The BLTS Archive - Magic Hand of Chance
#3: Kama Sutra
by raku (raku2u@aol.com)

---

DISCLAIMER:  Paramount/Viacom and their Very Large Lawyers hold
copyright in the characters and location in this story. The plot
is mine.  This is a not-for-profit fan-fic story, and no
infringement of copyright is intended.  The _Kama Sutra_ itself is
in public domain.

WARNING:  If you don't know what the title refers to, you shouldn't
be reading this.  Those under 18, stay away: explicit m/m conduct is
described below.

HEY, YOU:  IF YOU TRY ANY OF THIS STUFF AT HOME, ACT RESPONSIBLY, EH?
LIFE'S BEAUTIFUL.  USE A CONDOM TO KEEP IT THAT WAY.

ARCHIVING: *Public archive* only on the ASC archive and R'rain's slash
archive, please.  *Private archive*:  ok to download onto your own
computer, but please keep the headers intact, and please keep it away
from the underage.

Author's note:  earlier stories in the sequence are "The Magic Hand
of Chance," in which Tuvok and Paris choose each other, and "Blowing
Out the Flame," in which they struggle through pon farr.  Not
necessary to read those first, but they do offer background to this
story.

Copyright 1998 by raku.

---

Tuvok sighed.  He looked around the room at the knots of people
standing in twoses and threeses, still wrangling over the issues just
discussed in the staff meeting.  Humans.  Their individuality was
sometimes -- difficult.  He rubbed his temples with long fingers,
willing away the dull headache the session had produced.

Lost in thought, he leapt at the high-volt shock that arced from the
voice just at his ear.  "Ready to go?"  Tom's satin baritone rumbled
almost too low to hear.  In pitch meant for Tuvok alone, it had the
effect of a toe-kick to his heart.

Tuvok swallowed hard and nodded his head once.  He stood, stacking the
few padds he'd used in the staff meeting, and then followed Tom out of
the room.  To onlookers the exchange would have seemed deeply average.
Yet Tuvok's heart raced a little, and he felt mildly lightheaded.

Without turning around, Tom could feel Tuvok's dark eyes warm on him
as they started down the hallway.  The Vulcan's musings on the coming
evening spun brilliantly across the bond between them -- images vivid
and erotic, random darting thoughts, the magic word soaring
upward--*t'hy'la*...

In easy comfort they strolled along to Tuvok's quarters, Tom whistling
tunelessly.  They reached the suite and the door shot open.  They
stepped inside as if into a different world, and both sighed with
relief at the end of their shift.  They had a rare two days off duty
at the same time, and they had been looking forward to it.

The Chief Security Officer's suite was of course more spacious than
the quarters that the ship's pilots all drew, but the lack of clutter
Tuvok maintained made the suite feel the size of a holodeck.  Yet the
absence of clutter also made it seem especially intimate:  the few
signs of individuality were starkly emphasized.

The worktable had been moved in front of the main port and now held
the merged holopics of their families.  There was a firepot at one end
of the suite, near the floating red lights.  Tuvok's broad bed lay
below the silver k'lin, or rather half a k'lin.  He and T'Pel had torn
theirs in half, end to end, the first time Tuvok had left Vulcan on a
long mission.  Not customary, but then Tuvok showed these flashes of
anarchy every so often -- though he was careful always to describe
them as "logical choices."  Tom thought a little healthy anarchy was
probably what made him such an effective security officer.

They dropped the materials they'd brought from the staff meeting.  Tom
kicked off his boots and unzipped the front of his jumpsuit, baking in
the heat Tuvok preferred.  As an afterthought he reached to set his
boots upright by the closet door.   Quickly he stripped off his
uniform and turtleneck, and pulled on a casual shirt and trousers.  He
looked around inquisitively.  What had had Tuvok so occupied earlier
in the day that he had skipped lunch?

Tom smiled when he spotted the dining table.  Tuvok had assembled a
fine dinner, complete with linens, wine, and candles.  His efforts
pleased and touched the human.  Tom grinned at Tuvok.  "Had a few
replicator credits to burn?"

