The BLTS Archive - Power Games
by J.S. Moreau

---

Glory and praise to Paramount, the wise, the merciful. There
is only one Star Trek Universe and Paramount is its prophet.
I do not wish to trespass upon the temple of Paramount's
glory, but simply to grovel forth on my knees and lay--?--my
offerings upon their altar. (Yes, yes, please, please, the
altar, the steps, behind the bushes. Anywhere. Anytime.)

If you copy or distribute this, please keep the copyright
notice on and don't charge money for it. (The story, silly.)

THIS IS AN ADULT STORY. And no, that doesn't mean it
concerns the budget deficit or nuclear physics. IT DEALS
WITH SEX BETWEEN TWO CONSENTING ADULTS (P/K) WHO AT THE TIME
HAPPEN TO BE MALE. It's also NC-17 for mild, (very mild)
b&d. You could, technically, say it includes non-consensual
sex. If you are under eighteen, susceptible to climbing on a
moral high horse, or otherwise legally/morally/vocationally
unfit to read this, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? Oh, it also
contains a lot of gooey sentiment and (needless to say) this
is a parallel universe, etc., etc. so anything that goes
beyond the characters and technobabble and doesn't accord
with the series is just where my fancy got carried away.
Apologies to the purists who can't live with that.

If the relationship, (at least part of it) is a departure
from the other P/K stories, I have a perfectly good answer.
Remember the Parade insert in the Sunday paper a couple of
months back, where they had the Voyager crew pose with
computer equipment?... yeah, that's right. It made me do it.
I still can't get the idea of Harry in black leather out of
my mind. (But then, who wants to?)

And now--Let the games begin!

©1997

---

Tom didn't know why his heart tightened when he came into
Sandrine's and glimpsed Harry sitting at a table, across
from Crewman James Freumann. Or rather, he knew all too well
why his heart tightened, but the part of him that was
conscious of his thoughts refused to recognize the voice of
reason.

James Freumann was one of the best looking men in the ship.
And there was Harry, with him. They leaned forward across
the table, so that their heads were close together, and they
spoke intently about something or other.

_If I weren't so sure Harry is straight and that's why I've
had no luck at all with him, I'd be tearing my hair out in a
jealous fit just about now._ Tom thought as he walked
through the narrow labyrinth between tables.

His certainty of Harry's orientation was somewhat rocked,
though not destroyed, by the words he heard as he
approached.

"You know," Harry said, speaking in loud, clear syllables to
be heard over the mournful Jazz music playing in the
background. "I have to agree with you. Whether we ever find
our way back to Earth or not, we have to make our lives
here, now, with the people aboard the ship."

Crewman Freumann nodded at that, but his reply -- whatever
it would be -- was cut short as Tom loomed over them. James
Freumann looked up and smiled, giving Tom the full benefit
of his indecently handsome features, then said, "I have to
be on duty in twenty seconds." And got up, practically
running out of Sandrine's.

"What was that all about?" Tom asked, falling on the still
warm chair while wondering exactly how he'd look without any
hair, because it sure looked like time to start tearing it
out.

"Uh?" Though Harry had been staring right at Tom, he seemed
to be having trouble understanding what Tom had said. Which
considering the music was probably not a surprise.

"I said, what was that all about?" Tom repeated, screaming.

Harry shrugged, as though he couldn't be expected to know.
He had a frosted glass of something clear in front of him,
and ran his finger around the rim of the glass for a while,
in silence.

_So, I see I'm not wanted,_ Tom thought, but before he could
make an excuse and dart away, Harry looked up and gave him
the full benefit of his dark, soulful eyes.

_Eyes you could drown in. If only he'd let me._ Tom thought.
_And not run screaming into the night at the first signs
that his good friend Tom Paris thinks of him as quite a bit
more than a good friend._ "Tom, I-- I wanted to ask you for
advice," Harry said.

"My-- advice?"

"Uh... yeah. I have this friend--"

_Oh, Harry, please, don't. Oldest trick in the book._ But
Tom nodded sympathetically. "So, you have a friend, and--"
"He's in love with someone."

"Happens to a lot of friends." _Who is it? B'Elanna? Or is
this just a rehash of how much he misses Libby?_

Harry blushed looked away. "Well, yeah, but see, my friend
is in love with a... uh... in love with another man."

_Oh, shit. James Freumann. And I let it happen. I could have
spoken. I should have spoken. All those times I thought he
was flirting with me. But I let it go and now he has someone
else._ "And? Surely that's not a problem. I mean, I know
some worlds are sticky about stuff like that, but the
Federation recognizes same sex marriages."

Harry tipped back the rest of his drink, put his glass down,
then said, "Well, see, the man I-- the man he loves... the
man he loves is straight, though."

"Uh?"

"My friend. He's in love with a straight man."

"Sounds like your friend is a masochist, Harry." _Yes. Yes.
James turned him down. Maybe I can catch him on the rebound.
Oh, please, please, please._

Harry, his face so red that he looked feverish, linked his
hands on the table top, then stared down at them. "You mean
that there's no hope," he said, in a whisper.

