovered. Maybe he should let it go.  Harry loved him
both ways, that much he knew. No, it was more than just known.
Harry's love for him, and his love for Harry, were like the hull of
Voyager, a shield which protected the occupants inside in a virtually
unbreakable, all encompassing shelter.

With unaccustomed insight, Tom realized that his resistance to Harry's
'dress-up' demands no longer bothered him.  In fact, he was surprised
at the warmth that suffused him; it had everything to do with a desire
to please Harry.  Tom grinned, a light in his eyes.  "You know, Harry,
I don't think you're going to have to go to so much trouble to win a
bet with me in the future.  I . . . " Tom looked away for a moment,
then directed his gaze at Harry's dark eyes.  ". . . If I can please
you . . . "

"And I you?" Harry breathed for both of them since Tom's chest seemed
to have momentarily stopped moving.

"It's been awhile," Tom offered shyly.

Harry grinned at his lover, both knowing what they were talking about
even if someone listening in would have been hard pressed to figure it
out. "But you've been so good."

"What has 'good' got to do with anything?" Tom answered with a laugh
and leaned across the table so that his face was close enough to
Harry's that a few more inches would result in a kiss.

"Tom!  We've got to finish these reports."  The protest was pro forma,
Harry's 'good ensign' persona exerted itself half-heartedly.  It would
just take a nudge from Tom for Harry to give in to what they both
wanted.

"They're not due until the day after tomorrow." There was a wheedle in
Tom's voice.

"True," Harry reflected.  "It probably wouldn't do to neglect that
round butt of yours for too long."

Tom's whispered words drifted the scant inch to Harry's face, "No
telling what mischief I might get up to if neglected . . ."

Breathing harder, Harry answered very softly, "Prevention of problems
is such an important part of any relationship . . ."

He closed that scant inch and kissed Tom's lips, raised a hand to
place it behind Tom's head and kissed him harder, shooting his tongue
down Tom's throat, his hand kneading the back of Tom's head as Tom's
breathing caught and became ragged.  Letting go of the kiss, Harry
kept his hand in place and gently pushed Tom's willing head down onto
the table so that the pilot's upper body was across the surface, his
uniformed butt at the table's edge where his long legs fell off, his
feet on the floor.

Harry swept the table clean of their work.  Then, moving his hand to
Tom's back, Harry kicked out of his chair and slid around the table so
that he stood behind Tom.  He lifted off Tom's uniform top, then
reached both hands under Tom and undid his uniform pants.  As Tom
raised his hips up cooperatively, Harry pulled the pants down to Tom's
ankles.  Breathing in deeply at the sight of Tom's snug white shorts
and long, pale legs, Harry almost groaned.  Very soon he'd pull down
those briefs and uncover the waiting creamy skin that stretched across
Tom's taut ass.  But not yet.

Tom wiggled that ass just a little as if inviting Harry's next move.
Harry toyed with him awhile and Tom gave in to the sensuous stroking
of Harry's hands under his shorts as they moved up his thighs and
began to climb the mounds made more prominent due to his position at
the edge of the table. All the while that his hands were so very busy,
Harry's mouth sucked at the skin on Tom's neck, shoulders, and back.
Harry pushed his hands up higher nder the tight fabric, kneading the
satiny ass with his palms as Tom groaned and breathed deeply.

Tom felt the fingers inching up his ass cheeks, rubbing and digging
like a cat kneading its nest into satisfactory shape.  Harry's fingers
were followed closely by his broad palms, displacing the firm flesh in
an easy rhythm.  Harry finally reached up with his fingers and snagged
the cloth of  the shorts, bringing them down over the moving bottom,
further down over the thighs, where the shorts were thrust roughly out
of the way to join the  pants around his ankles.  Then Harry bent down
and removed Tom's boots and pulled both the pants and shorts all the
way off.  As Harry stood up, his hands trailing light feathers slowly
up Tom's legs, from ankles to calves, to the insides of his thighs, he
gradually moved Tom's legs farther and farther apart until they almost
reached the table legs.

He had an idea then.

Breathing heavily, Harry bent down over Tom's head, one hand between
Tom's legs, the other bracing himself on the table top.  "Tom?"

Tom's heavy lids lifted as eyes beginning to glaze turned up to look
at his lover.  "Mmm?"

"I want to tie you down on the table . . . your legs to the table's
legs, your wrists to the opposite side.  Is it okay, Tom?"

Harry's breathlessness was catching, the image almost too powerful to
resist.  If he was tied down, Tom thought, he wouldn't be able to move
much.  Harry would be able to pound his ass just about any way he
wanted. Tom almost groaned out loud, the thought sparking a strong
arousal within him, so strong he felt his cock leap.  He wanted
something really hard, really punishing.  Prevention, Harry had called
it.  Prevention.  Gods, he needed a lot of that.  Speaking through
ragged breaths where air was hard to come by, Tom asked, "What will
you do?"

In short panting breaths, Harry told him, "I'll use very soft
restraints. And when you're all tied down, I'll rub your bottom with
oil."  Harry's panting escalated as he became more excited by his word
pictures.  "Then, Tom, I'll spank your bottom so it glows.  First,
it'll be white, then pink, then red.  And it'll go from cool to warm
to hot . . ."

". . . like a fire . . ." Tom offered from his place on the table, his
hands making small clawing motions against the smooth table top.  As
his senses heightened, he became terribly aware of the smell of
arousal clogging their air.

"It'll blaze . . ."

". . . like a bon fire . . ."

"Incandescent . . . "

Tom moaned, his breathing now urgent and shallow, "Harry . . . Harry .
. ."

"Yes, Tom?"

"Your hand . . ."

"Yes?"

". . . and then . . . " Tom knew he wanted more.  But could he ask for
it?

"And then?" Harry repeated, a little slow from the mental pictures
he'd been exploring.  "Say it, love, tell me what you need."  Tom's
body shook weakly on the table in anticipation but he didn't make any
intelligible sounds beyond a keening moan.  "Okay," Harry interpreted,
"I'll say some things . . . just nod your head . . .okay?"

As Harry's hand kneaded his bare ass with strong fingers, Tom moved
with it, excited now by what might come.  Harry whispered above his
ear, "Close your eyes, love.  Just listen to my voice.  First, I'll
use my hand, yes?" Harry's palm smacked down on Tom's bottom.  "Like
this?"

Harry's silken voice caressed Tom's mind in counterpoint to Harry's
forceful hand on his ass.  Tom nodded, his cock throbbed, as he
acknowledged that his lover had read his mute desires correctly.

"Then . . . uh. . . a belt?" Harry guessed.

Tom nodded but not with any certainty.

"A paddle?"

A stronger nod.

"A whip?"

A definite no.

"The back of my hairbrush?"

A grin and a nod somewhere between the paddle and the belt.

"Then a paddle it is," Harry told him, smoothing his hand across's
Tom's still cool, but warming backside.

Harry lifted himself up off the table and went to the replicator for
the restraints, the paddle, the oil and lube, plenty of lube.  He had
a feeling that they were going to use a great deal of it.  He
authorized a privacy lock and soundproofing of his quarters, all the
while tugging off his own clothes.

While Harry was gone, anticipation was making Tom's cock thicken and
firm beneath him.  On his return, Harry placed a pillow under Tom's
hips for cushioning, readjusted Tom's cock and balls for protection,
and stepped back for a look:  Tom Paris, spread across the table, his
pale ass easily accessed, forced into the air by the cushion located
at the edge of the table, his legs splayed wide apart almost entwined
with the table legs. Oh, gods, Harry breathed excitedly.  Tom was so
incredible like this.

Quickly, Harry looped the softly padded restraints around each of
Tom's ankles and wrists and each in turn around a table leg.  He had
Tom test the restraints and accompanied each test with a light smack
from his hand to Tom's pale bottom.  But Tom's pleasure quickly turned
to panic as he flashed back to an earlier time when he'd been tied
down and forced.  A blackness descended on his vision, and a roar set
up in his ears.  He felt as if his back and chest were being crushed
by an invisible weight and he began to thrash around as much as the
restraints allowed.  Incoherent noises, almost like choking, emerged
from his throat.

Harry quickly realized this wasn't Tom's normal protests at a
spanking, something more serious was going on.  "Tom?" he asked, "Tom?
What is it, love?"

Tom didn't hear Harry, so lost was he in the black panic that had
overwhelmed him.  He grabbed onto the one thought that remained in his
terrified mind, his safeword.  His safeword.  "Auckland," he managed
to cry out, tears streaming down his face.

Before Tom spoke, Harry was already releasing him, his ankles, then
his wrists.  He gathered the sobbing man from the table into his arms.
Then he half dragged, half carried Tom over to the couch and settled
them both down  on it.  Holding his lover's face between his hands,
Harry cried,  "Oh, Tom.  Tom, I'm so sorry.  I didn't think . . . "

Between sobs, Tom tried to tell him it wasn't his fault.  Harry's arm
went around his shoulders, comforting him with small rubs.  With his
other hand, Harry fingered the tears away from Tom's face even as more
fell.  When Tom seemed a little calmer, Harry held him more tightly to
his chest, all the while murmuring words of comfort and regret.
Finally, Tom stretched out on the couch, his head in Harry's lap,
Harry's face above his.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Harry asked softly, ignoring the lack
of clothes on the still trembling body of his lean lover.

"I fucking freaked, is what happened," Tom told him, angry at himself.
After the stricken look on his lover's face, Tom said, "I should have
known better, I'm sorry, Harry.  I . . . I wanted to . . . I really
did."

"What freaked you out?"

Tom could detect nothing but concern in Harry's voice, face,
expression, the soft fingers playing across his face and damp hair.
He sighed as Harry's fingertips touched his lips.  "Tied down."

Harry nodded and made a small sound meant to encourage Tom to
continue.  In some dismay, he watched as Tom rolled so that his head
faced away from Harry, his knees drawn up.  For neither man had the
excitement of earlier been sustained even though they remained naked
together on Harry's couch. Harry let a hand drape itself on Tom's back
applying broad, calming strokes up and down that long expanse.

Tom seemed to be able to relax into Harry's touch and he began to
talk.  "Funny, the safeword I chose, 'Auckland'."  At the pause in
Tom's words, Harry simply continued to stroke him as if the silence
didn't exist.  Eventually, Tom picked up the thought again, settling
his knees even closer to his chest, as self-protective a posture as he
could manage and still be on the couch, still have his head on Harry's
thigh.

"I understand.  Tom, you don't have to tell me."

Tom sighed.  "It's okay, maybe telling you will take away their power.
I guess . . .  I guess, you know, I was raped a few times in prison?"

Harry nodded but Tom couldn't see him faced away as he was.  "Yeah."

"It was worse when I was tied down."

"Oh, baby," Harry crooned in sympathy.  "I didn't think . . ."

"Not your fault," Tom assured him.  "We . . . you and I . . . we were
playing.  Hell, I was going to get what I wanted."

"Sex?"

"That too."  Tom wriggled in pleasure as Harry's hand moved down to
float his feather touch on Tom's ass, only the faintest sting of the
earlier light slaps remaining.  Tom sighed again, this time in
contentment.  For long moments they remained this way, Tom on his
side, Harry's hand stroking his ass and his back, the strokes
increasing in their sensuousness and in the pleasure Tom felt.  His
earlier panic faded as these sensations renewed his arousal.

Harry used the time to think as one part of his mind monitored Tom's
state of being reflected through his moving fingertips.  Another part
of his mind struggled to put it all together.  Finally, he ventured,
"So . . . spanking's still okay, huh?  But restraint is not?"

Harry's hand felt heavier now on his ass, and Tom moaned in pleasure.
Another hand snaked under Tom and smoothed out the curling hairs on
his chest, exploring for nipples that sprang erect as soon as they
were fingered.  Tom moved his knees a little further away from his
chest, opening himself up more to Harry's attentions.  "Yeah," he
answered Harry's question, his voice husky with desire.

"What about the paddle?" Harry asked, still needing renewed
clarification of what would be okay and what would not.

Tom groaned, "Yes-s."  Almost too low for Harry to hear, his voice
still speaking into the room, Tom added, "Please . . . oh, gods . . .
"

"For prevention, huh?" Harry reassured himself, his voice light, his
hands meeting after one hand went probing further down Tom's ass
checks and the other went exploring down his chest.  Both hands came
to rest on an erection beginning to throb outward in the space between
Tom's chest and his legs.  Harry's own erection was jutting into the
back of Tom's neck. He was aroused and, from his explorations, he knew
that Tom was aroused as well.  But the man had just been traumatized
by being tied down, "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

Tom stiffened up.  Harry didn't want him now, he'd blown it, he never
should have let the panic get to him.  If he hadn't used the safeword
. . . Without his permission, a sob escaped and he forced himself to
get back under control.  He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagged
against Harry's thighs.

"Tom?"

He heard Harry call his name only dimly.  If Harry was going to end it
. . .

"Tom." Harry punctuated his word, by rolling Tom's shoulder back so
that he could see Tom's face.  "Sweetheart?"

Sweetheart?  Grasping on to that endearment for all it was worth, Tom
allowed himself a spark of hope.  "H-Harry?"

"What's wrong?  I was just worried that it might be too soon after . .
. after being tied up."

Understanding lit Tom's features and his relief was all too evident in
those beseeching blue eyes.  "You still want me?"

"Of course I do.  Sheesh, Tom, you're lying on it."

Tom blushed, "Yeah.  Well."  The traitorous cock between his own legs
was signaling with enthusiasm that it was back in the game.

"So?  Is it okay?"

Tom reached his arms up and pulled Harry's face down to his waiting
lips. His thrusting tongue kissed an answer to Harry's question as
Harry's hand roamed down his chest, ruffling his chest hair on a walk
down to Tom's groin.  Tom's light fingers traced soft circles on
Harry's head. As the petting intensified, Tom tried to convey how much
he wanted to continue their activities through his moans, the writhing
of his body, the kisses he placed against his Harry's mouth.
Thoroughly aroused, Tom told him, "I want you.  I want it all."

Taking a long look at Tom, at the longing on his face, the almost
desperate thrusting of his body, Harry realized the truth behind Tom's
words.  The self-protective posture was gone.  Tom lay on his back,
his legs apart, his cock a growing flower in a field of curling gold.
Harry smiled broadly, kissed Tom on the lips, and said, "I need to get
a few things.  Don't go away."

Harry worked himself out from under Tom and retrieved the oil, lube,
pillow, and paddle.  He left Tom on his back on the couch with his
lover able to watch all that he did.  When Harry returned, he set the
items on one of the arms of the couch.

He kneeled by the couch and planted soft kisses on Tom's still damp
face, licking away all the tears.  His hand played down Tom's chest,
fingers  rubbing each nipple to miniature mountains in the fiery brush
of Tom's chest hair.  He thrust his tongue in Tom's mouth to find the
resident tongue ready to parry in return.  Both were breathless when
he pulled out and set kisses on Tom's chest in the wake of his
fingers.  Each nipple's hardness was sucked into his mouth with enough
force to set Tom's hands to tingling.  As Harry's hand moved lower and
lower, Harry's mouth pulled harder and harder on whichever nipple he
happened to be mouthing.

Tom's head swept back and forth, mouth open, eyes closed, as he
succumbed to the sensations that Harry's lips and fingers burned into
him.  His moans  were almost constant. He moved his hips, hoping to
attract Harry's attention, but Harry's mouth remained stubbornly at
work on nipples so distant from his now leaking erection.  Still
kneeling by the couch, Harry's fingers lightly pinched the tender
folds of skin inside Tom's thighs.  Tom's moans became louder.  Then
Harry spread Tom's legs wider apart on the couch, that firm mouth
finally feeling up his cock, lips sucking at his skin all along the
way.  Just as Tom thought he would gain some relief, Harry pulled
away, mouth, hands, everything.  "No," Tom groaned, "don't stop."

"Yes," Harry told him breathlessly.  "Remember, this is about
prevention? Here, sit up."  

With cooperation from Tom, who sat up as he'd been directed, Harry
slid onto the couch.  "Turn over, now."  He guided Tom's body into
place so that Tom's head and chest rested face down on the couch, his
ass upended over Harry's thighs and the pillow, and his long legs
stretched out the remaining length of the couch.  Harry thought this
was a vision that he could never tire of, perhaps second only to the
sight of Tom when his ass was red and hot, lately spanked and recently
fucked.  But he'd take it slow now, no more freaking out his lover.

"I'm going to rub oil on now," Harry told him, his voice rough and
breathy, almost too low to hear.  As he caught the gist of it, Tom
nodded.

Harry kept up a running patter, letting Tom know just what he was
doing.  "Oh, your ass is so smooth, Tom, so silky smooth."  He ran his
hands in circular motions over Tom's oiled backside as Tom tracked
Harry's movements with parallel undulations of his own.  Harry's oil
slicked hands slid repetitively over Tom's bottom from the center of
his ass out to the edge of each cheek like warm rainbows in a soft
summer shower.  Tom began to moan in contentment as he relaxed into
the sensuous stroking.

Then Harry's hands picked up the tempo and kneaded the rounded flesh
with heavy motions like thunder clouds building in a storm.  Harry's
voice rumbled sternly into Tom's consciousness, "We need to prevent
problems, Tom, and this should help you remember to behave yourself."