Tuvok replied, almost cheerfully, "Vegetarian dining habits are
usually inexpensive.  Other items I secured during shoreleave, in the
Avalik bazaar.  I thought they would please you."  As he spoke he
selected a favorite file of sitar music, and quiet strings filled the
room.

"You were right.  You couldn't have done better if you'd studied a
manual on 'romantic Terran dinner parties for two'."  Tom kissed Tuvok
lightly and ran a hand down his back.  He pulled a bundle from a
drawer and tossed it onto a nearby table. Tuvok noted the package but
said nothing.  In their time together he had already learned that Tom
cherished the sense of being in charge, and that included surprising
him with the occasional gift.  A garment, some food -- nothing fancy,
but a point made all the same.

Tom pulled the cork from the wine bottle while Tuvok lowered the
room's temperature and changed into warmer clothing.  He set the
bottle on the dinner table.

They sat down across from each other and Tuvok filled their wine
glasses.  Tom raised his, looked at the gleaming red backlit by the
candles, and gestured toward his companion.  "Cheers," he toasted,
then reconsidered and said, "To exploration."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow and began to speak, but Tom shook his head
with a grin.  "To exploration," Tuvok repeated.

The pasta and green salad had been well prepared, and both men dug in
with good appetite.  Finally Tom speared the last olive and ate it.
Tuvok looked up when he heard Tom's fork click against his teeth, and
the human grinned at him.  Tom directed Tuvok's gaze to his plate, and
in a desultory way he wound a few remaining strands of linguini around
his fork.  Not taking his eyes off his puzzled companion, he opened
his mouth and extended his tongue just a bit, slowly sucking in the
pasta and then running his tongue across his lips.  He chuckled as he
chewed and swallowed.

Tuvok seemed to get the idea:  he picked up what was left of the
baguette and ran his long fingers back and forth across its length,
tracing the ridges and the slashes in the crust.  He held it up so Tom
could see, and deliberately ran his tongue along one side, never
taking his eyes off his companion.  Tom laughed and said, "Now you're
catching on!"

Without warning Tuvok snapped the piece in two, tearing off a ragged
hunk of the bread and silently handing it to Tom.  "Ouch!" said the
human.  Tuvok raised an eyebrow and bit into his own bread, hard.

They finished up with little further conversation.  Tuvok quirked a
half-smile when Tom lifted his glass with the last of the wine and
said, "Bottoms up!"

The Vulcan replied, "I trust you will avoid using that toast when
dining with the captain."  Tom laughed, and they stood up.  They
cleared the dinner wreckage with swift military efficiency, and they
took their glasses to the couch beyond the table.

They settled into companionable silence and watched the flickering of
the firepot against the wall.  Tuvok tipped up the last of his wine
and set the glass aside.  He leaned sideways against Tom's shoulder
and briefly closed his eyes.  It still felt strange, occasionally, to
find that his lover had shoulders and arms as strong, as long, as his
own, but his bond with Tom had an essential rightness to it that was
undeniable.  He still grieved for T'Pel, and Tom knew he did, but both
accepted the fact comfortably.  It had become just another feature of
their peculiar situation -- one of many such issues on a ship full of
people compelled to travel together for possibly decades to come.

After a bit Tom asked some routine questions about work Tuvok had been
doing with holodeck programming -- trying to create some simulations
that might make prisoners feel more at home than they would in the
brig.  Tuvok had had the idea that in some circumstances prisoners
might be more tractable if they weren't being kept in brightly-lit
sterile cubicles around the clock.  He was still tinkering with the
idea, uncertain it was completely safe, but the programming involved
had kept them both much occupied in off-hours.  And it might end up
useful in a completely different way, one never knew.

Tom finished his wine and got up to grab the bottle off the table.  At
the same time he retrieved the package and presented it to Tuvok with
a small bow and a large smile.  Tuvok studied the cheerful face in
front of him, wondering what heavy square object could produce that
expression.  Having undone the cord holding the red foil paper close
around the package, he examined the object in the folds of the crisp
paper.