"Uh," Tom said, hating to hurt him. "I'd say there's very
little. I mean, if this man is an adult who has always been
heterosexual, I'd say the chances of his being interested in
your friend are fairly slim."

Harry looked up for a moment, then back down again. "So, I
should give it up, uh?" he asked, dropping pretense.

Tom patted him on the shoulder. "I'd say you should."

"But... oh, Tom, it's so hard. I mean, I think about him all
the time. And he seems to like me, he looks like he really,
really does care. I mean, he seems to flirt with me all the
time."

Tom took a deep breath. He wanted to wrap Harry in is arms
and soothe away any and all distress. He wanted Harry to
know he was loved. But his experience was that you didn't
push it in a situation like this. You played it cool. You
thought it over. You gave the other person time to come
around and think they wanted you, not that you were pushing
yourself on them.

"So, Tom," Harry asked, his voice small and mechanical. "Are
you going to get married? Megan says you two have been
getting really serious."

Tom didn't really hear what Harry had said. He'd been
mulling over his own feelings for Harry. Since the question
had the feeling of being more parenthetical than a real
query, Tom muttered, "Yeah, sure," turned on his glib smile
and touched Harry on the shoulder. "Go to your quarters,
have a cold shower and a warm drink and go to sleep. You'll
feel much better tomorrow, you'll see." And, fighting every
impulse to glance backward, Tom walked up to the pool table
and challenged Megan Delaney to a game.

If he hadn't been so successful in not looking backwards,
he'd have seen how Harry's longing gaze followed him. And he
would have noticed how, after a few minutes, Harry sighed
and headed out the door.

Harry walked out of Sandrine's with a heavy heart. That
casual, "Yeah, sure," of Tom's sounded as if he'd never even
considered not marrying Megan.

_I should have talked sooner,_ Harry thought. _Or kept my
mouth shut. I wonder if Tom knows what I meant, what I was
really talking about._ He sighed. _Heck, of course he does.
Has to. I mean my friend, really._

"Harry, what's wrong?" B'Elanna's voice.

Harry looked up. B'Elanna was standing by the door to the
turbo lift, staring at him.

"Nothing is wrong. I-- I must be coming down with a cold or
something."

"Or something," B'Elanna agreed, her eyes examining Harry
intently. "So, how's Tom doing?"

_God, had he been that transparent?_ "What? Why?"

B'Elanna took a step back, surprised. "Tom, you know, your
best friend? I just haven't seen him in a while and wondered
how he's doing." She frowned. "Harry, why did you blush when
I mentioned Tom?"

Harry groaned. If this went on, he'd manage to humiliate
himself in front of each crew member. He didn't want to
explain why Tom made him blush, but he also didn't want to
let the opportunity go. If Tom had talked to someone --
other than Harry -- about any marriage plans, then that
someone would have been B'Elanna, right?

Harry looked up and down the corridor, found it deserted,
moved closer to B'Elanna and said, "B'Elanna, do you think
Tom is going to marry Megan soon?"

"What? Megan Delaney? Why would Tom marry her?"

"I heard her say that Tom and her were getting more and more
serious and she needs to talk to him about plans for the
future. And I asked him about it and he said, yeah sure."

B'Elanna frowned. Then her eyes opened wide. "Was that just
now?"

Harry nodded. Figuring the cat was out of the bag, he added,
"And I don't know what to do."

An impish smile formed on B'Elanna's lips. "So that's the
problem, is it Harry? Tell auntie B'Elanna's broken heart
advisory the truth and I'll tell you how I'd go about
seducing Tom Paris."

---

Tom walked out of Sandrine's, with nothing much on his mind,
except a vague speculation about what he could do with the
next day -- his day off.

Megan had given him a chilly turn-down. He had no idea why,
but also didn't feel like investigating. He had the
uncomfortable feeling that the whole thing was an attempt to
get him into a heart-to-heart talk and that once that
heart-to-heart started the c word would make an appearance.
As if Tom could ever make a commitment. As if anyone
expected him to. And to one of the Delaneys, yet.

The next moment, there was an arm around his neck, right
over his Adam's apple, pulling him backwards and down.

The lieutenant had time to register that the arm was clad in
black leather and that it was probably male.

"Back into the turbo-lift," a voice whispered. "And don't
make a move."

The voice was very familiar, even in a whisper.

"What? Harry, how do you expect me not to make a move and
get in the turbo lift?"

"Humor me," Harry replied, in a voice that hinted at nothing
humorous.

Despite being sure that this was some sort of a joke, Tom
felt a chill run down his spine. He allowed Harry to lead
him backwards into the turbo lift, wondering what he would
say if someone came up. _ahem, just practicing our Klingon
greetings_ might do. Unless the someone was B'Elanna, in
which case she'd rip off their heads and beat them to death
with them. Or maybe B'Elanna would be polite and shy. Maybe
this was personality exchange day or something. He chuckled
under his breath at the idea. Harry's grip tightened.

"I don't think I gave you permission to laugh."

Tom blinked. "Permission to breathe?" he asked, hoping to
get a chuckle out of his captor.