The storm broke out as Harry's hands pounded in tandem raining down
sharp smacks to the accompaniment of breathless exhortations to Tom to
behave, to be good.  It felt like stinging sleet as both of Harry's
hands slapped down in a frenzy of blows too fast to count.  The sleet
turned into lightning blows of fire and Tom's higher pitched moans
echoed off the walls of the cabin.  Harry told him how pink his ass
was turning, how the spanks were spreading a rosy glow across his butt
cheeks as Tom writhed under the  blows.  With each hit, Tom's
excitement grew, his erection growing painfully hard against the
pillow.  "Oh yes, oh yes."

Abruptly, Harry stopped, eyes narrowly regarding his handiwork.  His
flurry of spanks had covered each cheek with first white, then pink
handprints til the pattern blended together.  Tom's bare ass was pink,
but not yet red, warm, but not yet hot.  Harry picked up the paddle.
His voice firm, but pitched low, Harry announced,  "I think you're
ready for the paddle, Tom. This is where we get serious about
prevention.  Here it is."

Opening his eyes, Tom saw a light colored wooden paddle about a third
of  a centimeter thick and 40 or more centimeters long, maybe 20
centimeters at its widest.  For a moment he almost panicked, faced now
with the reality of what had heretofore been a fantasy.  Harry asked
if it was still all right to use it.  Tom closed his eyes, gauging his
physical and emotional state.  He knew he hadn't yet achieved that
place where pain became light and he could surrender to his own body.
Most importantly of all, he wasn't yet to the point where he could
surrender to Harry.  The momentary feeling of panic passed.  This
wasn't like being tied down.  This was something he needed. Tom
squirmed slightly, embarrassed by the realization.  But he opened his
eyes, smiled, and whispered, "Yes."

Harry looked at his lover carefully and nodded.  Tom wanted this and
he seemed ready.  After stroking the paddle across each of Tom's pink
ass cheeks, Harry lifted the paddle with his right hand and brought it
down firmly on the highest rounded mass of firm buttock.  Tom's hips
bucked up off the pillow as the paddle landed and retreated.

Tom felt the blow as if a lightning bolt had blazed across his
backside.  He groaned loudly and his hands tightly gripped the couch
fabric.  Almost reflexively, he tightened his ass and Harry placed a
broad hand on his warmed cheek, softly telling him to relax, just
relax.  Tom let out a ragged breath and relaxed his ass a fraction.
Then a second crack of the paddle fell on his other buttock and he
yelled loudly as the sheeting pain spread through him.  Paradoxically,
he realized with a fevered kind of clarity that Harry was going easy
on him.  He needed to hurt underneath his skin down into his psyche,
his brain, his very fiber.  Gritting his words out, Tom told him,
"Harder, Harry, harder."

"Are you sure?"  Harry asked, thinking he'd given Tom a few good
cracks.

But Tom told him, "yes" and Harry complied, bringing the paddle down
harder, faster, and covering Tom's bottom with the red imprint of the
paddle, until, like the handprints, the paddle prints blended together
into a crimson covering.  Each stroke traveled through Tom like
lightning through a storm, clear, fiery, illuminating everything in
stark relief from his toes to the roots of the hair on his head.  The
pain blended, melded, and traced knife-like tracks up and down his
inflamed nerves.  Tom cried out, shouting with each blow, tears
tracking unchecked down his face, his cock so aroused it urgently
sought the fabric of the pillow for friction.  At last, he moved into
that space where pain was pleasure and yet still pain.  Gods, he was
getting off on this.  But before his cock could explode, Harry
stopped.  Tom lay across Harry's lap, sweat pouring off him, spent
physically, yet aroused in that one area of his body where tumescence
ruled.

His butt felt swollen and overheated, ignited by the thundering
paddle.  His sweat increased the pain in his tender skin.
Paradoxically, his brain was screaming in relief at the throbbing that
had finally released him from his masks.  But he rubbed himself
against the pillow, searching for additional relief for his heated
cock.  He panted and cried, "Inside,  Harry, now, please, oh, please."

Harry was aware of Tom's movements against the pillow and placed his
hand across the scorched buttocks to still his motions.  "Be still."

Harry slicked himself up with plentiful amounts of lube on his free
hand, somehow managing to do it one handed, then he thrust two fingers
inside Tom's anus, pushing them through to his rectum and worked
inside that hot channel while his other hand remained on Tom's flaming
backside, holding him motionless.  The contrast between Harry's
lighter toned hands and Tom's very red butt showed up like a white
cloud pluming above a lava volcano.

Tom's cries and groans drove Harry on.  He added a third finger in a
plunging, demanding insistence on entrance to Tom's slick interior.
As Tom's anal sphincter muscles relaxed, Harry whirled his fingers
around in a torturing dance of in and out and side to side that
stretched Tom's opening wider and wider.  Harry wondered how wide Tom
could be stretched in this highly sensitized state and watched his own
dusky fingers slide inside that bright red ass.  His second knuckles
were now just inside of Tom's anus turning side to side, widening the
opening so that his fingers moved in and out with little resistence.
He thought Tom could be spread even more, but he didn't want to risk
it now.

Tom was moaning continuously, his shoulders rocking, as he felt the
incredible stretching caused by Harry's hand and the concomitant full
engorgement of his own throbbing cock.  Just as he thought his cock
would let go, Harry pulled out with a whistling, sucking sound.  He
whimpered and cried at the desolate loss, the feeling of cool air
brushing across his lonely hole, an empty receptacle waiting to be
filled.  Harry also pulled out from under him and Tom remembered with
a start that he had been lying across Harry's lap, his naked ass
exposed in all its crimson glory

Harry stood by the couch and rearranged the pillow under Tom's hips.
His hands spread Tom's legs wide, and he placed one of Tom's feet up
to hook on the back of the couch while he allowed Tom's other foot to
fall to the floor.  Harry felt so aroused he feared he would come just
from the incredible sight of his lover lying open to him, small
movements rippling across the flaming ass like wind on a sunset sea.

After what seemed like a lifetime of loss, a lifetime of acute need,
Tom felt Harry's weight on the couch, Harry's knee brushed against one
of his legs.  He sensed, but could not see, Harry's cock line up with
his still yawning anus.  Then Harry dropped in like an exploding
accordion of flesh.  Tom pushed back toward Harry bringing him further
into his waiting furnace, past the pain, past the yearning
anticipation, past his faltering barriers.   Oh, gods, oh gods, oh
gods, Tom moaned, if not aloud, at least in his head. He was filled,
he was hot, he was consumed in the moment as Harry's thick cock
widened his already stretched anus and increased the filling
sensations inside his rectum.

Harry paused, letting Tom adjust to the growing organ inside of him.
Then Harry rocked back.  At the same time, he pulled out almost all
the way causing a gasp to fall from Tom's throat.  He held himself
motionless once more at the edge of Tom's anus.  Then, with a cry he
buried himself deeply inside Tom as Tom opened even more under him.
Back again Harry went, only to fall forward once more in a series of
thrusts that took him deeper and deeper inside his partner.  Tom's
grunts and groans spurred Harry onward as did the radiant heat from
Tom's flaming backside.  He angled slightly and his next series of
thrusts had Tom screaming for more as Harry's hard cock stimulated the
sensitive internal gland.

As one part of Harry monitored his lover's arousal, another part
reveled in the velvet heat that enclosed his cock.  He saw Tom's hand
reach down to go underneath him to stroke his own cock and he batted
the hand away, "No.  Don't come yet.  Wait 'til I say."

He pulled Tom's ass up with the strong arm he placed firmly under
Tom's hips.  He stopped stroking into his partner and just held them
suspended, Tom so beautifully impaled on his now hugely bulging cock.
Then he reached  out and grasped Tom's cock, full and slick.  As he
began to pump Tom with his hand, he resumed his ramjet actions into
Tom's rectum, simultaneously pulling and pumping on the outside while
thrusting upward like a rising rocket on the inside.  He whispered,
"Come now, Tom, come now, baby."

Tom's cock jumped and pulsed in his hand, then spurted long and hot
and powerfully over Harry's hand, Tom's chest, the couch.  As the
climax roared through Tom, he screamed while his internal muscles
clamped and tightened and kneaded Harry's thumping cock until it, too,
gave up its load and pulsed hotly over and over deep inside of Tom.
Harry let his lover down gently, still buried in that tight chamber.
Tom's leg tumbled from the back of the couch, his arm fell off the
edge of the couch as he felt his uscles virtually melt into the fabric
of the furniture, Harry's weight a grateful burden as he shuddered
from the intensity of his orgasm.

Returning from his trip to the outer edges of the galaxy and beyond,
Tom became aware of a hot stinging in his ass from the very recent
spanking. Harry's weight was on him now, their combined sweat and oils
salting the tenderized skin.  He moaned to remind Harry of his
condition, and Harry stirred against the back of his neck.

"Hmm?" was Harry's response, nonetheless, he rolled off of Tom's back
to lie on his side beside the taller man.  He left a limp arm across
Tom's upper back.

When he finally reopened his eyes, Harry's gaze traveled up and down
the length of his lover, noting with satisfaction the bright glow of
Tom's paddled ass.  He also noted Tom's big grin.  "So, you okay now,
Tom?"

"Um-hmm.  Very well . . . prevented.  I'll be *so* good . . ."

"Oh, you are good, lover."  Harry nibbled a little on a delicate pink
ear and enjoyed the way the grin spread on his lover's face when he
pulled back enough to see.  They lay still for awhile longer, the
afterglow of the sex warming each in its mysterious filament.

Finally, Harry moved and got up to retrieve wet cloths with which to
wash them down.  He also retrieved a healing gel from the bathroom
while he was there.  Returning to where Tom had not moved on the
couch, he gently cleaned his lover's back and anus, then lightly
rubbed the cool gel over  the still hot, still carmine colored
backside.  Once the initial shock wore off, Tom seemed to purr from
his ministrations.  But when Harry told him to  roll over, Tom opened
one eye and moaned, "Do I have to?"

"Yes," Harry replied firmly.  "You're all sticky.  Let's do it."

Tom rolled over onto his back, his breath hissing as his hurt bottom
settled on the couch.  "Ouch.  Ouch."

"Hurts?" Harry grinned.

"Like a warp core on overload," Tom assured him, matching his grin.
Then he winced.  "Maybe we could do this standing up?"

Without objecting, Harry helped Tom to his feet and then set to work
washing Tom's chest and abdomen as Tom stood patiently before him.

Tom reached for the unused wet cloth and returned the favor, washing
the sweat and congealing semen from Harry's front.  "Actually," Tom
confided, "I could use a cool shower."

"Perhaps I'd be best if I helped you," Harry offered, lightly kissing
Tom on the lips.  Tom gripped his lover's head and pulled him closer
in order to deepen and intensify the kiss.  Letting Harry go, Tom
grinned widely at the man before him.  "I think I'd like that."

---

As the days counted down to the next holiday, acknowledgement of the
dual festivals of Hanukkah and Christmas resulted in the ship's mess
hall and one of the holodecks decorated in symbols of the season.
Menorahs with candles and stars of David shared space with
representations of Santa Claus, reindeer, manger scenes with baby
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, also, fake Christmas trees, and holographic
snow flakes.  The only thing missing,  Tom thought, was a real tree.

Tom huddled with Seven in astrometrics asking for her to search for a
planet that had trees.  Totally mystified, she nonetheless found no
reason not to attempt to meet his request and  modified her search
parameters accordingly.  While Seven worked on his project, Tom used
precious replicator credits on such items as tree ornaments, brightly
colored balls, small bells, and assorted items that he remembered from
distant times long ago and far away.  At the back of his mind, he
wondered if he should bring  Harry in on the plan, but he wanted to
surprise Harry.  However, he remembered the last time he'd surprised
Harry and he remembered vividly the preventative steps Harry had so
recently undertaken on his behalf.  His ass had hurt for days despite
the regeneration Harry allowed in the morning.  And he'd seen the
paddle leaned up against the door inside of Harry's wardrobe.  It was
ready for action at any time.

Over dinner in the mess hall, Tom decided he'd bring Harry in on his
plan, or at least most of his plan.  There were still some things he
didn't want to share with Harry until the proper time and place.
"Harry?"

Harry looked up from this green, flowing thing that passed for dinner.
"Hmm?"

"You know the holidays are coming up?"

Harry looked around the mess hall at all the decorations.  "Yeah."

"I want a real tree this year.  I've asked Seven to look for one."

"A real tree?  What Voyager forest were you planning to harvest?"

"Very funny, Harry.  A planet.  There's got to be a planet around
somewhere with real trees."

"Does the captain know?"

"Well . . . no, not yet."

Harry looked seriously at his friend.  "Your butt's mine, don't forget
that."

"Harry.  The Captain won't mind."  Tom squirmed a little in his chair
as the mention of his butt reminded him of the incredible sensations
it had experienced not long before.

"When were you planning on telling her?"

"When we find the right planet."

"I see."  Harry wondered which was worse, the green slime on his plate
or his friend's latest harebrained idea.  After a quick glance at
their surroundings, Harry casually mentioned, "You know, Tom, I still
have that paddle.  And I could easily replicate a really fine
hairbrush."

"Sh-h," Tom pleaded looking around them.  Fortunately, Harry had
apparently looked carefully before he spoke because there was no one
in hearing distance.  Tuvok was way over in his usual corner and
Neelix, for once, wasn't hovering nearby.

Tuvok's hearing was more acute than even Tom's paranoia could imagine.
Without betraying through so much as a twitch, Tuvok had diligently
listened to the young lieutenant's plans.  He almost raised an eyebrow
at the ensign's reference to a paddle but restrained himself.  What
the two young people did in the privacy of Kim's quarters was none of
his business, even if he did have a very clear idea of what had been
going on in there.  He decided that as long as the corrections were
given with Paris' consent, as they seemed to be, then there was
nothing wrong in Kim's doing his job for him.  But he did wonder what
Lt. Paris was planning with this tree-on-a-planet idea of his.  It
could involve matters of ship's security.  He would have to keep a
careful eye on the lieutenant.  Perhaps a word with Seven would be in
order.

Harry leaned over the table closer to his lover.  "Do things by the
book, Tom."

"I will, Harry.  I'm being good.  See, I've even told you about this."

Tom looked at Harry with such innocence in those clear blue eyes that
Harry almost relented.  But he gave Tom one of his sternest
examinations, one where he knew his eyes were like black holes,
trapping all deception within them.  Satisfied that Tom's gaze
remained open with no trace of guilt or guile, Harry returned his
attention to his food, his point made.  He hoped.  After all, this was
Tom.

The next day Seven told Tom that she had located a planet meeting his
specifications.  It was only a day's journey out of the way (and
another day's journey back) in Voyager.  No detour would be needed if
Tom were allowed to take a shuttlecraft.

Armed with his news, Tom found the Captain in her ready room.
"Captain?" he smiled at her.

"Yes, Tom?"

"I know where we can get a real Christmas tree."

"A *real* tree?"

He grinned, "Yes, ma'am."

"And why do we need a real tree?"

"Ship's morale," he replied promptly.

"We could replicate a tree just like we did last year."

". . . and the year before that and the . . ."

She held up her hand in surrender, or to shut him up, Tom wasn't sure
which.  "And you want to go get it?"

"If I take a shuttle, I can rendevous back here in three days."

"Christmas Eve," she mused.

"Or we can take Voyager and be back on course in less than two days."

Janeway thought about it.  "What else do we know about this planet?"

"Well, Seven said that it was either unoccupied or, if occupied by
sentient life, they're prewarp, even pre-electrical power."

"I see," she murmured, buying some time.  Her mind took Tom's idea one
step farther.  Christmas on a planet instead of a starship?  What an
intriguing thought.  "Let's take Voyager on this little detour, Tom.
Plot a course.  But let's not say anything to anyone.  I'll brief the
senior staff after lunch.  Otherwise, I want to keep things quiet in
case it doesn't work out.  Who knows what color these trees will turn
out to be?"

Tom couldn't suppress his grin.  This was great.  "Yes, ma'am."

He left the ready room with his grin intact and took his place at the
helm. Harry couldn't help but notice from his place at Ops the smile
and jaunty steps of his lover.  Uh-oh, Harry thought, it looked as if
Tom was up to something.

After lunch, during which Tom had remained studiously silent in the
face of Harry's persistent questioning, Janeway called the senior
staff into the conference room for a briefing.  Once they had
assembled, she told them with a small smile, "We're taking a slight
detour to procure a Christmas tree."

Harry grinned at that and looked at Tom who matched his grin.
Chakotay wondered what was so important about a tree.  He thought the
replicated trees of the past several years had been just fine.
B'Elanna considered this a ridiculous idea, but kept that thought to
herself.  She had read the Captain's enthusiastic nonverbals just
fine.  And her friends seemed happy enough about it, in fact, from the
smug look on Tom's face, this could have been all his fault.

As Tuvok glanced around the table, he identified various sentiments.
The humans who came from the North American continent on Earth seemed
very pleased.  The others appeared skeptical of the plan.  He also
noticed the  interesting silent exchange that took place between Paris
and Kim.  Paris  seemed to beseech Kim whereas Kim seemed to evaluate
the Lieutenant rather carefully.  Before his mind turned to the
security aspects of the detour, Tuvok briefly considered the
possibility that this evening Kim might be initiating the
soundproofing in his cabin, the better to administer the discipline he
occasionally meted out to the sometimes reckless lieutenant.  Of
course, none of these observations ever made it into his logs.