It was a copy of the 2027 edition of the _Kama Sutra,_ quarto- size.
A rare commodity in the Delta Quadrant.  Bound in smooth hand-tooled
leather, it was typeset with museum-quality hot type instead of the
popular but soulless cold-type computer fonts, and it contained
holograms and sound chips for each of the illustrated sexual
positions.

Tuvok studied the volume in silence for some moments, feeling the
weight of the cream-colored paper, the almost Braille-like
indentations made by the metal type, the care with which the chips had
been placed in the keylines.  Satin headbands.  Incised gold letters
on the spine.  Hand-tinted endsheets, if he wasn't mistaken.

A work of art, true craftsmanship, and a loving present.  Typical of
Tom--a thoughtful gift that spoke difficult words for him.

The Vulcan looked at Tom and said simply, "Thank you.  A noble gift."

Tom replied, "Then you like it?  It's a little explicit -- maybe,
well -- I thought you'd appreciate the skills that went into making
it--"

"As well as the skills it depicts?"

Tom cast his eyes down.  "Well, those too."

"The bazaar?" Tuvok queried.

"Yep.  I offered the owner a little free programming, and she was
happy to part with it.  She tried to explain how she came to have it,
but I got lost about four generations back."

Tuvok gestured toward the space next to him on the low couch.  Tom sat
down and took up the discarded paper, tearing it accurately into two
squares.  The Vulcan browsed among the pages for a short time, as the
pilot creased and bent the paper, adjusted a corner, matched two
points.  Tuvok got up, setting the book on the table in front of them.
On top of the volume Tom placed an elegant red-foil fox, and Tuvok
half-smiled at it.

Another of the many surprises about this curious human was his skill
in making small animals out of paper.  The first time -- so long ago,
before their bond -- that he had visited the young lieutenant's
quarters, he had found several strings of delicate colored-paper
birds--of course, it would be birds, he thought-- suspended from the
ceiling.  Now there was a string hanging over his own desk.  It was
much of a piece:  those inquisitive fingers couldn't be still for
long, on duty or off.

Tom studied his lover's face, his stomach fluttering a little.  What
sort of reaction was he having to this volume?  Did he approve?
Disapprove?

He watched Tuvok move about the room in his off-duty clothing:  a long
dark-blue robe with swallow-wing sleeves and silver characters running
down one shoulder at an angle.  It looked quite comfortable -- soft,
warm against the cooler temperatures his lover preferred, and
curiously molded to his body.  Tom's eyes traced the angles and curves
that the robe revealed and then hid, as the tightly woven fabric clung
to his long arms and legs and then swung free.

Tuvok quenched the main lights and lit more candles throughout the
suite.  Silently he floated back to the couch and studied Tom's
profile for a moment.  Then he stretched an arm along the back of the
couch and lightly squeezed Tom's shoulder with his fingers, let go.
Tom felt a burst of warmth along the bond.

Tom sighed to himself with relief -- Tuvok was accepting the book.  He
felt a burn of anticipation within, felt himself getting hard.  Tuvok
had often shown a certain reticence about sexual matters, and Tom had
enjoyed drawing him out, showing him choices, washing away some of the
deep Vulcan guilt about pleasure.  But there had been a few tricky
moments.

Tom took up Tuvok's hand and turned it back and forth, studying the
texture of the skin, the nails, the warm brown tones compared to the
anemic color of his own skin.  He turned Tuvok's hand palm-upward and
smiled at him.  Then he dropped his head, and with the most delicate
strokes of his tongue, he began to trace the edge of color, the line
around Tuvok's hand where the light palm gave over to the darker skin.
It took him some moments to work all along Tuvok's graceful fingers
and around his broad palm, but the sounds his companion was making
suggested that the time spent was well worth it.