There was a silence. "You can earn it."

Tom swallowed. _Permission to wet my pants,_ he thought.
What had come over Harry, anyway? This being the Delta
quadrant, it was probably another of those aliens took over
my body incidents. And Tom had a feeling he wouldn't like
it. He wanted to touch his com badge, but feared that by the
time help arrived he wouldn't be in any state to tell them
anything. The way Harry was pulling on his neck, Harry
wasn't worried about hurting Tom.

Tom felt sweat form on his forehead and took deep breaths.
_Go easy, Tommy boy. Just go easy. Help will come sooner or
later._

With Harry's arm pressing on his neck, making it hard to
breathe, he thought, _let it be sooner._ They got out of the
turbo lift, and walked to Harry's quarters, with Tom still
in the awkward bent-back- and-barely-breathing position. Tom
kept hoping someone would show up, someone would ask what
was happening. Nothing happened.

They entered Harry's quarters and Harry let go of Tom's
neck, at the same time pulling Tom's com badge off his
uniform, in a single, swift gesture.

"Privacy lock," Harry said.

Tom's eyes widened.

Harry stood in front of him, wearing-- Tom bit his lip to
keep from asking _is that real leather?_ -- tight black
pants and a loose black leather-like jacket that left his
chest exposed. Scared though he was, Tom noticed that the
chest was broad, muscular and hairless, with two very small,
brown nipples. The twitch in his pants made him look away,
at Harry's face.

Despite the getup, when Tom looked into Harry's eyes, he
still saw, pretty much,Harry. A pretty upset Harry. Or was
it really upset? Was there something very much like
amusement there too? And-- A twinge of excitement coursed
through Tom, as his gaze went lower to meet the bulge in
Harry's pants. Oh, oh. If this was an alien, it was one of
those aliens that ancient nuts dreamed up, the ones who
supposedly took earthlings up in their spaceships for
whoopee.

Harry cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Paris, you've been
playing games for way too long. You flirt with everyone in
the ship, myself included, but you never really carry
anything through, do you?" Harry walked around Tom, slowly,
looking at Tom as though he were an alien artifact that must
be carefully inspected. Harry stopped in front of Tom, put
both hands behind his back and looked up to meet Tom's eyes.
He frowned.

"At least you fool around with some people, which puts them
in a much better position than myself, because you don't
even fool around with me. You just flirt." He spat the last
word. "Well, Lieutenant Paris, I am about to fix that." A
slight pause. "Strip."

Tom took a deep breath. This had gone way too far. He had no
idea what had come over Harry. He was fairly sure it was
Harry, though, and not anyone else, because the look in his
eyes was definitely Harry's. But if this was Harry, this had
to be an elaborate joke. Had to.

"Funny," Tom said. "Very funny. What am I supposed to do?
Undress and then a crowd comes out of your bathroom and
yells surprise."

Harry shook his head, crossed his leather-clad arms over his
bare chest. "Strip."

"No. Come off it." If this wasn't a joke, then it was
temporary insanity and when Harry came out of it, he was
going to be pretty upset and embarrassed.

Harry's eyebrows rose. "All right. So that's how you want to
play it, is it? Very well." He grinned and backed up,
towards his closet. "I will now change clothes, run up to
the captain and tell her you made unwanted sexual advances
on me." Harry's expression changed to one of horror, and his
voice acquired very convincingly scared overtones as he
threw his closet door open. "I was just in my quarters,
captain, when Lieutenant Paris came in and he started
attempting to kiss me, and he tore at my clothes." Harry
lifted a very convincingly torn-up shirt from a hanger.

"You wouldn't do that," Tom said, earnestly shocked,
earnestly scared. Harry was prepared to pretend Tom had
tried to rape him? It had to be a joke.

"Really? Do you want to bet?" Harry hissed. "How would your
not-so- brilliant record look with a charge of sexual
assault on it? What are the chances the Fleet would ever let
you back in, then?"

Tom closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. "You're my
friend," he protested. "My best friend."

"Maybe I am," Harry said. "But I'm also sick and tired of
your being a flirt and of having to listen to detailed
accounts of your exploits with various women when I want you
too. Now, strip."

His hands trembling, Tom could barely unbutton his shirt,
and it took him forever, with Harry standing there, glaring
at him, to unzip the Jeans he'd worn to Sandrine's. He
dropped them to the floor, and then, of course, had a hell
of a time taking his shoes and socks off over the roll of
his pants around his ankles.

He heard Harry chuckle and looked up just in time to see a
smile vanish from Harry's face. So, Harry could still be
amused, could he? Feeling as though he was living through an
absurd dream, Tom finally pulled his clothes and shoes off,
all in a big mess, and looked up again.

"Your underwear, Lieutenant," Harry said. "And I'd never
have guessed at boxers." Tom pulled his underwear off,
surprised to notice he was half erect.

Harry had sat on his sofa. He looked up and down Tom,
smiled, and said, "It will do. On your knees."

Tom obeyed.

"Come here," Harry said.