---

The day before Christmas Eve, Tom brought the ship into a standard
orbit above the planet.  All their scans told them that there was a
large variety of animal life, some in groups, some in more solitary
placements on the planet, as well as a diverse selection of trees in
the ancient forests that covered much of the planet's continents.

Tom, Harry, B'Elanna, and Chakotay beamed down to a clearing on the
surface along with a small security detail headed by Tuvok.  Tuvok had
noted with interest the way Paris had been walking and sitting the
past day, and, coupled with the knowledge that Kim had indeed invoked
the soundproofing subroutine in his quarters, surmised that Paris had
faced a disciplinary hearing in Kim's quarters the other night.  From
snatches of conversation he had inadvertently overhead, Tuvok
understood the procedures to have been initiated because of Paris'
silence on the reopening of the topic of the tree expedition during a
lunch date with Kim.  He didn't understand the reasons why the taller
and, presumably, physically stronger as well as somewhat older
lieutenant, submitted to the punishment inflicted by the younger man.
'Fascinating' didn't nearly cover it. 

Tuvok set up his security perimeter while Paris led the tree seeking
group in its mission.  Tuvok couldn't help but overhear what to him
was an esoteric discussion of the merits of various types of trees.

"The long needled ones are the true Christmas trees," Harry informed
the group.

"No, no, Harry, it's the short needled, blue-green trees.  Those are
*real* Christmas trees."

The light bickering went on as Chakotay and B'Elanna exchanged bemused
glances.  Chakotay shrugged, as if to say, 'who cares?' and B'Elanna
completely agreed with him.  Finally, Chakotay could take it no
longer.  "Enough.  We'll get two.  One for the mess hall and one for
the holodeck. Once of each," he said with emphasis.

"Yes, sir," Kim answered smartly.

"Fine," Tom sulked.

"Kim, you're with me.  B'Elanna, you're with Tom.  Select your tree
and meet back here in fifteen minutes."

Tom looked as if he was about to protest.  How could he find the right
tree in fifteen minutes?

"Come on, Helmboy," B'Elanna urged with a trace of disgust in her
voice.

With poor grace, Tom followed her.  He started to resume his argument
but B'Elanna wouldn't let him.  "No way, Paris.  You take it up with
Harry."  Impetuously, she added, "If you dare."

"What do you mean by that, Torres?" Tom demanded.

"Oh, nothing.  Let's get your precious tree and get back up to the
ship."

He snaked out his arm to catch her by the sleeve.  "Wait.  What did
you mean?" She looked up at the puzzled and anxious young man who'd
stopped her.  She debated what to say about the gossip she'd heard on
the ship.  Maybe there  was nothing to it, but Tom's piercing look
suggested that perhaps there was something beyond sex going on.
Carefully, she suggested, "Let's just say Harry seems to have you
wrapped around his little finger."

Uh-oh, she thought at the very vulnerable look she saw on the pilot's
face in the few moments before his impervious mask snapped firmly in
place.  Definitely something to the gossip.  She knew these two spent
many hours in each other's cabins.  After she'd heard the rumors,
she'd checked and found  that sometimes the soundproofing was on.
Somehow, she didn't think it was Harry practicing his clarinet.  She
decided to let her fellow officer off the hook.  "Hey, it's okay.  It
looks to be mutual."  At Tom's intent stare, she added emphatically,
"You two love each other, right?  Nothing wrong with that.  Sometimes
I can be a little tactless."

"Sometimes?" Tom kidded and they both laughed.

He began to size up the trees for the qualities he was looking for:
straight trunk, fullness of branches, 'correct' length of needles.
Here and there were the kind of trees with the short blue-green
needles that reminded him of what he thought of as *real* Christmas
trees from his childhood.  Not that there had been too many of them.
Occasionally, when his father was available, the family would spend
the Christmas-Hanukkah holidays in a cabin in the mountains.  Then,
they would have a *real* tree, not a replicated one like all the other
years and almost all the other families they knew who actually
celebrated these events.

Even B'Elanna had to concede that Tom had located a really beautiful
tree. He stepped back and phasered the trunk toward the base.  Using
rope from his climbing gear, he tied the tree up with B'Elanna's help
and carried it over one shoulder toward the rendevous point.

Neither they nor the security team were prepared for the onslaught of
animal-like creatures that rushed out of the forest at them.  Tom was
swept off his feet, trampled and tumbled over and over by numerous
creatures who simply walked, ran or jumped over him.  One moment he
was walking with the tree, the next, he felt multiple hard blows to
his body from all directions.  There were knife-like slashes all over
and a stinging, deep pain.  Before he could scream he was unconscious.

The speed of the creatures was so great that the hand held phasers of
the security detail were of no use.  In seconds, the creatures had
disappeared back into the forest taking the trussed up tree with them.
Tom lay motionless on the ground, his uniform ripped to shreds.  He
was unconscious and bleeding profusely when B'Elanna both reached his
side and commed the security detail and Chakotay.  "Tom's been
attacked!  Don't phaser down any trees!"

Very quickly, she assessed how badly Tom had been mangled and how much
he was bleeding.  She placed her fingers firmly on a spurting artery
and commed the ship, asking for immediate beam-up to sickbay. 

The two were gone before Harry and Chakotay arrived on the scene.
Harry blanched at the amount of blood on the ground and the bloody
fragments of Tom's uniform.  With Chakotay's steadying hand, Harry
pulled himself together and both looked to Tuvok for an explanation. 

"I did not see the attack," Tuvok informed them.  "But my tricorder
did pick up the group of creatures that committed the act.  They went
there."

Tuvok pointed into the forest, near where Tom and B'Elanna had exited
with their tree.  Chakotay tried to assess the situation.  "What
happened?"

"I do not know.  But we can follow them easily enough."

"Commander, if it's all right, I'd like to beam up and see how Tom
is," Harry requested as politely as his agitation would allow him.

"Go ahead, Harry," Chakotay told him.  He'd seen the evidence on the
ground of the extent of the attack on Tom.  He, too, had heard plenty
of rumors about the closeness of the two men and he didn't want to
keep Harry from  being with the young lieutenant.

As soon as Harry safely beamed up, the entire security detail and
Chakotay moved into the forest, following Tuvok and the tricorder
readings.  At some point, Tuvok stopped and the detail stopped as
well.  Chakotay looked questioningly at Tuvok and then allowed his
gaze to follow the security  chief's pointing finger.  At least two
dozen animal-like creatures of assorted shapes, sizes, and species
were gathered around the trussed tree, several were unwrapping it,
others were bending over the stump where it had been phasered.  Still
others were watching intently.

Tuvok signaled for a silent retreat.  As the group backed up, they
could see the tree being hoisted into place on the stump.  When they
paused in their retreat to watch this, they were stunned to see
tendrils shoot out from the stump and embed themselves in the base of
the severed tree and in its branches as well.  For their part, the
animals themselves also seemed transfixed by this scene of restoration
and repair.  In moments, the two parts of the tree were joined
together, only a bump existing where the separation had occurred.

Slowly, Chakotay tapped his comm badge and very quietly ordered a beam
up for the entire landing party.  Janeway beeped him when he returned
and asked Chakotay and Tuvok to report to sickbay.

"On our way," Chakotay reported as he and Tuvok exited in a hurry.

In sickbay, B'Elanna and Harry were standing off to the side, somewhat
tense, hands entwined, while the doctor and an assistant worked on Tom
Paris.  Both new arrivals were stunned to see how much blood there was
on B'Elanna's uniform.

"Report," Janeway barked.

Tuvok began, "We followed the attackers.  They had taken their severed
tree, put it back on its stump, and through some process, reintegrated
the two parts."

Those calmly delivered words took some of the fight out of Kathryn.
"So, we brought the attack on ourselves by cutting the tree down."

"It would appear to be the case," Tuvok intoned.

Chakotay added, "I don't think they recognized Tom, or us for that
matter, as . . . beings.  Their tree was being stolen and they took it
back as quickly as they could."

She shook her head.  "Damn."

"How's Tom?" Chakotay asked.

"Not good, the doctor wouldn't tell us much, just that he had lost a
lot of blood and had 'traumatic' injuries.  Apparently, B'Elanna's
quick action in putting pressure on the artery and ordering that beam
out kept it from being worse."

Hearing her name, B'Elanna stared dully at the new arrivals.  Sensing
her distress, Chakotay moved to her side, a bookend for Harry on her
other side.  "B'Elanna, nice work."

Her voice had none of its usual fire, "Anyone could have done it."

"But you did," he gently pointed out.  He leaned around her to look at
Harry.  "Harry."

"Commander."

Kim's eyes never left the images coming through the privacy screen,
the doctor and the assistant moving around Tom's biobed, working over
his friend and lover.  Tears spilled out of Harry's eyes, "He just
wanted a Christmas tree."

"I know," Chakotay sympathized.  "Apparently the occupants of the
planet have first dibs and aren't sharing."

Harry looked at the commander, recognizing the attempt to lighten the
mood, but unable to shake off his horror at the truly bloody mess he'd
seen on beaming up to sickbay.  A mess that so short a time before had
been a vibrant, loving Tom Paris.  Janeway flanked Harry and placed
her hand on Harry's shoulder.  "Harry.  Tom's a survivor.  I know
he'll survive this."

B'Elanna looked down at the floor.  She wasn't so sure.  They hadn't
seen the arc of blood that had pumped out of Tom, the white pallor of
his face where it hadn't been mauled by the animals, the deep gashes
on his body, his torn and bloody clothes.  "It happened so fast," she
shared with them, her voice subdued.

Eventually, they arranged themselves on the empty biobeds, except for
Tuvok who was dispatched back to the planet with the charge to try to
establish communications with the planet's occupants.  As the time
wore on, Neelix came in with food and drink.  Chakotay finally left,
feeling he had provided all the comfort to the survivors that he could
and knowing that his presence wouldn't make a difference to the young
pilot.  From the bridge he commed Tuvok, then reported to Janeway on
Tuvok's progress in establishing communications.  Hours later, she,
too, had to leave when her presence on the bridge was requested.

Harry and B'Elanna maintained a mostly silent vigil.  Occasionally
B'Elanna would break the silence to berate herself for not acting fast
enough, Harry would beat up on himself for not dissuading Tom from his
scheme.  Finally, in exasperation, B'Elanna demanded, "What could you
have done, Harry, to stop him?"

"You'd be surprised," Harry told her grimly.

"Is it true?" She asked.

"Is what true?"

"Rumors, you know . . ." she said evasively at Harry's hostile tone.

"Just what the fuck are you talking about?"  His anger, his cursing,
were so unlike the Starfleet ensign she knew that B'Elanna just stared
at him for a moment, speechless.  "B'Elanna," his voice was
threatening.  "What were you talking about?"

"All right, there's rumors.  Jenny Delaney says she saw Tom leaving
your quarters one morning, walking really stiffly and that when she
saw him later in the mess hall he had trouble sitting down.  She
didn't think it was just rough sex," B'Elanna saw that Harry had the
good grace to blush. "She thought he'd been hit, beaten maybe.  That
you'd finally had all you could take from his smart ass mouth and let
him have it."

"Jenny Delaney said that?"

"Yeah.  And Henley says she saw Paris on another occasion with the
same symptoms.  So, there's rumors going around."

Harry snorted.  He wasn't going to feed the rumor mill by telling
B'Elanna.

"Look, I never told anyone that that wasn't Seven at the Halloween
Dance, that you were actually with Tom," her voice was softer now, not
trying to hurt him.  "So. . . ?"

"B'Elanna, I'd never embarrass Tom by telling anyone about what we do
or don't do in our rooms.  If he wants to tell you, that's up to him."

"But what about the rumors?"

"Consider the source," Harry said simply.  Jumpy from B'Elanna's news,
Harry got down from the biobed and began to pace the sickbay space.
Irritation made his voice harsh.  "What's taking so long?"

The doctor's voice carried out to them from behind the screen.  "Mr.
Kim, if you aren't quiet, you will be asked to leave."

Alighting off her biobed, B'Elanna intercepted Harry and put her arm
around him.  "Harry, it's going to be okay.  And I'm sorry about the
rumors."

"I'm sorry I got on your case.  I know you didn't create the rumors."
Harry was thinking furiously that he'd have to be a lot more careful
in the future.  He wondered if they just shouldn't do it anymore, but
he knew with complete certainty that Tom needed what they were doing.
Harry worried that if he put a halt to it, Tom might go elsewhere for
what he needed.  Or become even more reckless than he already was.
Unfortunately, the only person he could talk to about his dilemma was
Tom.

"Harry," B'Elanna cajoled, as if reading his mind, "talk to me."

He shook his head.  Not now.  Not while Tom was hurt, not while the
doctor was still working on him.  His perfect mask had almost slipped.
Harry wasn't used to having to put on a mask, nor to keep important
things about his life hidden from his friends.  It made him acutely
uncomfortable even as he realized that Tom had perfected masks as a
way of life.  He wondered how his lover managed to do it.

At long last, the doctor invited them around the screen to see Tom.
For just a moment.

In his pompous tones, the doctor announced, "Lt. Paris has been put
back together once again.  But be brief."

When Harry approached the biobed, he was struck by how pale Tom
looked.  A blanket covered him up to his waist, two IV lines ran into
his hands.  Shocked, Harry realized that Tom's chest was smooth,
devoid of the red-gold curls normally seen there.  The freshly
regenerated skin on his face, shoulder, arm, chest, all showed silvery
striations that no doubt continued down his body.  Harry looked to the
doctor for reassurance.  Tom's eyes were closed, the lids an almost
transparent blue, dark half moons under his eyes.  The doctor nodded
and Harry called Tom's name.  "Tom?  Tommy, talk to me, just open your
eyes for a second."

Tom thought he heard Harry's voice, as if calling him from another
room.  His eyes felt too heavy to lift the lids, but he willed them to
open, just a little, just for a bit.  Harry and B'Elanna stood by his
bed.  Vaguely, he remembered B'Elanna's hand pressed against him after
the . . . what had happened?  Weakly, he asked, "What?"

"It's all right, Tom.  You're going to be all right."

Harry's voice was clearer.  Despite his lover's words of comfort, his
voice sounded thick, as if it had tears in it.  Tom tried to reassure
him, "Don't . . "

Harry smiled down at him, "Do what the doctor tells you, now.
Understand?"

Tom was almost too tired to respond with a smile of his own.  But he
managed a little crook of his mouth as he recognized the irony of what
Harry was telling him.  Since when had he ever followed the doctor's
directions?  But he couldn't think any further through the fatigue.
On their own, his eyes closed.  As he drifted off, he felt Harry's
soft lips press against his cheek and he called up a brief half-smile.

Thanks to the doctor's hypospray and due to the seriousness of his
injuries, Tom slept through the afternoon and evening.  When he woke
up the next morning, he still wondered what had happened to land him
in sickbay.  The doctor managed to fuss over him until he couldn't
stand it any longer. "Doc, please, just tell me what happened."

"What do you remember, Lt.?"

"We got a tree.  Then a loud noise, I was knocked down, then I hurt
all over.  Then I woke up here?"  This was where his memory faltered.
He touched his head and found it all there. "Harry and B'Elanna . . .
?"

"Yes, Lt., you did wake up here very briefly.  That was about fifteen
hours ago."

"Oh, shit."  The doctor successfully repressed his smile.  Continuing
his explorations, Tom ran his hand over his chest and frowned at the
strange sensation of feeling just skin.  "What the . . .?  Whose idea
was this?  Harry's?"

The doctor placed a hand on Tom's shoulder in an attempt to calm him
down. "I don't know about Ensign Kim, but your injuries were such that
we had to create a sterile field to repair the damage."

"How bad was it?"

"Let me ask you this?  How do you feel this morning?"

"Sore," Tom admitted.  "Tired."

The doctor was sure Tom felt both of those things, and probably more.
"The only times you feel badly the next day is when you've been
seriously injured.  Am I right?"

Tom didn't want to admit it, but he'd had enough experiences with
sickbay to draw some conclusions.  He managed to give the doctor a
small victory in the form of a grimace.

"You arrived here down three pints of blood; you were in shock,
bleeding from multiple lacerations; you had a concussion, multiple
contusions, a lacerated kidney, five broken ribs, numerous other
broken bones in your arms, hands, and hip."  The litany had made an
impression as Paris' skin paled to an even whiter shade of white.
"There was internal damage.  Something like a claw tore through your
buttocks, anus, and rectum."

Tom gasped and nearly passed out, his skin so transparent that blue
veins appeared as networks underneath it.  "That's . . ."  Tom's
numbed mind couldn't begin to deal with this.

"I've had you on fluids since you arrived here, and, as I'm sure
you've noticed, a catheter.  However, all the dermal and osteo
regenerations have been completed.  Probably better than anyone, you
know that healing takes time and rest.  There's some further treatment
you'll need every six hours or so.  And a liquid diet until further
notice."

"Will I . . . will everything be all right?"