When he had returned to his starting point, he began so, so gently to
lick the tips of Tuvok's fingers.  At the same time he ran his other
hand behind Tuvok's head and began caressing a sensitive ear.

Tuvok had consistently been surprised by Tom's attitude toward sex.
The human was experienced, and thoughtful, and clever in devising
great pleasure from simple things, like licking fingertips.  He had a
connoisseur's attitude, and clearly quite some years of diverse
experiences.  Utterly different from his own background:  he had found
it hard to convey to Tom just how private a matter such things were in
his culture.  And yet, he had found himself the delighted and
satisfied beneficiary of those years of experimentation.  He had had
*no* idea what the lieutenant knew of such things.  Oh my, no idea at
all.

He gently retrieved his hand from Tom's caress, opened the book, and
began to read.

"'To begin:  The embrace that marks out the mutual love of two who
have come together is of four kinds -- touching, piercing, rubbing,
pressing'."

Tuvok turned a little toward Tom, and ran two fingers along the soft
fabric that covered his thigh.  Tuvok cupped the other's face in one
hand, and ran his thumb across the other's cheekbone.  He studied
Tom's face, the closed eyes, the light freckles. Freckles, what an
illogical feature.  Yet quintessentially Tom.  How strangely pale his
skin was, how the flush of embarrassment or excitement stood out
across his cheeks.  And how stirring that could sometimes be.

Tuvok closed his own eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath.  Then he
mildly continued, "Might I propose we turn to the bathing section, as
the volume suggests?"

Almost whispering, Tom mouthed, "Yes."

The two stood up together and moved toward the bathroom, Tom with
slightly trembling limbs, Tuvok with deliberation.  He set the book
where they could see it but where it would stay dry, and he began to
draw the bath.  He made sure the water was a temperature they could
both stand, and then set towels and other items within reach.  He
turned to help Tom strip.

The human was leaning against some cupboards, arms folded across his
chest, waiting and watching.  As Tuvok approached he opened his arms
in a firm embrace and moved to kiss the Vulcan, who gently laid his
fingers against the human's lips and said,  "Not yet."

As slowly as possible, Tuvok reached a hand inside the flap of Tom's
shirt and fingered the clips open.  He eased the sides apart, running
his warm hands over the cooler skin of the human. Easily he smoothed
the shirt backward over Tom's shoulders, and he ran his fingers along
Tom's waist.  He cupped his palm around the delicious swelling they
both observed at Tom's groin.  He undid the other's belt and trousers,
and then slid lean fingers inside the waistband.

With one fluid movement he skimmed the trousers downward, deftly
maneuvering the cloth around the curves of his companion's body.  Tom
kicked his feet and legs free and stood in glorious human nakedness
before his Vulcan lover.  Tuvok again cupped Tom's groin with one
hand, worked his fingers expertly against the responsive flesh.

Tom closed his eyes and softly hummed.  After a moment he grinned and
with lips against a sensitive ear he whispered, "I'm not going to last
long, Tuvok, if you do things like that."

The Vulcan merely raised an eyebrow and began a slow striptease.

-- Learns fast,-- thought Tom.

He lingeringly opened the fastenings of his robe and with unhurried
hands folded it back to expose an area from collarbone to ankle.  Tom
drew in his breath at the sight and moved forward to caress Tuvok's
skin.  As Tuvok had done, he slid his hands under the folded cloth,
then stripped it off the Vulcan's shoulders and downward, leaving him
revealed to his lover's gaze.

Tuvok embraced Tom.  They held each other close for a moment, limbs
twined together, head resting on the other's shoulder, feeling the hum
along the bond turn to a pounding, a pounding of drums.  Then Tuvok
nudged Tom and pointed to the long mirror that reflected their mingled
bodies.  "Like milk mixing into coffee," he murmured.  Tom tightened
his arms around Tuvok's chest, and kissed his throat where it met his
jaw.