Tom started to get up, to cross the five feet between them,
but before he was fully on his feet, Harry growled again,
"On your knees, Lieutenant."

Tom dropped to his knees, and scooted across the space
between them, feeling his face burn with humiliation and at
the same time expecting Harry to start laughing any minute
now.

"Open my fly," Harry said.

Tom obeyed. And gasped. Harry wore no underwear. Tom had
thought that Harry must be fully hard, judging from the
bulge in the front of the leather pants. He'd been wrong.
Harry was, at best, semi-erect, but in this state his dick
looked larger than Tom's full erection.

"You know what to do," Harry said.

Tom did, although for that he must acknowledge his debt to a
bunch of convicts down New Zealand way. He put his head
down, started licking at the tip of Harry's dick.

Harry gasped and his hands flew to either side of his body,
as if for support. His dick pulsed and grew by at least an
inch.

Encouraged by the reaction and feeling a pulse in his own
erection, Tom slid a hand into Harry's pants and cupped
Harry's balls, then tickled them, all while he continued to
suck on the rapidly-growing dick in his mouth.

His mind did double duty, also, wondering why he was getting
an erection from doing this, why the fact that Harry kept
growing and the groans that escaped from Harry's lips
excited him to such an extent. He'd never got excited while
servicing convicts, so why was he getting all hot and
bothered now over being forced to give head to his best
friend?

A part of his mind that he refused to acknowledge insisted
because you didn't want any of those guys, but you do want
Harry. At least as badly as he wants you. Maybe worse. He
sucked harder, pulled back to admire his work. Fully erect,
(at least Tom hoped Harry was fully erect) Harry was at
least twelve inches long and as thick around as Tom's wrist.
_who'd have thought he was hiding that under that ensign's
uniform_ Tom thought.

He ran a hand up and down the monster, then put his mouth
down to the tip again, and began the very serious work of
attempting to deep throat the largest cock he'd ever come
across. He pushed down on it, trying to suppress his gag
reflex. Halfway through, the gag reflex threw a fit of
rebellion and Tom choked and would have coughed, except for
the very large object lodged in his throat. His eyes filled
with tears, as he fought to control his breathing.

"Tom?" Harry asked, concerned, his hands flying to either
side of Tom's head, his head coming down, as though he meant
to take an up- close look at Tom. "Are you all right?"

_At least I'm Tom again_ Tom thought. _Not Lieutenant. Must
be doing something right._ The wave of pride that followed
this thought made it easier for him to get over his fit. As
an answer to Harry, he pushed forward, plunging another inch
of Harry's hot meat down his throat.

Harry groaned. His hands remained on the side of Tom's head,
but his body relaxed, till he was leaning against the back
of the sofa. "Oh, yes, Tom, yes baby."

_Baby? I definitely am doing something right_ His hand
continued kneading Harry's balls, while his mouth worked its
way down the huge cock. He'd never thought he'd be able to
sink the whole thing in his throat, so he was shocked when
he found his nose nestled against a soft, black pubic nest.
It smelled good, too, pure male arousal with a faint trace
of soap and the smell of the leather that had confined it.
Tom heard himself moan.

Harry's hands held on to Tom's head, and now Harry began a
pumping action upward in Tom's mouth, rocking a couple of
inches in and out each time, muttering endearments. "Oh,
yes, baby, yes. Oh, you feel so good. Your mouth feels so
good. Oh, baby, you're a great cocksucker."

And Tom felt ridiculously complimented, and moaned in unison
with Harry, while his hands still played with Harry's balls.
Harry plunged down into his throat once more, and held, and
started spurting.

Tom could feel him spurting, and attempted to get him out
enough that he could taste Harry's seed. He felt just then
that if he could only taste Harry, he would come with no
need to touch his own dick. Harry had been in so deeply that
it took Tom forever to get him so that his cockhead rested
on Tom's tongue. And Tom had to fight against the pressure
of Harry's hands that attempted to keep Tom's mouth down
around the root of Harry's cock.

But when he did manage to catch a salty-sweet spurt on his
tongue, he did come. Despite the pressure of Harry's hands
on his head, despite the fact that he hadn't so much as
touched his own cock, Tom felt a whole body spasm and,
looking down, found himself shooting on Harry's carpet.

When his head cleared, Harry had pulled out of his mouth.
One last, weak spurt of Harry's come caught Tom full in the
face. He didn't have enough strength to reach up and wipe
it, just sat back on his ankles, taking deep, hard breaths.
Looking at Harry. Tom thought how beautiful Harry looked,
covered in sweat, taking those deep, body- wrenching
breaths.

"You've messed the carpet," Harry said. "Clean it." Tom got
up, went into the bathroom and came back with tissue.

As he cleaned the sticky stuff from the carpet he thought
_well, at least he's not making me lick it. I probably would
have got a hairball. Try and explain that to the doctor. I'd
probably be put on medical leave for having a need to eat
synthetic materials, or something like that._

"Very good, lieutenant," Harry said.

_So, it's back to lieutenant, is it? Ah, well, it was good
while it lasted._

"Now get up, go to the bed and lie down on your back,
lieutenant."