"Yes.  Just not right away." The doctor tried to vocalize a
sympathetic tone of voice for the young man who seemed so totally
defenseless before him.

As Tom struggled to come to terms with the extent of his injuries, he
also tried to remember what happened to bring him to this state.  When
memory failed, he asked, "What happened?"

"Lt. Torres said that a 'herd'?  'swarm'?  of animals came out of the
forest and simply mowed you down to retrieve their tree."

"Oh."  Lying so helpless, Tom wished he'd just gone along with
replicating trees as they had in the past.  Harry had tried to warn
him.  When was he ever going to listen to his friend?

"Lt., while we're alone.  I need to ask you about signs of abuse on
your buttocks that predated the attack by the animals."

Now Tom wished he could just fall off the table and die.  The natural
flush that accompanied acute embarrassment spread up his neck and
face, turning his face a heated red.  He closed his eyes in the hopes
that the hologram would have deactivated himself before he opened them
again.  No such luck.

"I hesitate to report it as an assault on you before I have all the
facts."  The hologram delicately omitted the DNA match on the traces
of semen in the pilot's rectum that dated to approximately the same
time as the beating.  It did not seem reasonable to the doctor to
conclude that Paris had been assaulted, physically and sexually, by
Harry Kim.  But he didn't know what he should make of the lieutenant's
condition.  "I'm sorry if this is difficult for you, Mr. Paris, but I
am obligated to report signs of abuse, as you well know."

Where were you when I needed you?  Tom asked himself bitterly.  Aloud,
Tom pled his case.  "Please don't.  Look, it . . . it wasn't . . .
abuse."

"Then what was it?  Consensual?"  The doctor had meant his
sarcastically stated question as an improbable cause, but realized
very quickly that he had uncovered a deeply held secret.  His voice
subroutine softened, "I need to know."

Tom closed his eyes again in mortification.  How could he ever
explain?  He felt the doctor's impatience and reopened his eyes.
"Yes.  It was consensual."

"Please elaborate."

"What the fuck do you want to know?  That I asked Harry to . . . to
hit me?"  Tom was angry at having been caught, at having to disclose
anything about his private life.  "It's no one's business but ours!"

"That may be, if, as you say, whatever you and Mr. Kim do is entirely
consensual.  If it is not, then I am afraid it is my business, and
that of the security officer."

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!  Don't you dare tell Tuvok!"

"Lt., I need to know more, without all these histrionics.  If you
continue  to be agitated, I'll be forced to sedate you.  Your injuries
deserve a chance to heal."

"Shit!"

"Lt."

He knew the doctor would sedate him and would still tell Tuvok.  Damn
it all to hell!  Tom tried to calm himself, not easy when he continued
to feel worn out from the slashing attack.  But he managed to control
his breathing and found one of his long discarded masks.  He put on
the one that placed maximum distance between himself and the other,
the one that was sarcastic and arrogant.  Almost sneering, he asked,
"What is it you want to know?"

"How were you hit?"

"Harry used his hand and a paddle," Tom managed to grate out.

"And how was this initiated?"

"I asked for it," Tom told him in a clipped voice.

"Was this the first time?"

"No and no." The doctor gave him a Tuvok-style raised eyebrow.  "No,
he'd used his hand before, and before you ask, I don't know how often.
And, no, it wasn't the first time for the paddle."

"And you always asked him to hit you?"

That wasn't quite true.  The first time, Harry had just landed a few
sharp swats against his bare ass, startling Tom, but pleasing him at
the same time.  Then afterwards they'd talked, sorted things out.  And
now, mostly it didn't seem as if either of them had to ask about it,
Harry just walloped him from time to time.  The anger rush began to
fade.  Defensively, Tom said,  "I always wanted him to."

"How long ago did the spankings start?"

"I don't know . . . don't your scans tell you?"

"I want you to tell me."

Tom tried to figure it out in his head but he was too tired and too
upset.  "Since September, you work it out."

"Have the beatings escalated from the first time to now?"

"Yes."  No sense in saying anything more than that.

"Did you wish for that to happen?"

"Yes!  Godammit, I've answered your questions.  Don't you know enough
by now?  There's nothing to report!" The mask had slipped and Tom's
terror at being found out and exposed got the better of him.  He tried
to recover, "It's . . . Doctor, really, it's all right.  Please don't
report this.  I mean, we're on this voyage that's going to take the
rest of our lives.  We're not hurting anyone."

"Are you sure about that, Mr. Paris?"

Tom was pretty sure about it, but he didn't answer the doctor's
question. "So?  What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to discuss this with Mr. Kim.  When I've made up my mind,
I'll let you know one way or the other."

"Let me talk to Harry first."

"Not a chance, Mr. Paris."

"But . . . "

"Mr. Paris," the doctor was not pleased, "I suggest you be quiet and
rest. Let your body heal.  I'll have some liquid food here for you in
a few minutes."

How could things have gotten this fucked up, Tom wondered?  The doctor
was about to discuss his sex life with Harry and then he'd no doubt go
straight to Tuvok and then it'd go to the Captain.  Oh, dear gods, no.
He was going to embarrass his best friend and lover, and to add to the
indignities, he had no hair on his chest, a healing rectum, a catheter
in his penis, and, no doubt, inedible liquid food on an unshakeable
trajectory for his stomach.  Shit.  The animals should have just
fucking well killed him down on that planet.

---

When he woke up from the nap he took after eating, Tom felt better
physically, but as the memory of the doctor's questions returned, he
groaned and wished he'd never awakened.  Harry's soft voice greeted
him, "Tom?"

Tom saw his lover staring down at him, concern on that familiar face.
"Harry. . . I'm sorry, Harry."

"It's all right, Tom.  Listen, the doctor says you can go back to your
quarters now.  You'll have to come back here in a few hours for some
kind of treatment the doctor wants to do.  But, how about it?  We can
talk at your place?"

As he checked himself, Tom realized that all the tubes were gone, but
that under the sickbay blanket he didn't have much on.  "Um . . .
clothes?"

Harry grinned.  "I brought you some."  As Tom swung up on the biobed,
Harry placed a neatly folded stack of clothes next to the sitting
patient.  "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay, Harry."

Tom seemed subdued and preoccupied.  Harry could guess and tried to
reassure his lover.  "It'll be all right, you'll see."

A half-hearted grin was all he received in reply.  Seeing his lover's
hands fumbling to get his clothes on, Harry wordlessly offered his
help.  He pulled Tom's shorts up to his waist, again noticing the lack
of hair on his chest as well as around his genitals.  The effect of
that sight was to take  his breath away.  Harry couldn't help noticing
the slight redness from the  now absent catheter.  He wanted to kiss
Tom's penis as if to make it better, and while he was at it, he wanted
to turn Tom around and check his anus for lingering signs of injury,
but this wasn't the place for that.  Instead, he tried to concentrate
on helping Tom pull on the remaining clothes, the soft sweat pants,
the t-shirt.  But as he pulled the t-shirt down Tom's smooth chest,
the palm of his hand couldn't help paving the way.  Harry marveled at
the skin that felt like satin.  "Uh . . .Harry?" Tom's voice
interrupted his reverie.

He looked up to see Tom's sardonic grin.  In as normal a voice as
possible, he replied, "Yes, Tom?"

"I thought you were helping me to get out of here."

"I am,"  Harry asserted with a grin of his own.

"Funny, I thought you were engaging in a little foreplay.  I'm not
sure the doctor needs anything more to stimulate his imagination."

"He's in his office," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah."  Sliding into a pair of slippers, Tom indicated, "I'm ready.
Let's get out of here."

Once in his room, Tom flopped on the couch, the short trip taking most
of his energy.  Harry seemed to be bustling around as if avoiding him.
There was something Tom needed to know.  Taking a deep breath, he
said, "Harry.  I need your help with something."

"Sure.  What can I do?"

Unable to look at Harry, Tom told the floor, "The doctor said
something clawed me open.  I want you to look.  I'd do it, but I can't
exactly see into that location myself."

"Look?"

"Yeah.  Tell me I still have an asshole."

"That's easy," Harry joked.  "Who needs to look?"  Tom glared at him,
then shared a rueful grin with his lover.  Harry told him, "Okay, lie
down."

Tom swung himself so that he was on his back on the couch, his hands
laced together under his head.

Harry grumbled.  "I get to do all the work here, huh?"

"I thought you'd like this job," Tom protested.

"Got me.  I almost turned you over the biobed to check you out before
we even left sickbay."

As they bantered back and forth, Harry pulled off Tom's pants and
shorts, once again hit with a wave of arousal in his groin at the
sight of Tom's hairless body.  Recovering quickly, he placed Tom's
legs up over his shoulders, then pulled his bottom up to where he
could easily view Tom's anus.  He reported, "Looks okay."

"You can touch it, Harry."

Harry licked his index finger and poked at the darker hued pucker that
vibrated so nicely at his touch.  He pushed the wet finger inside just
a short distance and felt the familiar resistence.  He was able to
detect only faint healed lines that spoke of the earlier trauma.
"Everything looks fine.  How does it feel?"

"Okay.  Just sort of weird to have you looking at it."

"I know, sweetheart.  I'm so sorry you got hurt."

Harry leaned down and planted a kiss on Tom's anus, sucking slightly,
pushing his tongue gently against the healed flesh.

Tom moaned and Harry stopped.  He landed a light kiss on Tom's
semi-soft penis, then lowered the slim legs off his shoulders to the
couch.  Tom complained, "Why'd you stop?"

"Cause you just got out of sickbay.  The doctor'd kill me if he knew I
touched his latest miracle so soon after release.  Besides, we need to
talk."

Harry reached for Tom's shorts and pulled them up the long legs,
fitting them carefully over the soft genitals.  Then he dressed Tom in
his sweat pants.  At his touch, Tom lifted his hips and Harry pulled
the clothes all the way on up to his waist.  "There."

"Now we can talk, is that it?"  Tom asked knowingly.  "You didn't
think we could do that with my legs on your shoulders, my ass in your
face?  Huh, Harry?"

"Asshole," Harry chided with a gentle laugh.  He paced a little beside
the couch.

Tom sighed, "Harry.  Please, sit down.  If we have to talk, then . . .
let's get it over with."

Harry took a seat on a chair pulled up at a slight angle to Tom.
"Okay.  The doctor grilled me pretty good."

"And?"

"I think he's going to talk to Tuvok."

"Shit!  This is all my fault!"

"Hold on there.  I'm a big part of this.  I'm the one who's been
hitting you."

"But I want you to," Tom moaned.

"There's more."

"What do you mean?"

"I think B'Elanna's guessed.  She told me about rumors on the ship."

Tom thought back to his conversation with her on the planet.  The
little dig, the statement that Harry seemed to have him wrapped around
his little finger.  "Yeah, she hinted at something like that with me."
Tom buried his face in his hands.  "What do we do?"

Straightfaced, Harry said, "Next time we're on the bridge, I guess I
should just throw you down across the conn, pull down your pants, and
paddle you in front of everyone, followed by a good fucking, of
course.  Neelix could be tipped off to show it ship wide."

Startled blue eyes flew open.  "No!  Harry don't . . . " then he saw
the huge grin that creased his lover's face and smiled at the spoof on
himself.  "Oh, gods, Harry, don't even joke about it."

Tom turned serious for a moment.  "Harry, I told the doctor that what
we were doing wasn't hurting anyone and he asked me if I was sure.  I
thought I was, but now I'm wondering . . . does doing this . . .you
know, spanking me . . . does it hurt you to do it?"

"No," Harry assured him quickly.

"Are *you* sure?"

Harry gave it some thought.  Sometimes his hand felt sore, but he knew
Tom wasn't asking about that.  At length, he answered, "What would
hurt me would be if you somehow didn't let me know what you needed.  I
don't . . . I don't want you to go to someone else for what you need.
No.  Not because  I'd be jealous, but because I love you.  Perhaps
someone else could do what I do, but if he didn't love you, he'd be
using you.  I don't want that for you."

Wow, thought Tom, does Harry love me that much?  Then, because he
never could leave anything good alone for long, he wondered if Harry
was really so sure of himself.  But all he said was, "Thanks, Harry."

Harry asked, "What about you, Tom?  Is any of this hurting you?"

Before Tom could respond, the comm chimed and Tuvok's voice announced
that he planned to visit them.  Tom looked about the room wildly, as
if seeking  place to hide.  Harry placed a hand on his shoulder,
"Easy, Tom."

"How can things get worse?"

When Tuvok arrived, Tom was sure that things had indeed gotten worse.
Tuvok's face was as impassive and as unreadable as ever.  He took a
chair behind the table that separated them from him.  Placing his
hands calmly on the table, he reported, "The doctor has informed me of
the possibility of abuse.  I will need to question each of you
separately.  Mr. Kim, please wait outside."

Casting Tom a helpless look, Harry stepped out the door of the cabin.
Tom tried to straighten himself on the couch, to look professional, to
look Starfleet.  He was sure he failed in managing to look anything
but extremely embarrassed.

"Mr. Paris, please explain to me how you came to sustain the injuries
on your buttocks which the doctor reported to me." Before Tom could
speak, Tuvok held up his hand.  "Do not try to charm your way out of
this, Mr. Paris."

Tom's embarrassment deepened at that warning.  He had been about to
try talking his way out of this interrogation.  He was going to say
that nothing really bad had occurred and surely the security chief was
too busy to look into such a small matter between friends.  He
realized the anger he'd unleashed on the doctor also wouldn't get him
anywhere with the patient Vulcan.  Defeated, he knew he had no choice
but to just tell the truth, no matter how humiliating.  "Harry and I
are in a relationship."  He looked up at Tuvok, hopeful that would be
enough.  With dismay, he realized  that it was not.  Quietly, he
admitted, "We're lovers."

Tuvok said nothing.  Tom's bright pink coloring did not escape his
notice.  Interesting, he thought.  At the same time, he could relate
to the young man's embarrassment.  Discussing Pon Farr was extremely
difficult for a Vulcan.  "Please tell me about the alleged abuse."

"It isn't abuse, Tuvok.  It's more like . . . like a part of how we
enjoy having sex with each other."

"I do not understand."

No, Tom sighed, I guess you don't.  "Okay.  Let me try this."  Tom
reached inside of himself to locate the words that might help Tuvok
understand.  "I hide behind a lot of masks.  I hide from other people
that way.  And even though I've had years of practice, it takes a lot
of energy to keep them up.  I've also done things in my life that I
regret.  Sometimes I hurt Harry with my thoughtlessness.  When he . .
. when he punishes me, I'm free."

"Free?"

"Yes.  I'm free from having to wear masks.  They're gone, stripped
away.  I'm free from the pile-up of guilt.  And there's a . . . a kind
of release in . . . in my spirit. . . When my butt's on fire, I know
I'm alive.  I *feel* something."  Frustrated, he added, "I don't know
how else to describe this.  I think another part of the whole thing is
that with Harry in charge I don't have to make too many choices.  I've
made a lifetime of bad choices.  This way Harry gets to plan things.
I just sort of go along.  So, again, I'm free.  Does this make any
sense?"

"You're doing very well."

"I am?"

"Yes.  I believe I understand.  There are many rituals which act in
such a way as to focus attention, heighten awareness, expiate guilt."

Oh, thought Tom.

"Although I believe I understand some of what you are saying, I do not
believe that your participation in these activities is without cost."

"You mean apart from the obvious?"  The Vulcan's locked fingers
provided a focal point for Tom's attention.  When Tuvok remained still
and so very quiet, Tom realized he would have to answer.  The security
chief's question was eerily like Harry's unanswered one.  "I guess . .
. sometimes I wonder . . . um. . . sometimes I feel embarrassed.  I'm
a lieutenant, I tell myself.  What the hell am I doing getting hit
like some little kid?  I guess I ask myself that sometimes."

Tuvok said nothing, merely gazed levelly at him, the dark eyes
unblinking, unreadable.  With a shrug, Tom continued, "I'm not much
for looking into myself.  When I do, I don't particularly like what I
find.  I just don't have answers for you.  But Harry said something
before you got here.  He said he loved me and was glad I wasn't with
someone who didn't love me, who'd use me."

"Would you find someone else to meet your needs if they were not met
by Mr. Kim?"

"Would I?" Tom parried, buying a little time.  Then he admitted, "I
have in the past, why would now be any different?  I'm just grateful
I'm with Harry.  Actually, I'm really one hell of a lucky guy."

"Indeed," Tuvok reflected.   Then he surprised Tom by saying, "I have
been aware of your activities."

That got Tom's attention.  Shit.  "Uh. . . you have?"

"Yes.  My hearing is more acute than that of a human's."

"Oh," Tom muttered, his ears turning an intense shade of red.

"I wish to speak with Mr. Kim now.  Are you well enough to remain
outside for a few moments?"  At Tom's nod, he asked, "Would you excuse
yourself and send him in?"

Wordlessly, Tom pushed himself to his feet.  Stiffly, he crossed the
room and sent Harry inside, trying to signal with a waggled hand that
things were sort of all right.

The minutes while Harry was inside with Tuvok seemed to crawl by.  Tom
leaned against the wall for a time.  When that felt uncomfortable, he
sat down, his back supported against the wall, his knees up, his head
resting against them.  Wouldn't you know it, Chakotay took that moment
to come walking along his corridor?