The Vulcan leaned into the kiss.  Tom had confessed at an early stage
that Tuvok's long, graceful neck had always fascinated him: he'd had
fantasies about kissing and nuzzling his way up and down it long
before they'd ever become a pair.  Often when they were twined
together in bed, he would spend long moments nibbling at Tuvok's neck
and watching the muscles bunch and loosen at the corner of his strong
jaw, as they were excited and then relaxed by all the attention Tom's
tongue was giving them.

After a moment Tuvok moved away from Tom's insistent mouth, a burning
circle of wetness marking his throat.  He gestured toward the bath
waiting behind them.

Tom signaled for Tuvok to step in first, and then he took his seat at
the other side of the square tub.  First he tried stretching out his
long legs but found his feet were up against Tuvok's groin, and that
seemed to him somehow graceless.  He settled for bending his legs and
resting his knees against either side of the tub.  It left him utterly
exposed, but the Vulcan helped him by adopting the same revealing
posture.

Tuvok remarked, "The designers of these facilities do not seem to have
had us in mind."

"Are you complaining?" replied Tom.

"Complain about being alone with you?  Like this?  That would not be
logical, would it?"  He raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth.
He studied his companion's body with a lingering glance, with respect
and desire.  Whenever he looked at his lover, he always found
something new to admire.  The human physique was so -- enticing.

Their first times together after the burning brand of pon farr,
generally Tom had had difficulty in restraining himself.  The
combination of finally seeing Tuvok lying between his legs, feeling
the sensation of the other's sex in that most intimate of touches, and
the sound -- the sound was what did it:  the sound of Tuvok's
breathing or his soft tongue at work, of his much - elevated
heartbeat, most of all the sound of his sheath licking against Tom,
slipping backward to reveal all, those ridges sliding against him, and
sliding, and sliding -- and all too soon Tom would come in great
bursts, shouting his lover's name as if he were trying to crack the
heavens.

Gradually they had learned it was better for Tom to close his eyes, to
close out at least that much stimulation.  And then Tuvok quietly
found he was able to gaze on his human's face without being observed,
to watch the senses of love and desire sweep across it, to concentrate
on his own reactions and the intense, joyful pleasure he was bringing
to the young pilot, his bondmate.

After they had settled in the tub, Tuvok glanced over at the volume.
He murmured softly, "'Varikrida, the water game'." He added a little
scented oil to the water from a celadon bottle at his elbow, and then
caressed Tom's shin with the toes of one foot. He gazed at Tom with
steady eyes, ovals of dark gem.

Tom could dimly sense Tuvok recalling the pon farr -- his mind filled
with the flashes of light just as it had at that time -- and in his
own head he summoned the most erotic memories he could recall.  After
they had burned off the worst of the fire, the pon farr had allowed
them some space to enjoy each other, to share in the bond they were
creating instead of being controlled by it.  Now that time was all
diamond-hard memories, just as Tuvok did not forget T'Pel.  Tom would
not have had it any other way.

Tuvok swept a dark hand through the water to distribute the oil, and
they both watched the trail of bubbles that followed his fingers.  Tom
breathed a relaxed sigh as the notes of the sitar wafted through the
room to them.  They both briefly closed their eyes and absorbed the
sensations, the heat, the closeness so familiar and yet always new.

After a bit Tuvok opened his eyes and touched Tom's foot gently with
two fingers.  "More?" he queried.

"Mmmm."

Tuvok scooped up a little water in his palm and dribbled it across
Tom's chest.  He studied the trails of water that ran down, and he
traced them slowly with an extended fingertip.  Their fingers twined
together under the water's surface, then drew apart to form a bridge
half in shadow and half in light.  Tom traced the angles of Tuvok's
knee, ran a finger along the back of his leg, and smiled.  Tuvok took
up a cloth from the bath's edge and rubbed it across a square of soap.
Taking Tom's hand he stroked the cloth from palm to shoulder, turning
the arm outward to expose the lighter skin.  He smoothed the cloth
across Tom's collarbones, and then down his chest to his stomach.
Both could now see the very pleasing effect Tuvok's caresses were
having on Tom's body, as well as on his own, and Tuvok reached into
the warm water to caress Tom's balls, his cock, the soft skin on his
inner thighs.