_On my back,_ Tom thought. _Just as well. Much more exertion
and I'm going to pass out._ He lay down on his back.

Harry got up, zipped his fly, came over. "You're a good
cocksucker, Lieutenant," he said.

Tom wondered if an answer was expected from him, decided it
probably wasn't.

"From now on, and until I tell you you can go, you'll be my
sex slave," Harry said. "Do you understand?"

Tom nodded. He understood this part very well indeed. Been
there, done that, bought the jumpsuit, signed the guest
book. Though not with anyone as attractive as Harry.

"We're here for my pleasure, not yours," Harry said. "And
anything you do to me or I do to you, is done for my
amusement. All my orders will be obeyed immediately, without
hesitation."

Tom nodded. "And if I determine you're to be punished, for
something or for nothing at all, it is not for you to argue
with my decision. Do you understand, Lieutenant?"

Tom looked up at Harry, who towered over him, took in the
leather jacket, the leather pants, Harry's flashing eyes. He
nodded, meekly, wondering why he was getting an erection
again.

"If you refuse to follow the rules, I'll accuse you of
sexual harassment. You can feel free to accuse me of rape at
that time. Who do you think they'll believe?"

Tom didn't think that needed an answer. They'd believe
Harry, hands down. Hell, a few hours ago, Tom himself would
have believed Harry, hands down. Even now, he wasn't sure
this was happening. He knew very well that if he even
mentioned Harry and Harry raping someone in the same
sentence on the bridge, everyone would melt in helpless
laughter. Even Tuvok.

"Close your eyes," Harry said. "Don't open them until I say
you can."

Tom closed his eyes. For what seemed like eternity nothing
happened. Then he felt a touch, fingers on his right nipple,
lips on his left. Very gentle fingers and lips, rubbing,
sucking, licking at Tom's sensitive flesh. Tom wanted to
open his eyes to see Harry doing this, but he didn't have
the nerve. He didn't think--he couldn't bring himself to
thinking--that Harry was serious about accusing him of
attempted rape, but damn him if he tested it.

Just when Tom's nipples were so erect that they'd started to
hurt, the fingers moved on, tracing a path of their own,
downwards, while the lips moved upwards, up Tom's neck, to
his chin, where they nuzzled the blond stubble. Then they
planted themselves full on Tom's lips, and a tongue came
out, to touch Tom's tongue, meet it, envelope it.

Tom heard himself moan helplessly and managed to look
through his eyelashes to see that Harry's eyes were closed,
Harry's expression one of absolute bliss. _You don't have
this top thing quite down, do you lover?_ Tom thought and
felt more sure than ever that Harry would not accuse him of
rape, that Harry didn't really want to force him to do
anything, which left this whole charade even more of a
puzzle.

Harry's fingers wrapped themselves around Tom's dick. Harry
came up for air and chuckled. "Doesn't taste so bad," he
said.

"What?" Tom asked, forgetting he was supposed to be quiet
and submissive. This was Harry.

Harry didn't remember to be upset with Tom for talking out
of turn. Instead, he said, very softly. "Me. In your mouth."

"Oh," Tom said. And then, unable to resist it. "Are you
blushing, Harry? Can I open my eyes and see if you're
blushing? Please?"

Harry chuckled again. "Depends what it's worth to you,
lieutenant." His lips came down and touched Tom's, softly,
in the most delicate of kisses. "Yes," he whispered, against
Tom's lips. "Go ahead."

Tom opened his eyes and damn if Harry wasn't blushing,
looking down at him with those melting dark eyes, while his
hand continued to play with Tom's dick, bringing Tom back to
full erection.

Tom realized that this was Harry, this was his best friend,
Tom wasn't dreaming, and blushed at least as dark as Harry.

"Of course, you realize I'll have to punish you for being so
familiar," Harry said, his smile mitigating his words.

"Uh... sure, anything you say," Tom said.

Harry chuckled, removed his hands from Tom's dick. "Show me
what you do to yourself. When you're alone."

"Uh... most of the time, I shave, dress, sleep, you know
that sort of thing. Sometimes I read, but--"

"Tom. You know what I mean. Do it."

Tom sighed. So the game wasn't done. And it wasn't a bad
game. He looked down at his erection. An orgasm already and
another quite possibly on the way. No, not bad at all. He'd
been lucky to get laid once with Megan and that, of course,
not every night, and then there was the c word thing. His
erection flagged, and he wrenched his mind from Megan and
his problems with Megan to look at Harry. Harry in black
leather. A sight to feast the eyes upon. He wondered if
Harry would let him get a picture once all this was over.
He'd sure love to have one.

Looking at Harry, remembering what he'd done with Harry,
thinking of other things he'd like to do with Harry, Tom
played with his rapidly re-hardening erection, till it was
leaking pre-come and he was panting, his gaze locked with
Harry's. Harry's own erection made a growing mound in the
leather pants.

"Stop," Harry said.

Tom stopped, but asked, "Please, let me."

Harry shook his head. Though he looked far less threatening
than he'd looked in the beginning, he still spoke with
determination. "No. Wait."