"Lt.?"

Warily, Tom greeted the former Maquis.  "Commander?"

"I thought you'd been released from sickbay to rest in your quarters.
What are you doing out here?"

Good question.  With his luck, Tuvok would pop his head out about now
saying something like, 'Lt. Paris, let's talk some more about the
spankings Harry's been giving you.'  He could just imagine the huge
grin that would put on the big commander's face.  No doubt Chakotay
would want to be next in line to deliver a blow of his own.
Fortunately, Tuvok remained inside with Harry.  "Uh.  Waiting."

Chakotay cocked his head as if Tom's answer were lacking in details.
Furious about the blush that was beginning to spread across his face,
Tom told him, "Harry's doing something inside."

"Oh."  Chakotay tried to figure out what to say next.  Tom looked very
uncomfortable sitting on the floor.  "Would you like to wait for him
with me in the mess hall?  I'm heading there after I've checked out
these decks."

"No, sir.  Thanks just the same.  It'll only be a minute or two more."
I hope, Tom finished the thought in his head.

Chakotay smiled down at the younger man, nodded, and continued on his
way.  Once the Commander was around the curve in the corridor, Tom
sighed in relief .  He hoped the two people in his cabin wouldn't be
much longer.  His butt was sore, but he was also kind of tired and
didn't really want to stand up anymore.  At last.  Tuvok signaled that
he could return.  Scrambling to his feet, Tom realized his butt really
was sore, not just from being sat upon, but deep inside.  Must be the
injury the description of which had half scared him out of his wits.

Inside his quarters, Tuvok motioned him to the couch and apologized
for keeping him waiting.  Tom looked carefully at Harry but gained no
clues as to their fate from that quarter.  Tuvok seemed to quietly
gather himself together.  "Lt., Ensign.  I believe your activities are
entirely voluntary, that no coercion is involved.  And I will so
report this finding to the doctor.  It will go no further. However, I
also believe that you both could se better judgment.  It is not
appropriate for Mr. Paris to be on duty still suffering from the
effects of these activities.  Make sure that this does not happen
again."

"Yes, sir," Harry promised.  "Thank you, sir."

Tom's pale face acknowledged the Commander's words with a slight nod.
He swallowed hard, almost not trusting himself to speak.  When Tuvok
looked pointedly at him, Tom managed to say,  "Uh, yes, sir.  We'll be
sure to . . . to keep your words in mind."

"You would be advised to do more than keep them in mind."

"Yes, sir.  I will."

Tuvok turned his attention to Harry Kim.  "Ensign.  This tree seeking
expedition of Lt. Paris' should not go unpunished.  My recommended
form of discipline is a flogging."

Both young men looked stunned.  On that note, the Vulcan rose and
exited the room.  Tom slumped back into the couch and Harry left his
chair to take a seat next to his stricken lover.  "He didn't mean
that, did he?" Tom gasped.

"He couldn't have.  But . . .do Vulcans have a sense of humor?"

Harry realized that any serious discussion with Tom concerning their
future activities would have to wait.  Tom looked worn out.  Harry
quietly got up, retrieved a blanket and pillow, and tucked Tom in on
the couch.  For his efforts, he was rewarded with a soft smile.  Harry
kissed Tom on the cheek and left his side so that Tom could fall
asleep.

***

Tuvok reported to the doctor in the sickbay office.  "Doctor.  I have
spoken with both Lt. Paris and Ensign Kim.  As I thought, the
situation is entirely voluntary on both their parts."

"You told me you feared that it was escalating."

"And it was.  They both confirmed that the last few discipline
sessions involved a paddle applied to the lieutenant's bare buttocks.
As I told you, my concern was that this behavior might escalate to
involve more harmful activities which could detract from the
lieutenant's job performance, particularly should an emergency occur.
I believe your intervention as well as my own has helped them to slow
down.  Furthermore, when Lt. Paris was waiting in the corridor during
my interview with Mr. Kim, Commander Chakotay happened to walk by.  I
was able to partially overhear their conversation and I believe it is
safe to say that the lieutenant was made quite uncomfortable by the
exchange."

"Very good, Mr. Tuvok.  I see enough of Lt. Paris as a patient when he
hasn't volunteered for it. He will be undergoing a rather invasive
medical procedure in, oh, a few hours."

"And what is the purpose of this procedure?"

"It will help to destroy any bacteria that my earlier treatments
failed to eliminate.  There is the potential for a threatening
build-up of such bacteria.  The creatures that attacked him carried
germs I hadn't seen before."

Tuvok tried to read between the lines.  "I assumed that the lieutenant
was healed from his injuries."

The doctor elaborated, "There's a six percent chance that the bacteria
weren't all killed and will infect the lieutenant with its unknown
properties."

Tuvok pressed the doctor a little more, "Just six percent?"

"That six percent could multiply enough to kill him.  In my lab, I was
able to kill 76 percent of the bacteria with hypospray procedures.
However, 98 percent were killed on contact by an antibacterial
ointment I developed.  It needs to be reapplied periodically to
prevent reinfection from the surviving bacteria."

A quirk of Tuvok's eyebrow greeted that declaration followed by his
departure from sickbay.  Tuvok was satisfied that problems with the
young pilot might actually diminish in number and frequency in the
upcoming months.

***

The comm went off in Paris' cabin.  With Tom asleep on the couch,
Harry answered it, turning his attention from the PADD report on the
planet's creatures.  "Kim here."

It was the doctor.  "Ensign.  It is past time for Lt. Paris to report
for his treatment."

"Sorry, doctor.  He's asleep."

There was silence for a moment.  "Ensign, would you report to sickbay?
Perhaps I can instruct you on administering the treatment."

"Sure."

When Harry returned to the room, Tom was still sleeping on the couch,
his face drawn and tired.  Harry placed the items he'd received in a
bag on the table and went to kneel by his friend and lover.
Regretfully, he placed a hand on Tom's shoulder and gently shook him.
"Tom?  Tom?"

Tom stirred but didn't open his eyes.  Harry tried again.  "Tom.  You
need to wake up."

Blue eyes blinked and seemed to register Harry's presence.  Then they
closed again.  Harry leaned close to his ear and spoke to him, "I hate
to do this to you, Tom.  But you really should be awake."

"What?" demanded a weak, irritated voice, eyes finally open.

"Listen to me, Tom.  The doctor wants me to do this and it'll save you
a trip to sickbay.  But I could use a little help from you."

Confused, Tom asked, "Huh?"

"Remember how the doctor told you about the injury to your . . . uh .
. . backside?"

How could he forget that one?  According to the doc, his asshole had
been torn apart.  "Yeah.  So?"

"He wants me to put some medicine inside you."

Suddenly, Tom was wide awake and sitting bolt upright.  "What?"

"He doesn't want to take any chances with infection.   He said a lot
of bacteria was let loose when you were injured, that the hyposprays
and all aren't enough.  This . . .procedure is supposed to kill any
bugs on contact.  Remember, he told you that you needed to do this
every six hours?" "Uh-huh.  I thought he was talking about a hypospray
or something.  Just what are you supposed to do?"

"Put it inside you," was Kim's abashed response, "spread an ointment
in you were hurt."

"I don't think so," came Tom's determined statement.  "End of
discussion."

Kim commed the doctor.  "Doctor, Tom doesn't want me to do it."

"Very well," came the doctor's voice, "send him here.  I'll take care
of it."

Tom shook his head.  No way, no how.  "No!"

"Tom says 'no'," Harry reported.

"He either allows you to do it or he will be beamed to sickbay
immediately."

"Shit," was Tom's ungracious comment in defeat.  "You do it, Harry."

Harry let the doctor know that the situation was under control.

"Just what I wanted for Christmas Eve, Harry.  How do I get so lucky?"

"The doctor said you might want a tranquilizer to help you get through
it."  Harry thought Tom had sounded a little hysterical.  He lifted a
hypospray.

"No-o, I think I better know what's going on."  Tom stood up and
looked at the bag on the table.  "So, what's the procedure?"

"It's not much different from preparing you for sex."

"Apart from the sex, how is it different?"  Tom's gaze alternated
between the table and Harry.

"The doctor showed me a holovid on how to proceed."

"Enlighten me," was Tom's bitter comment.

Harry opened the bag and placed the sealed objects on the table. 
Latex gloves.  A large tube of ointment, sealed packets of sterile
wipes.  "I put on the gloves, clean your exterior, smear the gloves up
with the ointment, and then work my hand inside of you."

"Hand?"

"If that doesn't work, then it's plan B."

"Plan B?"

"The doctor does it, not me."

"I'm so relieved," Tom mocked him.

"Tom, this should work.  It's not that different."

"Keep telling yourself that, Harry."

"Don't make this so hard, Tom."

"Do I look hard?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry pleaded.  "Please, help me here."

"It isn't your asshole that's getting reamed."

Harry gave up.  "Let's go to the bedroom."

His body rigid, Tom stalked into the bedroom.  At the bed, he crossed
his arms across his chest and glared at Harry.

"Undo your pants and lie down."

Still rigid, Tom loosened his sweat pants and lay down on his back.
Harry had the gloves and ointment in his hands along with the wipes.
He placed these on the bedside table.  He put the pillow in the center
of the bed. "Roll over, Tom."

His face a stiff mask, Tom rolled over onto his stomach, the pillow
under his hips.  He felt Harry pull his sweats and then his shorts all
the way down to his ankles and he knew his face had ignited to a
bright red.  Not wanting to see, he turned away from Harry.  At the
same time, Harry couldn't see the tears that threatened to spill from
Tom's eyes.

Harry placed his hands on the inside of Tom's exposed thighs and
spread his legs widely apart. Tom felt the cool wipe cleaning the
cleft between his buttocks, then his anus.  He clenched his fists, one
fist by his face.

"Please, Tom, try to relax."  Harry didn't hear Tom's response if
there was one.  "I'm putting the cream on my hand now."

Tom felt a gloved hand spreading his cheeks apart.  He heard Harry say
that he was going to enter him with one finger.  Unable to relax,
still rigid with humiliation, Tom gasped when the finger probed at his
anus.  Even as slicked up as the finger was, it hurt when the finger
encountered a resistant opening.  Then it went in and Tom
instinctively clamped down on it.  Harry pulled out.

He didn't know what to do to help his friend and lover.  "Tom, this
isn't  going to work if you can't relax for me.  Should I get the
hypospray?"

As he looked down at Tom, he realized the pilot was weeping silently,
his shoulders shaking.  Harry bent over Tom, half lying on the bed to
be closer to him.  "What is it, Tom?  What's wrong?"

He listened for any words from his lover.  "I can't, I can't," Tom
seemed to be saying.

"Could you pretend we're simply getting ready for sex?"

"No-o."

"Tom, if you won't let me do this, you know the doctor will."

Tom turned his head, one hand coming up to grab Harry.  "No!!!"

Harry could see the tears that wet Tom's face and believed he was as
unhappy and as miserable as he looked.  Harry leaned down further to
that sad face and kissed him.  "I love you, Tom.  I love you.  Please
help me."

Tom tried to conquer his fear.  This was Harry, this was today, not
someone from sometime in his past.  Harry wouldn't hurt him.  He told
himself that again.  Harry wouldn't hurt him.  He nodded.  He would
try.  He whispered, "I'm sorry, Harry, I'll do my best."

Harry kissed him again on the lips, then on each wet eyelid.  "Thank
you, love."

Once more, Tom felt one gloved hand brace his cheeks open.  Then one
slick, gloved finger traced a ring around his anus as Harry crooned to
him, "You're so beautiful, Tom.  Do you know how much I love looking
at this beautiful sight?"

Tom relaxed fractionally and Harry was able to slip in the first
finger.  Tom felt it easing deeper and deeper until it broke past the
tight sphincter.  Now he felt the increasing length of Harry's finger
stroking inside him in gentle motions.  Harry kept up an almost
constant murmur of appreciation of Tom and his sweet ass.  Harry
warned him of the second finger and Tom felt himself initially resist,
then, as he consciously tried to relax, the two fingers slid inside
him.  As they worked into him, he let himself feel the gentleness of
Harry's ministrations.

Although tears still leaked from his eyes, he knew he wasn't as tight
as he had been just moments before.  And he had to admit, when he
could remember that this was Harry, his lover's very gentle touch
inside him felt good, that the soothing rhythm to the strokes of his
fingers felt almost . . . erotic.

Harry took his time, soothing his lover with his words and with his
touch. Once Tom seemed to be accustomed to the two fingers deep inside
of him and to the necessary stretching, Harry pulled them out.  He
smeared on a great deal more of the ointment and began the slow
process of inserting three fingers inside Tom's still very tight hole.
"It's all right now, love, your ass is okay with this, it likes these
love strokes inside of you.  Let it happen.  Your lovely asshole is
easing open now.  It's just three fingers, nothing you haven't felt
before.  There, Tom, there love, you'll be okay now."

Tom's resistance to the three fingers wasn't easy to give up.  He
tensed, yet tried not to tighten up entirely.  Harry's words calmed
him and, although it hurt a little, he was able to let him in.  Harry
went very slowly, the three fingers probing and stretching in
millimeters.  Then the second knuckles worked past the guardian to his
rectum and the longer interior fingers massaged the slick walls found
there.  Patiently, Harry worked him, at times using the other hand to
add more ointment to the anus, swirling it around the fingers buried
deep inside Tom, easing the stretched opening.

Then the fingers were pulled out and more ointment was spread on the
almost painfully revealed anus.  "Just breathe evenly, Tom, deep
breaths now.  Remember how much I love you, how beautiful I think you
are.  We're going for four fingers now, it's going to be all right.
Easy, baby, easy."

When the four fingertips pressed against him, Tom went still, his body
fighting the invasion.  But Harry just rested the tips of his fingers
at the opening and left them in place until Tom gained more control of
himself.  Tom took a deep shuddering breath, muttered, "Okay."

Hearing that faint sound of acquiescence and seeing the slight
unclenching of Tom's ass muscles, Harry pressed the fingers against
the opening and slid along the already opened beginning.  Once he
began to press beyond the  initial stages, Tom signaled with his
tightening his growing distress. Again, Harry stopped in place and
crooned to him, then he brushed his lips against Tom's back, kissing
down the t-shirted back now soaked with Tom's sweat.  Once again, Tom
began to relax and Harry pressed the advantage, sluicing all four
fingers into him as smoothly as possible.  Tom gasped, feeling so
stretched he wondered if a shuttle couldn't fly through.

Harry's fingers and thumb were now as deep as the third knuckles that
remained just outside the straining ring.  In short, smooth strokes,
Harry pushed and pushed, easing Tom open far wider than before, far
wider than Harry had ever stretched him.  Finally, the anus was
stretched tautly around the widest part of the hand and Harry pushed
through.  Intent on getting inside, Harry didn't notice the erection
that poked out from underneath Tom's body.

Quickly, Harry followed the doctor's instructions to smear the entire
interior surface of the rectum with the ointment.  Tom jumped against
his hand when he brushed the prostate. He penetrated as deeply as
possible, his wrist now settled at the opening of Tom's anus.  He
continued smoothing ointment deeply inside his partner.  Through the
thin gloves he felt the slick rectal walls, the rougher lines where
the tears had been regenerated.  Gently, Harry rubbed as much of the
ointment as he could on those healing places.  He penetrated as far up
the curve in the colon as he could, his arm sliding in as deeply as
needed, his hand rotating, smearing ointment as it went.

Satisfied that there was no more to be done, Harry gradually began to
pull out.  When the widest part of his hand was ready to stretch apart
Tom's reddened anus one more time, he asked Tom to push outward and
the knuckles popped free.  He slid out and covered the sore opening
with large amounts of the ointment.  Done at last, he ungloved his
hand and rested his hand on Tom's rounded buttock.

"I'm done.  It's over."

Feeling as if he'd been cored open, felt up, and impaled beyond his
most horrific nightmares, Tom curled his legs up toward his chest,
crying softly.  Even his body had betrayed him when he felt the
stirrings of desire that still confused him.  Feeling debased and
humiliated, Tom covered his head with his hands.  Harry lifted him up
under the arms and held him to his chest, one hand behind Tom's head.

"It's all over, now, it's over, Tom.  You did fine, baby, just fine.
Easy now, easy."

Tom was almost limp in his arms as Harry swept kisses across his wet
face. The kisses, the mixed messages from his ass and his cock,
Harry's warmth, all broke through his barriers and he flung his arms
around his lover, resting his head in the haven of Harry's shoulder.
An ungloved hand ran itself up and down Tom's back under the t-shirt
and down across his slick buttocks to his bare thighs then back up
again.  As the exhausted man in his arms seemed to give in to the
fatigue engendered by the last tense half hour, Harry let Tom's torso
down gently onto the bed.  He tossed the pillow aside and set Tom on
his back.