Tom tipped his head back against the bath contentedly and gave himself
over to the sensations Tuvok was awakening.  After a few moments Tuvok
leaned forward and softly kissed Tom's lips.  Tom opened his eyes and
grinned at his lover, saying, "Sorry, have I been hogging all the
fun?"

"I have noted that you appear to have a nearly infinite capacity for
experiencing pleasure.  I have wondered if your response is typically
human."

"Ah, you're just jealous.  Admit it, Tuvok."

"Hardly.  Vulcans do not participate in jealousy."

Tom chuckled and leaned forward.  Instead of a caress, however, he
nipped Tuvok's side with a finger and thumb, causing the Vulcan to
jump.

"Hey, Vulcans *are* ticklish!  I know people who'd give a month's
shoreleave to have the answer to that question."

Tuvok attempted to regain his dignity, but it was a feeble effort.

"And now you're blushing, I swear!"  Now Tom did give the other man a
hug, wrapping long wet arms around him and holding on for dear life.

His gaze traveled downward, and his mind again moved back to the pon
farr, the time when Tuvok had first exposed himself to Tom.


--You're not circumcised, -- he had said, half startled. --

--Technically speaking, no, I am not, -- Tuvok had replied. -- But it
is an inexact comparison.  The Vulcan sr'aal is not removable in quite
the same sense that the human foreskin is.--


Tom blushed even now to think of the clinical tones Tuvok had adopted.
Worse, he had continued as if lecturing a cadet class...


--It usefully deadens sensation to some extent, at least at first.  It
is a practical adaptation in periods of pon farr, when encounters may
happen many times in close succession.  You could think of it as -- he
had paused, a mildly ironic eye on Tom, --self-defense.--


But it had been Tuvok who had had to confess that the postures Tom was
suggesting were not especially satisfying, that he much preferred Tom
to use his mouth.  The admission had been difficult, and Tom had
learned of the dim view most Vulcans had toward oral sex.  Just in
time he'd held back a comment about the overall attitude of the planet
Vulcan to any sort of a good time; he doubted it would be helpful,
even if it was true.

After some delightful experimentation, they'd discovered that Tuvok
could find pleasure in all sorts of postures, provided he had what
Tom insisted on calling a longer warm-up period.


--Hey, just my little joke about that infernal body temperature of
yours.--

--Infernal? Are you calling me diabolical? -- Tuvok had replied,
arms crossed firmly in front of him, one eyebrow in the stratosphere.

--Tom replied with his very best imitation of Tuvok's posture and
verbal inflection: -- I assure you, sir, that the more devilish you
are, the better I like you.  And he had made words match actions.--


"What's next in the book of tricks, Tuvok?" he whispered, admiring the
contrast of his light fingers on the other's wet shin.

"Perhaps we should adjourn to a location with more secure footing."

"You mean one where you'll have the advantage?"  Tom grinned happily.
"OK, I'm game."  He hopped out of the tub.  Grabbing a towel, he
wrapped it snugly around Tuvok as he stepped from the bath.  Then he
rotated himself luxuriously against his companion, using the outside
of the towel to dry himself off.

Tuvok endured this performance with a raised eyebrow, merely ducking
to avoid the human's arms waving over his head.

"I am not sure that your humorous conduct will result in a
satisfactory sexual experience."

"Oh, come on -- you don't have to smile, but you gotta admit sex is
fun.  Or are you just bugged because I haven't broken any of your
bones yet?"

"Bone-breaking is a Klingon custom, not a Vulcan one."

"Yeah, but you guys like it rough, you have to admit.  Remember the
black eye?  the split lip?  the sprained ankle?"

"It is hardly logical to represent the events of pon farr as typical."

"Well, the _Kama Sutra_ doesn't emphasize roughness, but I'll see
what I can do to maintain your attention, Commander."

"Do not call me Commander."