By an effort of will, Tom managed to keep his hands at his
side.

Harry sat beside him on the bed. His hands played with Tom's
nipples, then ran down the sides of Tom's body to his waist,
caressed the expanse of his flat stomach, went up to caress
his ears, his neck, the sweat-soaked blond curls.

Tom pushed his hips upwards, and made a wordless begging
sound.

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. Not yet, love. Be patient."

_Love?_ the part of Tom that could still think latched on to
the word. As far as Harry calling him things, he'd take love
anytime.

"Who do you think of when you masturbate?" Harry asked.

Tom couldn't talk. All he managed was a shrug. Harry
chuckled.

"Megan?" he asked.

Tom shook his head. He'd never thought of Megan because
Megan was his most frequent lay. There was hardly anything
exciting or different about her.

Harry looked surprised. "B'Elanna?"

Tom shrugged.

Harry chuckled again. "Does that mean... sometimes?"

Tom managed a nod. He was fairly sure that if Harry let go
of him or else let him touch himself again, he would be able
to answer with words. He remembered his tooth regeneration
man back when he'd been a teenager. Always asked him
questions when Tom couldn't possibly answer. Wondered if it
was one of Harry's relatives.

"Kes?" Harry's nails raked, oh so lightly against Tom's
sides.

Nod. "The captain?" Harry blushed as he asked.

Shrug.

"Chakotay?" Raised eyebrows.

Tom shook his head.

"Tuvok?" Tom's eyes opened very wide, in utter surprise, as
he shook his head.

"Neelix?"

Tom laughed aloud while shaking his head. His erection
flagged visibly.

"I begin to see a pattern," Harry said. "And I'm not quite
sure I like it, but here goes-- Do you ever masturbate while
thinking of me?"

Tom blushed, a dark pink spreading from his cheeks to his
belly button.

Harry tickled that belly button and said, "An answer, Tom."

Tom took a deep breath, the blush intensified.

Harry kissed his lips, said, "Don't make me get inventive.
Answer me."

How will he react?_ If he'd been able to talk, he'd explain
that the urge to think of Harry while masturbating had been
growing steadily over the last year, but that never, never
in his wildest moments had he expected any of those
fantasies to come true. Not able to talk, all he managed was
a decided nod.

"Oh?" Harry said. His hands stopped their work. His mouth
came down over Tom's and kissed Tom as though he meant never
to let go. Then he kissed from Tom's mouth to Tom's ear,
nibbled on his ear lobe. "Do you ever think of me while
you're with Megan?"

Tom's nod brought a delighted chuckle.

Harry sat on the side of the bed, looked down at Tom. "Tom,
are you all right? Can you talk?" Tom took a deep breath.
"Depends," he said. "If you want me to discuss mathematics
you'd better allow me to do something about this first." His
hand pointed at his erection, though he didn't dare touch
it. Harry chuckled, then appeared to think about it. He
shook his head. "No. I don't think I will. Let you do
something about it, I mean."

"Harry, how much do you want me to beg?"

Harry chuckled. "A lot," he said. "You look cute when you
beg."

Before Tom could respond, Harry brought his face down. His
mouth engulfed Tom's erection.

It wouldn't, under any circumstances, have been a drawn out
thing, but in Tom's state, the surprise of Harry's action,
and seeing Harry's head down there, was all it took. He
tried to scream a warning. "Gods, Harry, I'm--" but when he
screamed it he already was coming in Harry's warm mouth.

If Harry minded he didn't give any indication of it. He
remained there, his mouth around Tom, while Tom spent
himself in intense flashes of pleasure that left him
exhausted, his mind numbed.

Harry cleaned him, lovingly, with his tongue, before coming
up for air. He kissed Tom on the lips, allowing Tom to taste
himself. Tom had never thought this would be a turn on. But
it was, when it was Harry doing it to him.

Harry sat up again, looked at Tom.

Tom managed to focus his eyes enough to look at his lover's
smile. _Like a cat with cream._ he thought.

Just then the smile faded and Harry looked very shy. Much
more timid than he had looked when he'd first come aboard.
"Tom?" he asked.

"Yes?" Tom asked.

"Are you going to marry Megan?"

Tom expected just about any other question. "What?"

"Megan Delaney. Are you going to marry her?"

Tom blinked. "No. What would make you think--"

Harry took a deep breath. "She said you were going to. That
you just needed to sit down and have a talk about all the
details."

Tom touched the leather sleeve. "Is that what this is all
about, Harry? You thought I was marrying Megan?"

Harry shrugged. "It's part of it. The other part-- I have
wanted to do this for so long."

"Dress in black leather and kidnap me?" Tom asked, puzzled.

Harry frowned and chuckled at the same time. "No, stupid.
Well, kidnap you, sure. But the black leather was just
incidental. You see, I asked B'Elanna how to go about
seducing you and she told me and then she said of course if
I was going to do it, I should dress in black leather and I
thought, why not."

The whole account was so innocent that Tom couldn't help
giggling. "You asked B'Elanna to tell you how to seduce me?
You asked the half Klingon how to go about seducing me?
Well, that sure explains a lot." He laughed.