Harry sat close, one hand on the side of Tom's face.  Tom's eyes were
closed, his facial muscles still reflecting his tension.  Harry
glanced down the long length of his lover, noting the strangely smooth
skin around his cock and balls where normally there was a tangle of
tawny pubic hair.  The long legs stretched out below in a slightly
open V.  Although there was only the faintest sign of arousal left in
that now quiescent cock, Harry himself inhaled sharply at the sight.
He recognized how turned on he himself had become from being so deeply
inside of Tom, so in control of his lover's body.  In his mind, he
recalled how his whole hand had disappeared into that once small
puckered opening.  He remembered clearly how the anus fit around his
wrist and arm like an old fashioned condom.  If only Tom had been able
to overcome the fear that had so seized his slim body.  He worried
about the cause of Tom's fear.  Had it been him?

Harry's eyes returned to the softly mounded cock and balls of his
lover as they lay against his groin, breathing in time with Tom's
inhalations and exhalations.  Tom was so beautiful, this absence of
hair making him so close to the fantasy he'd had of Tom as an angel.
He brushed his hand long Tom's cheek, "Sleep, baby.  It's okay now."

As Tom drifted off to sleep, he was aware of Harry's gentle caresses
and sensed the man's eyes on his body.  He realized that Harry was
turned on by interpreting the sound of his lover's breathing.  But Tom
was too tired to  do anything to help Harry at this point.  Before he
let himself go, he momentarily remembered that this whole unpleasant
procedure was supposed to be repeated in just six hours.  He couldn't
think about it now, he was too tired.   ***

"Captain, the away team's succeeded," Chakotay reported to Janeway in
her ready room.

"What's the news?"

"The creatures on the planet regard their trees as sacred objects.
When Tom tried to take one, they didn't understand anything but the
fact that one of their trees had been injured and severed from its
life force.  In their cultures, no one does that to the trees.
Apparently, they will harvest old and diseased trees, but only after
the life force has left the tree.  So, they swiftly went after the
tree to restore it to its life force before it was too late.  In their
haste, they didn't pay any attention to  Tom.  They say they regret
injuring our pilot."

"Do they understand why we wanted the tree?"

"Yes, when it was explained that the tree was to be used for a sacred
ritual in our culture, they understood.  In fact," Chakotay grinned,
"they have invited us to choose from among one of the trees that has
lost its life force.  In deference to the difference in 'real'
Christmas trees as discussed by Harry and Tom, we have permission to
take two such trees. They'll guide us to the proper ones."

Janeway stood up, a huge smile on her face.  Clapping her hands, she
said, "This is good news.  Would you tell Harry and Tom?  I think they
should be allowed to pick out the trees.   You and they can beam down
whenever you're all ready."  After a thoughtful moment, she added,
"You know, I wouldn't mind going down there myself."

Chakotay grinned at her, his dimples making his face seem ten years
younger.  He held out his arm for her and, once she hooked it,
proceeded out of the ready room.

***

Virtually the entire senior staff  beamed down to the planet
surface's, Tom and Harry, Kathryn and Chakotay, Tuvok and B'Elanna.
If Tuvok felt uneasy about the make-up of the away team, he held
himself in check.  After all, the away team who established
communications reported the native creatures to be friendly and
nonthreatening.  Depending on the species, they had no weapons save
their teeth, claws and hooves.

Janeway snatched surreptitious glances at the pilot, carefully
assessing his well being.  Apart from a pinched look of fatigue about
his eyes, he seemed all right.  She was glad that he would have the
opportunity to go back to the planet and put to rest any nightmares he
might incur due to the earlier attack.  If he did retain any lingering
effects, Harry had placed imself at the pilot's elbow, ready to help
if needed.  She wondered at the seeming strain between both of them
and the security chief.

The group had selected a private location for the beam down and
followed the directions of the earlier away team to the forest and the
waiting natives.  Janeway noticed that Tom seemed to flinch when he
saw the large group of natives, his body language preparing him to
flee if necessary.  However, when they reached the natives, it was
clear from their body language that they meant no harm.  Two creatures
came forward to greet the away team, a large, horse-like native and a
small tiger-like creature.  The grey-green 'horse' sat on its haunches
before Tom and the 'tiger' rubbed itself against Tom's legs emitting a
purr-like sound.

Tom's apprehension, hell, his downright fear, vanished when the tiger
began to purr against his leg.  He smiled shyly at Harry and asked
Chakotay, "What's okay here?"

The horse emitted noises that the universal translator clarified, "We
are sad that you were hurt.  We did not want to hurt you.  We did not
know what you were, that you were a creature, too."

"Oh.  Okay.  Look, I'm sorry about hurting your tree."

The tiger rose up on its rear legs and placed its soft paws against
Tom's chest.  The purrs were translated as, "You love trees, too.  It
will be well.  Come.  We have some trees whose life force has left
them for you to use in your worship."

Almost without thinking, Tom stroked the head of the green and yellow
striped creature now rubbing its ear against his chest.  The
creature's purr increased in intensity.  Tom asked, "Is this okay?"

"This humble *merckle* likes your action," the creature said with an
untranslatable word a part of its statement.  From the context, Tom
and the others deduced that *merckle* was either its species or its
name.

Tom scratched its ears before the creature returned to all fours.  The
horse observed the proceedings with an expression that seemed to
convey satisfaction.

"Shall we go?" Janeway encouraged.

The horse and tiger led them to places in the forest where a long
needled tree, not as vibrantly colored as its surrounding trees, was
pointed out to them.  Since this was Harry's favorite kind of tree the
young ensign was invited to critically inspect the find.  He
pronounced it completely satisfactory and the horse and tiger in a
coordinated action that was  almost a blur, detached the tree from its
home and presented it to Harry.

"Thank you," Harry told them solemnly.  From the incredible speed of
their actions, Harry realized how easy a target Tom had been when
they'd come after the earlier tree.  He also realized how effective
their hooves and claws were in bringing down the tree in moments.

Tom, too, appreciated the speed and potential deadliness of these
natives. He realized how lucky he was to be alive.  Maybe he'd forgive
the doctor the medical treatment Harry had performed.  From his
sickbay duties he knew too well the difficulty in treating injuries
sustained on new worlds with new sources of potential infection.  Only
a few years before both Janeway and Chakotay had been suspended in
stasis chambers and then left on a planet because of an unknown virus
they had not been able to cure.  A nudge from Harry snapped him out of
his reverie.  The tiger, who seemed to like him, was once again
rubbing against his leg and purring.  It was telling him they could go
look for the next tree.  Shrugging, Tom smiled at Harry, his first
smile since the procedure several hours earlier.  "Let's go.  Can't
have the wrong Christmas tree on Voyager."

"We have the right tree," Harry corrected.

"Not in my book."

"Boys," Janeway warned.

With an unrepentant Tom Paris smile, the pilot grinned at her and
said, "Sorry, Captain."

A few minutes later a short needled tree was pointed out to Tom.  He
walked around it, gave it a careful appraisal, then nodded.  "Looks
good."

In a repeat blur, the creatures had the tree ready for Tom in under a
minute.

"Thanks," Tom told them.

The horse snuffled and said, "We are curious about your ceremony."

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged glances.  "It's Christmas Eve," she
told him.

"Yes, it is."

Four sets of eyes rested on the security chief, with B'Elanna simply
looking on in bemused silence.  Tuvok asked the Captain, "I take it
you are asking about bringing more of the crew down to have a
celebration here on this planet?"

"I was wondering about that, yes."

"As long as the natives agree, I see no security reason that would
prevent it."

***

The trees were set up in the clearing, bases provided and self-powered
tiny lights wound around each tree from base to top.  Tom brought down
the decorations he'd been hiding and began decorating *his*tree along
with others who thought his tree was the correct tree for the
occasion.  On the  other hand, Harry had a few decorations of his own
and brought them down for *his* tree.  Just as some of the crew
thought Tom had the correct tree, others considered Harry's tree
perfect and decorated it with their balls, ribbons, bells, and other
reminders of Alpha Quadrant holidays.  Tom's tree had a star on its
top.  Harry's tree was topped by an angel.

As dusk descended, Neelix organized a holiday meal down on the
surface, the natives invited to participate along with the starship
crew.  On one table sat a large menorah with white candles set in
place, the table offering smaller candles in burn-proof flat holders.
These candles were to be lit and held in the darkness.  One by one the
crew picked up a candle and had it lit by the person just ahead.
Candle light and the lights on the trees cast eerie shadows on the
alien planet.  A guitar and a flute played ancient carols in the
background.

The crew surrounded the now laden trees with at least ten different
species of native creatures intermingled in their midst.  Once all
crew members were seated on the ground, each holding a lit, glowing
candle, into the solemn silence little Naomi asked, "Why do we light
this candle?"

The answers to her question came from different traditions, Jewish,
Catholic, Protestant, Evangelical, Eastern Orthodox, and so on around
the globe of old earth and then around the settled planets of the
Alpha Quadrant represented by Voyager's crew.  As the old stories were
retold, the native creatures listened with care, hearing messages of
hope and redemption, peace and serenity.

Then the music increased in volume and very old songs were sung.  One
traditional song, in particular, touched the natives with its
references to 'friendly beasts'.

In a strong bass, Harry led off:

'Jesus, our brother, kind and good, was humbly born in a stable of
wood. And the friendly beasts around him stood, Jesus our brother kind
and good.

B'Elanna's serious alto continued:

I, said the donkey shaggy and brown, I carried his mother up hill and
down. I carried her safely to Bethlehem town. I, said the donkey,
shaggy and brown.

Neelix (importantly):

And I, said the cow all white and red, I gave him my manger for a bed.
I gave him my hay for to pillow his head. I said the cow all white and
red.

Chakotay (grinning):

I, said the sheep with a curly horn, I gave him my wool for his
blanket warm and he wore my coat on that Christmas morn. I said the
sheep with a curly horn.

Tom (leaning back on Harry):

I, said the dove from the rafters high, I cooed him to sleep that he
should not cry. We cooed him to sleep, my love and I. I, said the
dove, from the rafters high.

Tuvok (solemnly):

And I, said the camel all yellow and black, over the desert upon my
back. I brought him a gift in the wise men's pack. I, said the camel
yellow and black.

Janeway (proudly):

Thus every beast, remembering it well, in the stable dark, was so
proud to tell Of the gifts that they gave Emmanuel, the gifts that
they gave Emmanuel.

Seven (remembering the collective): (repeat first verse)

Jesus our brother, kind and good, was humbly born in a stable of wood.

Doctor (smugly):

And the friendly beasts around him stood, Jesus our brother kind and
good'

As the notes of the music died away on the evening breeze, Harry
looked down to find Tom nearly asleep, his head rested against Harry's
chest, one hand loosely upon the tiger lying next to him, its muzzle
on Tom's thigh.  "Hey," Harry whispered, "I think it may be time for
bed."

Warm and at peace, Tom gazed up at his lover's face that glowed hazily
in the candlelight.  "Hmm.  Don't want to move."

Surreptitiously, the doctor walked over and took a tricorder reading
on his most troublesome patient.  He leaned down and smiled at Tom.
If Tom hadn't been so suffused with a sleepy warmth, he wouldn't have
believed it possible that the doctor smiled at him.  So, he smiled
back, a dreamy look on his face.

Harry told the doctor, "I hate to disturb him to put him to bed."

"I think we can call this a medical beam-up."  To Tom, the doctor
said, "Say good-night to your friend there, it's time for you to go
home."

A little more awake, Tom knew when he'd been outvoted and
outmaneuvered.  Turning to the tiger and to the horse who was not much
farther away, he told them, "Thanks for the trees.  And . . .well,
it's been a memorable Christmas Eve."

The tiger purred, a little drool dribbling on to Tom's thigh, and
said, "We wish you peace, Tom Paris."

Almost as if it were shy, the horse snuffled his head against Tom's
shoulder and wickered its soft nose against Tom's cheek.  Tom raised
an arm to pet its long head.  "You, too," Tom told them.

Harry helped Tom to his feet, and, as with a few others, disappeared
to where they could beam up privately without the natives realizing
exactly what had transpired.  The doctor dogged their path and
rematerialized in Tom's room, standing beside the two lovers.

Harry wasn't surprised, but Tom did a double take.  "Uh, doctor, this
isn't sickbay."

"I'm making a house call, Lt."  The doctor directed Tom to lie down on
his bed.  Too tired to argue, Tom did as asked while Harry hovered
just behind the doctor.

After scanning Tom much as he had done on the surface, the doctor
turned to Harry and both moved away out of Tom's earshot.  "Doctor?"

"Ensign.  I'm afraid he may have overdone it.  His temperature is
elevated and his blood pressure is lower than it was before he left
sickbay this morning."

"I put the ointment in, doctor," Harry assured the doctor, fearing he
was being criticized for not taking good enough care of his lover.
"And it wasn't easy."

"How do you mean?"

"I thought it'd be . . . you know . . . like getting ready for sex.
He reacted almost as if I were planning to rape him."

"That kind of reaction wouldn't have surprised me had I done it, but
to react like that to you . . ."

"Yeah.  I didn't understand it then.  I'll tell you, doctor, I'd do
almost anything to avoid having to do that again."

"Ensign, his fever . . ."

Harry interrupted, "Maybe it isn't a build-up of the bacteria, but
just . . .  overdoing it."

"No, there's definitely a bacteriological cause.  I hate to spoil the
evening, but you're going to have do it again.  I had figured that
three times spaced six hours apart would kill any efforts on the part
of the bacteria to grow.  Since he's only had the one treatment and
there's signs of infection, I have to believe that the original
protocol was correct.  Unfortunately, the gut is a perfect environment
for infection: dark, warm, moist.  With hyposprays I had him protected
against the usual bacteria found there, but this is an alien one.  The
only really effective treatment is that ointment topically applied."

"Doctor, please." Harry was upset with the dilemma the doctor
presented.  On the one hand, he would have to hurt his friend and
lover one more time and perhaps even twice more, on the other hand, he
couldn't let Tom succumb to an invasion of alien bacteria.  "I don't
know if I can.  You didn't see . . . "

"I know I could give him a sedative to put him under, but having this
procedure done while he was unconscious . . ."

"Yeah.  That might be worse.  You don't understand."

"What did he tell you?"

Looking a bit chagrined, Harry made sure that Tom wouldn't overhear
them. "He told me this goes back to when he was in prison.  He was so
apologetic."

"I still don't know what you're saying, Ensign."

Harry took a deep breath, knowing it would be difficult to reveal
Tom's secret, but the doctor really did need to understand the
situation.  "The . . . uh. . . first time Tom was raped, he went to
the prison infirmary for reatment.  The doctor there insisted on doing
a full internal exam, manually.  Tom said the doctor claimed he
couldn't use any lubricant because it might destroy the evidence.  Tom
said he felt  raped all over again."

The doctor winced at the ensign's description.  "I understand."
Pausing for a moment to pay respect to the Lt.'s bravery, the doctor
returned to the problem at hand, and asked, "How long since you put in
the ointment?"

Harry checked the time.  "Seven hours, forty minutes.  Look, couldn't
the next treatment wait until morning?  Tom's exhausted."

The doctor shook his head.  "No.  I don't dare risk waiting.  I'm
sorry, Ensign.  I'll stay and help however I can."

The sleeping area was only at 20 percent illumination but, when they
returned to the bed, they could make out Tom turned on his side away
from them.  His legs were brought up, his breathing was even.  Light
snores indicated that he was asleep.

"Oh, shit," Harry exclaimed, the word as soft as it was
uncharacteristic. Harry sat on the bed next to his lover's curled up
body.  When he placed his hand on Tom's forehead, he could feel the
fever that signaled the onset of infection.  Sighing deeply, Harry
stroked his finger along Tom's cheek.  "Sweetheart?  It's me, I'm
sorry to wake you up, but . . . but it's time."

A few more finger strokes, a few more words, and Tom finally opened
his eyes.  What was Harry thinking, waking him up like this?  He just
wanted to sleep.  But Harry wouldn't stop talking.  "What?"

Tom heard the word 'treatment' and shuddered.  Not again.  Not another
humiliating and confusing invasion.  "No," he protested.  "No, Harry,
please."

"I'm so sorry, love.  You've got a fever and the doctor insists."

The doctor?  Tom's eyes flew open and he rolled onto his back.  Sure
enough, there was the holographic doctor standing near his bed.
Scared and angry, Tom demanded, "Why's he still here?  He wants to
watch?  Not enough action in sickbay?"

"Sh-h, Tom.  He's here 'cause he's worried about you."

Tom snorted, "Yeah, right."

"Lt., I'm the one who patched you up to begin with.  There is nothing
to be embarrassed about."

"Fine.  We'll trade places."

Harry stepped in, trying to soothe, "Tom, please, I know this bothers
you.  But you're running a fever."  Harry put an edge to his voice,
"We've got to kill the bugs. Now.  The doc here can help you through
this."

Oh, gods, Tom thought, this can't be happening.  Now there was to be a
witness.  "No.  I don't think so.  Please, doc, just go.  Please?"

Hearing the lieutenant beg him was a surprise for the doctor.  This
must be very important to the young pilot.  "I'll get the materials
and then I'll go over to the couch.  I'll be available if needed, but
I won't be here watching."

Once the doctor had left the ointment, gloves, and wipes on the night
stand and moved away, Harry asked Tom, "Is there any way to make this
easier?"

"No," Tom admitted, miserable by thoughts of the whole ordeal that lay
ahead.  "Just . . . just stay close to me."

Looking down on his huddled friend, Harry wondered something.  He
began to remove his own pants and noted the question in Tom's eyes.