Tom leaned in close, whipping the towel away and grinding his pelvis
against Tuvok's.  He whispered, "Is that an order? What are you gonna
do if I do, *Commander*?  fuck me?  do you *promise*?"

Without speaking Tuvok dropped to his knees in front of the human.  He
bent his head and swiftly took Tom's cock into his mouth.  He sucked
hard, very hard.  Tom grabbed his shoulders and nearly fell over
backward in shock.

God, it felt like Tuvok had an advanced degree in fellatio.  Tom
trembled all over.  Waves of sensation rippled out from his center to
the tips of his fingers and toes.

Tuvok halted briefly, and shot a glance at his lover.  He quoted, "
'This is by all named Bahuchushita, 'sucked hard'."

"I'll say."

"I do not hear you protesting."

"Protest?  When you're doing *that*?  Heaven forbid I distract you.
You might bite."

Tuvok again slid his mouth over Tom's penis, and he felt delight fill
his soul just as the hard flesh filled his mouth.  He rolled the back
of his tongue against the head, curled his tongue around the lone
ridge, traced the curve top and bottom with his lips. He drew Tom into
his mouth, let him slide out again, ran his tongue along the underside
now pointing strongly upward, slipped his lips over the head and
tasted the salty fluid.

Tom groaned again and begged, "Tuvok, can we *please* get to a bed?
You're much too good at this..." He trailed off as if he'd forgotten
what he was going to say.

The Vulcan stood and made a gesture toward the bed, then stopped to
pick up the towel they'd let fall.  Hanging it automatically on the
wall, he grabbed the volume and followed his lover into the sleeping
alcove.  He watched Tom move with a deep unspeakable pleasure.  The
man walked with a fluid grace, as comfortable within his skin as
anyone Tuvok had met. Nerves and muscles seemed extraordinarily well
integrated-- Tuvok had mused that was perhaps part of what made him
such a skilled pilot, flying more by instinct than calculation.  Tom
had lovingly shared that instinctive physical skill with his lover,
and made him too feel more comfortable with himself.

This ability to support and comfort, to show the way, had struck them
both as somewhat unexpected, considering Tom was nearly eighty years
younger than Tuvok.  Briefly Tom had indulged himself in a spate of
jokes about cradle-robbing, until Tuvok had proven to their mutual
satisfaction that they were both in the full flower of strength and
prowess.  Tom had merely taken up with another line of teasing, and
Tuvok had given up, concluding this was a basic part of Tom-ness.
After hearing stories from his lover's childhood, he counted himself
fortunate not to find replicated frogs in his bed, or all his
underwear with the fly sewn shut, or other such tricks.  A Terran
childhood clearly differed from a Vulcan one.

Tom reclined on his side, studying Tuvok as he settled the room.  He
moved a few candles into better positions, adjusted the light
overhead, keyed the computer for a favorite file of Vulcan lute-music.
Eventually he sat down on the bed next to the pilot and looked over a
few pages of the book, absentmindedly fingering the heavy paper of the
leaves.

Running fingers down an angular shoulder, Tom said, "What's on your
mind?"

"I thought it best to familiarize myself with a further section of the
work.  I am doubtful that ..."

"That when we get going, you'll have time to stop and read?  Well, you
never know.  I might just ... "

Tom leaned over in turn, and took Tuvok's cock into his mouth with
matching speed and fierceness.  Now it was Tuvok who trembled at the
sensations -- feeling Tom tongue back the extra skin to expose the
head and the supersensitive ridges.  Tom caressed one ridge with the
edge of his tongue, then the other, then cupped the other's balls in
one welcoming palm.  Tuvok shuddered when Tom stopped equally
abruptly.

"...and then quit."  He grinned at Tuvok, then had pity and rolled him
into his arms for a prolonged embrace, as his hands ran up and down
the other's body.  "OK, enough with the teasing," he whispered gently,
feeling Tuvok's eyelashes move softly against his throat.  "You don't
know what you do to me. I don't know how to ... to put these feelings
in terms you'll understand. I never looked for this ... I never
thought ... the one for me would be a Vulcan... and yet you do things
to me that no one ever has ..."