Harry frowned. "I forgot she was half Klingon," he said.

Tom laughed.

"She's my only friend aboard," Harry protested.

This put an abrupt end to the laughter. "Your only friend?
What the hell am I? Chopped liver?"

"You're a little more than a friend, Tom. And besides, what
was I supposed to do? Ask you how to seduce you? Openly?
Because I tried, you know, in a round about way."

Tom opened his mouth. Closed it. "You were talking about
me?"

Harry nodded. "Who did you think I was talking about?"

"Crewman Freumann?"

Harry stared, disbelieving. "You did not," he said.

"You were talking to him just before I sat down, and then
you started asking me this stuff about your friend. What was
I supposed to think? And James Freumann is good-looking."

"He is?" Harry still stared.

"You didn't notice?"

"We were talking about B'Elanna," Harry said. "Or rather, he
was talking about B'Elanna. He wanted to know what her
hobbies were. That sort of thing."

"Oh." Tom said. He whistled under his breath. "Brave man."

Harry grinned. Then he kissed Tom again. "So you're not
going to get married, Tom?"

Tom frowned at his friend, then smiled. "Not to Megan, at
any rate," he said. _And miss out on this just when I found
it. Right._ He let his hand stray to the bulge in Harry's
pants. And, to his own amazement, he felt his own dick react
again. He didn't remember having these many consecutive
erections since puberty. "You seem to have a little
swelling, Harry."

Harry looked down, shrugged. "It always does that when
you're around, anyway."

"Really?" _This could be a truly interesting relationship._
Tom moved his hand up and down over the crotch of Harry's
leather pants, while an idea formed itself in his gonads
and, before his conscious mind could censor it, he asked,
"Wanna fuck me?" The bulge doubled under Tom's hand and Tom
looked up at Harry's lust-filled gaze.

"I don't want to hurt you," Harry said, talking fast. "Libby
never let me go all the way in because--"

Tom grinned. "I'm willing to try." _What am I thinking?
He'll rip me apart._

"Are you sure?" Harry's big eyes stared intently at Tom.

"Very." _Tom Paris, you're a masochistic nut._

Harry blinked, kissed Tom, a long kiss, with his tongue
wrestling with Tom's.

Tom moaned into Harry's mouth.

Harry started to take off his jacket.

"No," Tom said, putting out a hand to stay him. "No. Leave
that on. And if you could... you know... keep up the top act
a little longer--"

"Top? A spinning toy?"

"Uh, no. The authoritarian in a bondage game, the--"

"Oh. I'm not very good at it." Harry frowned. "You don't
need that to get off do you Tom? Because--"

Tom shook his head. "No. It's just that I'm curious.
Because, you see, in New Zealand, I was used so many times,
by so many dominant males, and it never got the slightest
rise out of me. So I'm wondering why this excites me so
much."

"Oh," Harry said, going pale. "I'd forgotten about New
Zealand. Tom, will you ever forgive me?"

Tom's turn to blink and look puzzled. "Forgive you for
what?"

"For... you know... forcing you--"

Tom shook his head. "You can't force the willing. And I
don't think you could truly force anyone. You're much too
nice. Maybe that's why I'm excited. Because I know I'm
perfectly safe, anyway."

Harry smiled, then said. "On your hands and knees,
Lieutenant."

Tom sighed happily as he got into position, his erection now
fully recovered.

Harry got up behind him, opened the bedside drawer. A quick
glance allowed Tom to see Harry's hand picking a tube of
something from the drawer. He felt reassured that Harry knew
about lube, but then wondered if he knew about anything
else.

"Harry, have you done this before?" he asked, fearing that
Harry was about to play it by ear.

"Did you call me Harry?" Harry's outraged voice asked from
behind him.

"Uh?" Harry had slid back into top mode, had he? "I'm sorry,
master. I beg your forgiveness. I'll do anything you want me
to."

"Of course you will," Harry said. "But this familiarity of
yours will have to be punished." A feather-light touch on
his buttocks made Tom start. "How would you like to be
spanked?" Harry asked.

Tom couldn't speak, which was just as well, because he had
no idea what to say. The idea of physical pain always turned
him completely off. But on the other hand, Harry's
suggestion made a delicious pulse of excitement run from his
head to his toes.

The first slap, sharp and stinging startled Tom enough that
he cried out. But the second, third and fourth, catching him
forewarned, brought only moans.

By the tenth, Tom's buttocks had started to warm and, for
reasons he couldn't fully understand, his dick was as hard
as though the evening had just started.

At the twelfth, Harry stopped, and caressed Tom's reddened
buttocks. "Such lovely skin," Harry said. "Shows every
slap."

_What is happening to me?_ Tom thought, as he heard himself
groan and feared that he was on the verge of asking Harry to
resume spanking him. He'd been so close. A couple more blows
and he'd have come.