"Harry?"

"We'll be even."  He managed a grin for the puzzled man on the bed.
"You won't have on pants, then neither will I."

"Oh," a small voice said.

Dilated pupils watched as Harry removed first his trousers and then
his shorts, his muscular thighs glinting in the dim light.  Harry
moved on to the bed and lay next to Tom bringing his hand up to Tom's
face.  "It's going to be all right, love.  It will."

Trust and fear vied for dominance and finally stood apart in wary
truce as Tom struggled to deal with his feelings.  He nodded and
Harry's hand went to his pants, opening the waist, unbuttoning the
soft trousers.  With a kiss to Tom's dry lips, Harry pulled the pants
down, stopping only to remove Tom's shoes and socks.  Despite the
knowledge of what was to come, Harry couldn't help appreciating the
long legs that disappeared into the white of Tom's shorts.  He ran a
hand along the length of the thigh, over the light fabric to Tom's
waist and down again.  As Harry's eyes tracked the movement of his
hand, Tom's eyes fastened on to Harry's face and fixed there.

Harry lay down next to Tom, one hand on Tom's waist, the other
stroking over the white cloth from Tom's waist to his thigh and back
again, his hand moving ever slightly more backward until it smoothed
across a rounded buttock, slowly moving there up and down in a steady
rhythm.  "It's okay, love," Harry whispered.  "It's all right."

Tom felt his lover's hand as a caress, light, soft, nonthreatening.
It felt good, calming his fears so that trust had a chance.  He nodded
again, his eyes never leaving Harry's face until Harry leaned in to
kiss him.  It was a kiss like an unremembered dream, almost there, but
not quite real. Tom closed his eyes and allowed Harry to pull his
shorts down, both of his lover's hands lifting the waistband, then
easily bringing them over cooperating hips.  Tom felt the cloth, the
fingers, all move down his legs to his ankles and then the shorts were
gone.  He remained in place, eyes closed, waiting for directions from
Harry.

There was a wait during which he could hear the snap of gloves as
these were put in place, the tear of the wrapping that covered the
wipes.  He could smell the antiseptic odor of the wipes, then felt
Harry gently roll him to his side, his back to Harry.  His top leg was
pushed up and away and Tom began to tense, thinking the invasion was
about to start.  Instead, a gloved hand caressed his flank, a soft
voice crooned words of reassurance and he allowed himself to relax a
little.

He started at the feel of the cool wipe against his backside, a hand
pushing his cheeks apart, the wipe leaving its trail of wet antiseptic
down his cleft, stopping to wipe and push against his puckered anus.
Tom took in a deep breath and held it as the gloved hand pushed the
wipe more and more insistently against him.  The pressure and wipe
disappeared and he let out his breath.  A hand rested on his shoulder
for a moment.  He heard Harry's voice, low and soft, murmuring that he
was doing fine.  He tried not to shudder, knowing what was to come
next.

Harry leaned across him, brushed his hair out of his face, and again
lightly kissed him.  Tom brought up his hand and gripped Harry's
gloved one briefly.  Harry squeezed Tom's hand and moistened Tom's
face with his light kisses.  "I have to get some ointment on my
fingers now.  It's all right, you're going to be all right."

A slight tremor passed through Tom as he fought against the fear.
However, trust remained in ascendance.  Harry moved away enough to do
what he had to do.  Briefly, Tom understood that trust had practice in
recent months and knew Harry would stop if he absolutely could stand
no more.  In a way, Harry had trained him to allow liberties that no
one else could take.

In another moment, Harry's hand once again pushed at the back of his
leg trying to widen the distance between Tom's legs.  Tom was able to
move his leg higher up and grabbed the knee with his own hand, holding
himself as open to Harry as he could.  With his other hand, Tom
grasped the pillow under his head.

The next thing he felt was the gloved hand spreading his cheeks far
apart and Harry's finger pressed against his opening.  The ointment
slicked that wrinkled flesh so that the finger could slide in
following the curve of Tom's sphincter.  Harry worked the finger
gently in to the first knuckle, hen the second knuckle. Finally, he
went all the way in to the third knuckle, Harry's thumb resting on the
delicate, bare landscape between his anus and his balls.  Harry's
finger thrust in and out, sliding along the only slightly resisting
internal walls.  Pulling the finger out to the first knuckle, Harry
worked the index finger in next to it and pushed both inside as if
they were one finger.   During this invasion, Tom attempted to control
his breathing, mentally telling himself to trust Harry, Harry wouldn't
hurt him, Harry was trying to help him.  The thoughts became almost a
chant to accompany his breathing, to keep himself calm.

Harry slid the third finger inside like a swept wing parallel to the
first finger, as the index finger took the role of a fuselage.  The
three fingers stretched him open, the sphincter loosening finally
until Harry was able to add the fourth finger.  Tom felt the phalanx
of the third knuckles like an ungainly shuttle intruding on shuttle
bay doors.  Harry spread ointment liberally around the waiting the
opening, coating the outside and inside, as well as the remaining part
of his hand and thumb that were yet to gain entrance to Tom's inner
passageway.

Harry's whispered guidance told him to relax, relax.  And trust opened
the gateway, allowing Harry's hand inside once again, up to his wrist.
Clenching his jaw, Tom recognized the feeling of fullness that was so
much greater than when Harry's engorged cock resided there.  The
fingers moved up and down those interior walls, circling the rectum
first one way and then the other.  The soft strokes across his
prostate tightened his body in reaction, his cock jumped, swelled.
Tom moaned at the confusion in his body and mind.

At some point Harry's hand inside of him stopped, then moved back,
moved away, moved back again. "Sweetheart, there's something here, I
need to call the doctor over."

What?  "No-o, please no."  Tom couldn't bear to have the doctor see
him with Harry's hand in his ass.  Almost automatically, his body
clenched down on Harry's hand.

"Easy, baby, easy.  It's almost over.  Please, sweetheart, just a few
more minutes."

Screwing his eyes closed tighter than before, Tom tried to relax his
sphincter's grip on Harry's wrist.  Harry gave him more encouragement
but Tom finally gave in to the knowledge that fear had returned to
thumb its nose at trust.  He would try to pretend that this wasn't
happening, that the doctor wasn't leaning over the bed, wasn't looking
at Harry's arm coring open his ass.

Harry and the doctor discussed something in low tones.  Tom felt
Harry's finger point to a place externally on his buttock,
corresponding to the place where Harry's internal fingers rested
against the rectal wall.  The  doctor murmured something and he could
tell a tricorder was scanning the place very closely.  He could almost
feel the slight shift of air as the instrument in the doctor's hands
went back and forth over his bare buttocks, over Harry's arm with its
hand still buried deeply inside of him.  Tom gripped the pillow under
his head tightly, waiting with held breath for this ordeal to be over.

Thank the gods, Harry was pulling his hand out.  He could hear the
soft plop as the sphincter released the invader and he could hear
himself release his own breath.  The now empty chamber felt strange;
if sentient, it might wonder where the fullness had gone.  Then Harry
lay down next to him, Harry's chest against his back, Harry's arms
wrapped around him coming to join ungloved fingers together across
Tom's chest.  "You need to stay in osition, Tom.  I'm sorry, but the
doctor has to go inside."

A cry went out and Tom stiffened in Harry's arm.  Tom shook his head
side to side, his grip on the pillow became so rigid he thought he
might never again be able to move his fingers.  Tom realized that
although Harry's chest held his back to him, Harry hadn't fully
spooned around his body. From the waist down, Harry was apart from
him.  Tom jumped when he felt the doctor's hand on his hip.  Trying to
stop the coming invasion, Tom tried to close his legs, but Harry told
him no and moved his hand to pull Tom's leg back up.  "Tom, Tom,
please don't do this.  Please, baby, trust me.  It'll be all over in a
minute, I promise."

Tom lay rigidly still, Harry griping his leg underneath his knee, the
doctor's hands on his ass.  In a fast, smooth motion, the doctor's
ointment covered fingers slid inside.  Tom felt the fingers move to
the same place  where Harry's fingers had stopped, the same place
Harry had pointed to on his backside  The doctor probed gently but
very firmly and Tom realized there was some kind of bulge there inside
of him.  Oh, gods.  Tom's fears kayoed trust out of the ring, and a
sob caught in his throat.  He almost didn't hear Harry's voice in his
ear, pushing soft sounds at his uncomprehending consciousness.  Then
the doctor pulled out and as if in a ightmare, Tom heard him announce,
"It's all over, Lt. You can relax now."

"I'll be right with you, sweetheart.  You did fine."

Harry pulled a sheet over Tom's shaking form and reluctantly left the
bed.  After pulling on his pants, Harry joined the doctor knowing they
had to talk.

Tom shook with tremors and buried his face further into the pillow.
That hadn't happened, that couldn't have happened.  He should have
just bled to death on that planet.  Never been revived, never had to
face this assault n his dignity.  Hadn't he left such situations
behind in New Zealand?  He cried into the pillow trying to remain as
quiet as possible so as not to disturb his lover.  Harry had tried so
hard to help him get through this, he didn't deserve such a sniveling
wreck of a lover.  Harry deserved so much better than him.

Whatever was inside of him, in that most private of places, maybe it'd
kill him and the shame and pain would finally stop.  He heard them
return to the side of the bed but remained with his head buried under
the pillow.  No such luck.  Harry was telling him they had to talk,
that it was important.  Through the dampening of the pillow he could
hear the concern in his lover's voice.

"Tom.  The doctor says there's some infection inside you, where the
skin healed over.  It's the alien bacteria.  He says its serious."

Tom gave up hiding.  He pulled the pillow off his head and turned
over, wincing when his sore bottom hit the bed.  "What happens now?
More drilling and excavation?"

The doctor ignored his sarcasm.  "Identify the exact coordinates of
site, transport out the infection, load up the site with the
antibacterial cream."

Tom blanched.  It was worse than he thought.  "If you're talking about
the *site* you just explored, I think I'd rather die."

"Tom.  No!" Harry implored.  "Please.  I know . . . look, I know how
embarrassing this is, but you really will die unless the doctor treats
you."

"Fine."  Tom's mind was made up.  He could already feel the increasing
temperature that accompanied the infection.  He felt the ache in his
bones and joints.  Maybe it would be swift, maybe he wouldn't hurt too
much while the infection claimed him.

"Don't do this, Tom.  Don't close yourself off from me!  Don't be so
stubborn and selfish that you'd leave me alone without you.  Don't!"

Tom stared up at Harry's pinched face.  This was real anger.  His
lover's eyes were so dark that they threatened to overwhelm everything
else.

"What?  If I die, you'll spank me?"

Harry looked angry enough to strike Tom.  "You think I won't?  Come
on, I'll haul your bare ass over my knee right now.  Let's do it!"

Tom cringed back from Harry's anger.  "Let me go, Harry.  Just let me
go."

"You've given up, haven't you?  How dare you give up just because the
way to save your life involves some indignities?  How dare you?"

Tom rolled over, the sheets entangling in his legs as he pulled the
pillow defiantly over his head.  But Harry grabbed the pillow and
threw it across the room.  He pushed Tom back over onto his back and
kneeled on the bed, his angry face in Tom's defeated one.      "I
won't let you give up.  Do you hear me, Tom?  I love you and I will
fight for you.  If I have to have you declared incompetent and make
this decision for you, you are going to live, godammit, do you
understand me?"

"Jeez, if it means that much to you," Tom conceded sullenly.

"No. *It* doesn't mean that much to me. *You* do."

"A sucker bet, Harry."

"Not for me."

Tom realized he wasn't going to change Harry's mind.  He hated what
was going to happen to him, hated his helplessness and the alien bug
that had invaded his body.  Grimacing tightly, Tom nodded.  His voice
flat, he capitulated, "All right.  Do it."

The doctor hovered nearby, letting the two deal with the lack of
choices open to the lieutenant.  He stepped forward at this point and
directed, "We'll need to leave.  If you feel up to putting some pants
on, we can get started."

Tom glared at the doctor while Harry retrieved a soft pair of sweat
pants. Moving to the edge of the bed, the pilot pulled them on.  Harry
gave him a pair of slippers that Tom slipped onto his feet.  But when
Tom stood up, he winced.  There were no sexually induced endorphins
floating around to dull the ache in his ass.  The sensation of having
a hand up his ass was still with him as he took a few awkward steps
away from the bed.  He felt lightheaded as well, probably from the
growing fever.  "Doc, I don't think I'm going to make it."

Harry grabbed him around the waist before Tom's legs gave out.  As Tom
struggled to stand up, the doctor called for a site to site transport
to sickbay.

Once in his own domain, the doctor quickly settled Tom in a biobed.
He set up an IV drip and prepared for the brief surgery.  This time
Harry was allowed to hold Tom's hand.  After the doctor administered a
brief local anesthetic, he removed Tom's pants and draped him
appropriately for the surgery, applying additional antibacterial cream
around and in Tom's anus  and rectum.  He sent a nanoprobe in to the
site of infection, marked it carefully, then transported out the bulk
of the infection to a waiting sterile tube.  Lancing the site, the
doctor used his hand to manually apply generous amounts of the cream
to every area where the infection had been or might have been.

A tricorder scan confirmed that the doctor had captured and covered
ninety-seven percent of the internally located alien bacteria.  He
completed his scan by running the tricorder over Tom.  There were
traces of the alien bacteria all over Tom's body, everywhere that
hadn't been covered with the doctor's cream.  Fortunately, these
external bacteria were benign, unable to reproduce or survive for long
on Tom's skin.  There was one spot on his thigh that had no residue of
the bacteria at all.  The doctor was puzzled, but filed away the
observation as just another oddity in the Delta Quadrant.  He didn't
remember any cream being applied there, but perhaps some had landed on
Tom's thigh by accident.  Finished with his work, he lowered the drape
and covered Tom's lower body.

"How are you feeling, Lt.?"

"You're finished?"

"Yes.  But I want you to spend the night here to monitor your
situation."

"Doc.  It's Christmas Eve."

"I'm sorry, Lt.  Although it's too soon to expect your fever to drop,
I want you here in case it doesn't."

Harry placed his hand on Tom's cheek and gently stroked his face.  "We
want you well for tomorrow, right?"

"Sure."  Tom closed his eyes and gave in to the soothing feel of
Harry's cool hand on his heated cheek.  Although he hadn't felt
anything, pain or pressure, from the doctor's surgery, he did feel the
exhaustion that thoroughly drained him.

***

An hour later, Tom's fever had spiked dangerously.  Harry was about to
fetch the doctor when the hologram appeared out of his office.  "Doc .
. ."

"I saw the monitor, Ensign.  Let's see what's going on."  The doctor
checked all the monitors and used his medical tricorder to scan Tom.
A visual scan revealed a heat flushed patient verified by the
tricorder readings.  "Temp's at 104.4"

"Isn't that high?"

"Very high.  Particularly in light of the expected decline that so far
has not materialized."

Harry held Tom's hand, noting the clammy feel of his lover's palm.
Tom slept restlessly, bothered by the increased sounds around his bed.

"I don't understand this.  The infection was removed, any of it that
remained should have been killed by the antibacterial cream.
Unfortunately, it appears that the cream no longer is effective
against the bacteria."

"What do the scans show you?" Harry asked, his anxiety showing.

"There's more infection now than there was before the surgery.  Except
for one thing."

"What's that?"

Neither noticed that Tom's eyes were partly open, fever burning
brightly.

"This place on the Lt.'s thigh."  The doctor pulled back the sheet and
pointed to a roughly circular area on the top of Tom's leg.  "There's
no bacteria traces there nor were there any present earlier."

"Merckle," Tom muttered.  "Merckle."

"What's that?" the doctor asked Harry.

"Um, the tiger type of creature on the planet."  Harry turned to Tom,
brushing limp hair from Tom's forehead.  "What about the merckle,
Tom?" "Drooled," Tom told him weakly.

"The tiger drooled on you?  Is that what you're saying, Tom?"

"Yes."  Tom closed his eyes, no longer able to keep them open.  He
shivered, his teeth beginning to chatter as chills shook his body.

The doctor knew he'd spent too many hours patching up the lieutenant
to lose him now, but he wasn't sure what remained to do that might
save the man.  The doctor increased the temperature level of the
biobed to warm up the lieutenant.  That seemed to be about all he
could do for now.  If things became worse, he could give him powerful
pain killers.  Turning to Harry, the doctor asked, "What did the Lt.
mean?"

"About the tiger?  When we were on the surface, Tom was leaning
against me, the tiger was by his side, his head on Tom's leg.  I guess
Tom means the tiger drooled on his leg.  What do you think?"

"As good a hypothesis as any considering the paucity of facts.  If
that's true, then the tiger's drool may have properties that kill the
bacteria completely and thoroughly."  The doctor commed the captain
whose answer sounded sleepy.

"What is it, doctor?"

"Mr. Paris has taken a turn for the worse.  We believe help for him
may be found on the planet in the form of the native who resembles a
tiger.  Apparently, drool from the tiger has killed some of the
bacteria, at least on the surface of the lieutenant's skin."

There was silence from the captain.  At length, her voice could be
heard saying, "Very well, inform Commander Tuvok and we'll beam down
in ten minutes.  Meet us in the transporter room."

Harry was torn between going to the planet and staying with Tom.  But
when it came down to it, Harry couldn't leave Tom's side.  His lover
was still shivering, although the adjustments to the biobed seemed to
be helping. Harry told the doctor, "Don't be gone long."

"I won't, Ensign."   The doctor turned to the very sick pilot and
asked him if he wanted any pain killers.  Through chattering teeth,
Tom managed to say no.  He wanted to stay clear headed as long as
possible. Taking a few last scans, the doctor reassured the anxious
young man standing by his patient's side.  "I'll be back before you
know it."

The doctor carefully didn't voice any false promises.  From his own
tests, he knew that unless this merckle had a bug killer handy, the
lieutenant was going to die, perhaps in less than an hour.

***

Janeway, the doctor, Tuvok, and two security officers beamed down to
the dark, empty meadow where earlier there had been over a hundred of
the crew.  With only the light from a half moon to light the planet's
surface, the scene of the festivities hours earlier now seemed like a
desolate, abandoned place.  The decorated trees still stood, the
tables remained in place, but the absence of people gave it the
appearance of a ghostly village.

There were no signs of the native creatures.   In pairs, the landing
party fanned out hoping to locate one of the inhabitants.

***

On Voyager, Harry kept up his vigil by Tom's side.  Although he
couldn't read and understand all of the instruments, he could
determine that Tom's temperature was raging.  The shivering had been
replaced by a dry, penetrating heat that left his lover limp,
unnaturally flushed, and moaning.  The doctor had shown him how to
lower the biobed's heat setting and Harry did that, hoping that a
little external cooling would help his desperately sick friend.
Fevered eyes opened wide, fear clearly shining in Tom's face.  "Harry?
Harry?"

Harry couldn't believe how weakly his lover's voice had called his
name.  "I'm right here, Tom," Harry reassured him, holding Tom's
burning hands together in his own cooler ones, careful not to tangle
the IV line going to one of Tom's hands.  "Can I get you anything?"

"Thirsty," Tom mumbled.

The normally blue eyes were dulled now by the fever, the face that
could smile so beautifully was tight and drawn.  It hurt to see Tom
looking this sick.  "I'll be right with you."

Although he was reluctant to leave Tom, Harry felt it best to give the
sick man some water, especially since he'd asked for it.  Returning
with a glass of water with a straw in it, Harry held the glass with
one hand and with his other arm, boosted Tom's head up to where he
could sip from the straw. He couldn't get over how hot to the touch
Tom's skin felt.  Tom took a few sips and indicated he was done.
Harry eased his head back on to the bed. "Better?"

"Harry?"

"Sweetheart?  What do you need?"

Tom's voice came out a weak whisper.  "No regrets, Har.  I love you.
Thank you."

"What?  What are you saying?  Tom?"  Harry bent close to Tom's face,
able to feel the radiant heat that suffused Tom's entire body.

If anything, Tom thought he probably felt worse than he looked.  The
infection was like a hot poker that had visited his gut and decided to
stay.  He felt as if his whole groin was filled with it, he could feel
a hot substance leaking from his rectum.  It could be the cream, it
could be something else, something like the suppurating infection
inside him.  Knowing he didn't have much time left, Tom wanted to say
good-bye to Harry. Tears even hotter than his skin spilled from his
eyes, "Har.  I'm going. I'm sorry.  You've been . . . everything to
me.  I love you so much."

"No, Tom.  Hang on, sweetheart.  The doctor's down on the surface now.
He's trying to get a cure.  I know he'll succeed, I know it.  You've
just got to hang on."

Tom grimaced, the fever making his joints ache with an internal pain
that he couldn't will away.  "It's all right, Harry.  You . . .you
find someone . . . after . . . promise me?"

Tom shuddered from the deeply painful infection in his body and the
temperature that now soared higher than he could ever have imagined.
He was unable to suppress the groan that escaped from his mouth and
his fingers gripped Harry's hand with what little strength he had
left.

"Tom.  Stay with me, love, please.  Stay with me.  I need you," Harry
told him, matching tears streaming from his own eyes.  "I love you so
much."

Hearing those words, Tom smiled weakly.  He never thought he would die
loved by anyone.  But here was Harry, his lovely dark Harry, his
rescuer from loneliness and self-hatred, telling him he loved him.
Tears ran unchecked down his burning cheeks.  He had to give Harry one
last gift, just as Harry had given him so much.  "I will be your
angel, Harry, any time . . . any where . . ."

"Oh, gods, Tom, no, stay . . . please stay . . ."  Harry pressed Tom's
hands to his mouth, kissing the heated digits one by one as if this
act would keep Tom tethered to the world of Voyager, to the sickbay,
to the biobed, and most of all, to Harry, where Tom's lonely and
battered spirit belonged.

But Harry realized that nothing he could do or say was going to halt
the inexorable sequelae of the alien bacteria.  It was killing Tom.
He knew Tom had only minutes left.  "I love you, Tom," he whispered
against the burning tide ravaging his lover's body.  "I love you, I
love you."

Tom heard Harry's words, wanted to say more, couldn't.  He was too
weak, his systems were checking out one by one.  His eyes shut, the
pain began to leave him, and he hoped that if there were any gods at
all that they would have mercy on him, that they would judge him by
what he had tried to become, not by what he had been.  Most of all he
hoped that he would be able to keep his promise to Harry to come back
as Harry's angel.

***

It was late on Christmas Day and Harry slept in Tom's bed, exhausted
by the long ordeal in sickbay.  He stirred in his sleep, felt currents
of air brush across his tired body, fought to stay asleep, couldn't.
He opened his eyes wondering what strange events could be disturbing
the air in the cabin.

"Hey," a soft voice told him.  It sounded like Tom.

Harry struggled to fully awaken.  He sat up and couldn't help but
smile at the vision standing a few feet away towards the foot of the
bed.  It looked like Tom, tall, sandy haired, long legs, a dazzling
grin on a pale face.

"Hey," the vision said again and twirled around.  "How do I look?"

Breathtaking, thought Harry.  The vision wore a draping, lustrous
white robe of smooth silk, open to the waist over a hairless chest.  A
silk sash held the two sides of the robe together at the slender
waist, then the robe fell away to the sides, revealing slim hips, a
hairless groin, a pink semi-erect penis and heavy, clean shaven pink
toned sacs between the legs.  Those legs were spread ever so slightly
apart, bare all the way down to the long feet that anchored the vision
to the deck floor.

As the vision turned all the way around, the robe swirled outwards
flying away and back.  Barely revealed were smooth white buttocks as
the robe swung away from the body and then back again, settling in
place when Tom stopped turning.  A very huge grin appeared on Tom's
face.  "Well?" he demanded.

"You are an angel," Harry told him seriously.  "A very beautiful
angel.  My beautiful angel.  Come here."

If at all possible, the grin widened.  Tom picked up something on the
end of the bed and stepped like a flowing apparition in the dim cabin
light to where Harry sat on the bed, his back leaning against the
headboard.

"You're beautiful," Harry whispered.

The apparition leaned down and kissed Harry on the lips, its lips warm
and vibrant, its tongue exploring inside Harry's mouth.  One hand
stroked Harry's raven fall of gleaming hair, the other placed the
object on the bed by one of Harry's hands.  Breaking the kiss finally,
Harry picked up the object and held it up.  "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" the vision asked impudently.

"It looks like a hairbrush."

The vision beamed at him.

"Tom . . . Tom . . . uh . . . you know I like doing this, but you just
got out of sickbay . . . uh . . ."

"Six hours ago, Harry.  I'm fine.  The merckle's drool, gross as that
sounds, was all I needed to get rid of that damned infection."  Tom
twirled again, knowing the effect his barely concealed body was having
on his lover.

Tom raised the skirt of the robe to Harry's face, rubbing the soft,
sueded silk against his lover's face.   "I need you now, love," Tom
purred.  "I need the sex, the heat, the surrender.  I'm yours, Harry.
This is your Christmas gift.  I'm your angel."

Harry barely breathed, "Yes."

Tom's grin broke the spell that his words had worked.  "Well, until I
act like Tom Paris again."

Harry laughed at his irrepressible lover.  "You are acting like Tom
Paris, right at this very instant.  You have no idea how glad I am to
have you back."

"Show me," Tom dared.  He danced back a few steps from the bed while
one handedly pulling Harry off the bed.   "Undress your present,
Harry, and show me."

With a groan of pleasure, Harry advanced to his lover and placed his
hands on Tom's shoulders.  He leaned up and kissed those lips that now
were a healthy, moist pink.  He embraced the man who he had almost
lost such a short time before.  His hands went around Tom's shoulders
and gripped his back.  He rubbed the silky fabric of the robe,
enjoying the smooth, soft properties of the glowing material.

Thoroughly kissing Tom's mouth, he slid his hands down Tom's back to
the sweet rise of his bottom, cupping both cheeks, kneading the
muscles through the silky second skin.  He felt Tom's hands at their
waists.  Tom loosened the belt and the robe flowed open.  Taking full
advantage of this new arrangement, Harry's hands went under the fabric
and once more found those  muscled ass cheeks, this time working them
skin on skin.

He broke off their kiss long enough to breathe, to tell Tom how much
he loved him.  He brought up one hand to cup Tom's face, to run his
thumb along Tom's jaw line, along his straight nose, to fondle the
cleft between his mouth and nose.  All the while, he breathed both his
love and his tongue into Tom's ear.  Tom began to make those soft
moaning noises that told Harry he liked what was being done to his
face, to his body.  The hand at Tom's ass ran itself smoothly up and
down the satiny mounded skin, a thumb brushing in and out of the
mysteriously heated canyon that separated the cheeks.  A throbbing
monument poked itself against Harry's waist and Harry began to
maneuver Tom to the bed.

Harry sat down with Tom standing almost gasping in front of him, the
robe a silken raiment on his tall frame.  Harry knew what Tom wanted,
needed, after all Tom had come to him bearing both the devil and the
angel that represented at least two sides of his resurrected lover.
He pulled Tom down across his lap and smoothed the robe over Tom,
marveling at the way the silk molded itself to Tom's body, outlining
his long back, presenting his rounded buttocks, wrapping itself
whitely around his slender legs.  As if in synch with each other, both
groaned simultaneously.

Harry's erection strained against his shorts, but it was too late to
pull them off.  Harry released his cock, hoped that would be enough
for now and gazed lovingly at the sight of his lover's submission
across his lap.  Sensory nirvana, thought Harry as he picked up the
hairbrush.  He brushed  it against Tom's bottom, wrinkling the silk.
With his hand, he smoothed the robe back into place, then hefted the
hairbrush high.  He brought it down hard knowing nothing less would
satisfy his lover.  And, being truthful to himself, he brought it down
hard to deal with the fear and pain he'd had when he thought he'd lost
Tom.  "Don't ever leave me again, Tom." He smacked the hairbrush once
more on the other cheek.  Tom gasped out loud and his body  bounced at
the welcome pain that flowed through him like boiling rapids in a
narrow canyon.

After Harry brought the back of the hairbrush down swiftly six times,
the slapping sounds reverberated in the cabin.  He decorated each ass
cheek in three separate places, then stopped for a moment.  Harry
swept the robe aside and revealed Tom's alabaster body marked only by
the pink residue of the hairbrush strokes.  "I can't lose you, Tom."

Harry smacked Tom's bare ass and the tops of his thighs until the pink
turned to red and the red to almost purple.  The hard whacks of the
hairbrush, Tom's moans and cries, all these sounds filled the cabin.
When the tenor of Tom's sounds changed to broken sobs, Harry stopped,
placed the hairbrush on the floor and rubbed his hands in a soothing
pattern on Tom's unmarked back.  He could feel Tom's erection like a
rigid hammer against his own thigh and knew from Tom's movements that
his lover needed greater contact, needed penetration to his core.

He lubed up his hand, pulled those flaming ass cheeks apart, and
smiled at the surprise Tom had for him there.  A generously sized butt
plug was squeezed in place by the apple colored pucker.  As he rimmed
the plug with  his lube slicked finger, the anus stretched easily for
that roaming finger. Experimenting a little, Harry wondered how much
wider that anus would stretch.  He knew it had opened for his whole
hand earlier and he pushed in three fingers between the plug and the
anus.

From Tom's moans of pleasure, this time Harry knew his lover was
getting off on the exquisite widening of this muscle to his inner
chamber.  It felt so powerful and wonderful at the same time to have
Tom laid across his lap with Harry's own hand in his lover's ass
giving pleasure.  He eased the butt plug out and resumed his
attentions to Tom's anus.  Although Harry knew that Tom was prepared
enough to allow entrance to his cock, still his lover conveyed through
his motions on Harry's lap that he wanted more stimulation and more
stretching first.

Harry applied additional lube to his hand and then thrust four fingers
into that dark canyon sensing only token resistence.  His thumb
trailed outside, massaging the perineum.   Tom moaned and gyrated his
hips wildly around Harry's insistent presence.  Harry pulled his thumb
back to the anal opening and added it to the group already at home
there.  Harry let the part of his hand still outside move flush with
the opening, pressing and pressing until the hand disappeared inside
that now very tight channel.  He lubed up the opening around his
wrist, first one way and then the other, until his wrist slid easily,
deeper and deeper inside his lover's body.  Tom's cries were like the
chirps of chicks welcoming home the one who belonged there.

Tom's ramrod cock grew even harder against Harry's thigh as Harry's
hand penetrated deeply inside that crimson ass.  Not yet lost himself
in the hand fucking of his lover, Harry sensed that it was time for a
shift.  He pulled his hand out, feeling the suction of the anus
finally letting go as the third knuckles widened it as far open as it
had ever been and then they popped out.  Tom cried as a bereft
emptiness left him with only the burning of his ass to let him know
where he was.

Harry moved out from under Tom and let Tom's whole body rest on the
bed.  He pulled off the robe that still encased Tom's arms and
shoulders and swished it across Tom's back and reddened backside in a
sensuous rhythm that set Tom's body to moving to his beat.  Harry
pushed down his shorts and let the robe and shorts drop
simultaneously.

Harry covered his cock with lube and knelt on the bed between Tom's
almost closed legs.  With his arms he moved Tom's bottom upward,
leaving Tom's head down on the bed resting on his forearms.  He pushed
Tom's thighs apart with his hands, positioning Tom's knees as far
apart as they could go without toppling the other man.  Looking down
at the placement of his  lover, Harry saw Tom bent over, his beautiful
red ass the highest part of his body.  He took in the closed-eye bliss
on Tom's features and knew he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

His hands parted the dark cheeks, earning a hiss from Tom, then he
pressed his full, hard cock to the waiting entrance to paradise.  Tom
thrust back at him and impaled himself on Harry's cock.  Harry did the
rest and worked himself deeper inside, sliding down that welcoming
channel, coming home.  He pulled back, almost to the head of his cock.
As he did, he landed ever so light, cool kisses on Tom's burning ass
cheeks.  He sent one hand under Tom to play across that smooth chest,
to find and flick against the hardening nipples he found there.
Setting up an easy rhythm, Harry moved in and out, gently making love
to his angel.  By the tenor of Tom's moans he knew it was time to
increase the tempo.

Harry sped up and increased the intensity.  He slammed into Tom's
backside, burying himself so deeply he almost thought his balls would
disappear down  that hot channel.  He pulled back and slammed in
again, hearing the satisfying slap of his balls against Tom's bottom.
He kept it up, going faster and harder, faster and harder, then he
felt Tom's cock pulse against his hand, felt the hot cum splash out
and over Tom's chest, felt the internal muscles clench and pulse
themselves against his engorged cock.  He purted deep, hot and long
inside his lover, falling against Tom's reddened ass.  They both
collapsed onto the bed, Harry on Tom, still buried inside, a residual
twitch indicating that somehow his cock yet lived.

Tom found something that resembled his voice.  He turned his head
toward the direction of Harry's face caught between his shoulder and
neck.  "I love you, Harry.  Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah."

"I love you, too, angel."  As his softened cock slid out, Harry rolled
to the side of his sated lover.  He kissed Tom gently on the lips.
"Thank you for coming back to me."

Tom's eyes blurred with tears.  "You wanted me.  How could I leave the
only person in the universe who actually wanted me?"  He kissed Harry
back. Although craving a post-coital nap, Tom managed to ask, "We're
going to be all right?"

"Yes, love.   I will be so careful of you," Harry announced with a
fierceness that surprised Tom.

"Hey, I won't break."

"And I won't break you."  Harry kissed each blurry blue eye.  "You're
the best Christmas present I've ever had."

As they both began to let themselves slide into the sleep that rapidly
began to claim them, Tom heard Harry whisper, "My angel."

Tom grinned, happy that he was able to be the corporeal angel of
Harry's dreams.  He was happy with how he felt: warmed, filled, and
loved.  Of them all, Tom cherished the knowledge that he was loved by
this most beautiful of men, his Harry.  For this man he would indeed
be an angel, any time, any place.

---

The End

---

Author's note: I placed the holidays of Christmas and Hanukkah
together for this story.  I think that by the 24th century we will
know that celebrating  different religious traditions enriches each
and diminishes none.

The traditional song "Friendly Beasts" can be heard on Garth Brooks
Christmas CD, Beyond the Season.