"And, Tom?" Harry said, in a voice with just a hint of a
chuckle in it. "No, I've never done this, and yes, I know
what I'm doing. I've read a lot about it." Before Tom could
protest that there was a world of difference between theory
and practice, he felt a greased finger push into his tight
behind. There was a time he'd hardly have given it a second
thought, but it had been a long time since he'd been
penetrated, and he found the sensation as strange as though
this were the very first time.

Harry, tough talk not withstanding, took it slow and gently,
giving Tom full time to get used to the pressure before
adding a second finger.

By the time a third finger joined the other two, Tom was
pushing back and begging for more.

Harry caressed the side of Tom's buttocks, calming him.
"Easy, love," he said. "Easy, let's go slow."

At that moment, Tom did not want slow. He had his heart set
on fast, furious, and damn the pain. But when he felt the
pressure of Harry's swollen dick on his opening, he did
understand the virtues of taking things slow.

Harry's entry seemed to take forever, Tom's body fighting it
all the way.

"Maybe we should--" Harry started.

"No," Tom yelled, pushing himself back. That push brought
Harry past the sphincter and into him.

Harry gasped in surprise and Tom yelped at unexpected pain.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

Tom could only nod. Despite his nod, Harry remained
immobile, giving Tom the time to get used to this, before
starting to push in, in a slow rocking motion.

Tom's brain warred with his mind. This was the worst torture
he'd ever endured and the most pleasure he could handle. He
felt both pain and pleasure with an absolute totality that
he'd never even guessed at before.

He heard himself make noise, moans, groans and whimpers and
was surprised that all of them sounded like the noise of
pleasure because he wasn't even sure this was pleasure, but
on the other hand he was quite sure he didn't want it to
end.

Harry stopped. "I'm all the way in. Are you all right?"

Tom took two deep breaths and pleasure won the war for his
synapsis. He was better than all right. He felt as though
he'd died and gone to heaven. And when he remembered it was
Harry back there, stretching him, filling him, he wanted
nothing better than for this to go on forever. "Yes. Oh,
yes," he said, and pushed himself back, wanting Harry to
resumed movement.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Harry asked, kissing Tom
on the side of the neck, and starting a gentle rocking
motion.

Harry tried to keep it gentle. That much was sure. But Tom
coaxed and begged, with body language and voice, until he
got Harry past gentleness, into a robust rhythm.

_I must be nuts,_ Tom thought. _I'm not going to be able to
sit for a week. But, oh, it feels so good_ It did feel good.
Exquisite pleasure coursed through Tom's veins, reducing his
vision to a haze. He heard a steady drumming beat in his
ears, slowly replaced by a loud hiss.

_I'm going to have a heart attack, but it's worth it,_ he
thought. "Oh, Harry. Oh, yes, Harry, that feels so good.
_Even if he ends up coming out through my belly button.
Explain that one to the Doctor, Tommy._ He tried to laugh,
but the hiss in his ears grew louder and he was overtaken by
blissful, unbelievable pleasure and everything went dark
around him.


He came to with Harry still inside him, and collapsed on top
of him, too. Harry was kissing the back of Tom's neck and
muttering words that belonged to no human language.

Tom's heart slowed down from deafening to merely noisy. "Oh,
Harry--" Tom started. "That was--" He heard himself sigh. He
realized Harry had stopped talking and that Harry's
breathing sounded suspiciously regular. "Hey, Harry. I think
we should shower."

"Uhmmm," Harry replied.

"Harry, get up, come on, we need to shower."

"Clean freak," Harry muttered, but did get off Tom and
allowed him to get up.

Together they headed for the shower.

---

Captain Janeway couldn't put her finger on it. She just knew
that for the last three months things had been different.
The atmosphere on the bridge seemed more... bouncy was the
only way she could put it. Of course, B'Elanna's affair with
crewman Freumann made most of the crew feel more ...
settled. Not only because it was an establishing of links
aboard, but because, after all, B'Elanna had seemed like the
hardest case a matchmaker could come across. If she'd found
love, surely everyone else could.

But the happy feeling on the bridge was closer... The
captain looked at Harry Kim, who had been acting remarkably
self assured lately.

Just then Harry Kim looked up at Tom Paris' back, as Tom sat
at his station. And there was something in that look.
Something electric, the captain thought.

Getting up, she approached Tom. He was looking at something
on the small screen in front of him and didn't hear her
until she was immediately behind him. The picture on the
screen-- Janeway gasped. Tom touched a key. The picture
disappeared, replaced with rows of columns. Tom looked back,
trying to affect his devil-may-care look.

"Anything wrong, captain?" he asked, the perfect officer,
except for a raging blush.

"Uh... nothing at all. Just wondering... uh... what you
were... uh...doing."

"Just... ahem... running some checks," Tom said.

Janeway nodded. "Yes, yes, of course, carry on." She turned
and walked back to her place, stealing a look at her Ops
officer as she went. She was sure the picture she had seen
on that screen was the key to the happy mood on the bridge.
She was also sure that what she'd seen had been Harry in a
black leather suit. She whistled under her breath.

The strangest things happened in the Delta quadrant.

She managed to take refuge in her ready room before she
exploded in uncontrollable laughter.

---

The End