"Tom," whispered Tuvok.  "Were you not saying just today in the staff
meeting that using logic to evaluate non-logical circumstances was in
itself non-logical?"

"What?" replied the pilot.

"Love is not a logical matter, any more than bonds are.  Do not
trouble yourself..."  He ran the backs of his fingers up along Tom's
neck, traced a cheekbone and the oddly pronounced bridge of his nose,
studying the almost transparent skin.

He leaned forward and kissed Tom, trailing his tongue along the
other's lips and grasping his shoulders in both hands.  It had been a
strange sensation, at first, kissing someone with such thin,
inconspicuous lips.  Alien, yet delightful.  And Tom's habit of
kissing him for any and every reason had also been interesting:  he
was fascinated to discover all the different interpretations humans
gave to their kisses.  Tom had seemed equally gratified to learn
Vulcan finger-touches and gestures.

Tuvok softened his mouth against Tom's, let his tongue run across the
other's teeth.  He bit gently at the skin along the jawbone and moved
steadily upward to where the jaw ended at the ear.  He rested his
mouth against the sensitive spot he'd found by accident one morning in
the shower:  he'd nibbled the area just behind Tom's earlobe and Tom
had had an erection almost immediately, to their shared amazement.  He
nuzzled his lips against the clear skin, and was stirred by Tom's
groaned half-breath, "Tuvok."

At which he rested for a moment, knowing they were still in the early
part of a long, delicious evening.  After a moment he mouthed, "More?"

"You know it," replied Tom.

Tuvok rolled Tom slowly onto his back and then knelt between his legs.
"The book's entry says in full:  'Place your lover on a couch, set his
feet to your shoulders, clasp his waist, suck hard and let your tongue
stir his overflowing love-temple.  This is by all named Bahuchushita,
'sucked hard'."

He leaned forward and took Tom in his mouth again.  Then, paying close
attention to his teeth, he used muscular arms and shoulders to nudge
Tom's legs upward.  When the younger man's feet were firmly placed on
his shoulders, he grasped Tom's waist in his hands, as much to support
Tom as to balance himself.  Thus braced, he began to draw his head
back and let it fall forward, caressing the soft skin of the shaft and
head, relishing the texture of human skin, listening to the soft
sounds floating through the room -- now the strings, now the sound of
his lover moaning with pleasure and satisfaction, now the bubbling of
the aquarium on his desk.  Each music in its own way.

Again he traced Tom with his tongue, noting every throbbing vein,
every hollow or ridge.  He lifted his head and listened to the human
moan at the sensation, at the loss of the warm pulling in which he was
losing himself.

Tuvok sucked calmly, letting his shoulders and neck take up most of
the strain. He concentrated on the exquisite sensations he was
receiving, and giving, if Tom's groans and shuddering limbs were any
guide.

After a short time he eased Tom's feet down and sat back to admire his
lover.  He lifted one of Tom's feet and began to trace a complex
pattern on his heel with the nails of two fingers.  Tom leapt as if a
shock had passed through him, but Tuvok held on hard to his ankle.

Tom looked up in astonishment at his companion, said, "What the hell
was that?"

Tuvok gazed at him soundlessly, not taking his eyes away, and again
moved his fingers, now in a circle, now a figure-eight, always staying
in the center of his heel.  Tom lay drenched in powerful sensations
and images -- it wasn't exactly a tickle, and it was certainly
different from the -- other -- sensations Tuvok could always call up,
but it was erotic, so erotic... So easy, just to lie back and give
himself over to this man...  He could feel such stimulation, such
pressure, maybe it was time just to give in to the release that Tuvok
offered--

Tom snatched his foot away and began spelling aloud, fiercely, eyes
shut tight.  "T-U-V-O-K,  U-V-O-K-T,  V-O-K-T-U, O-K-T-U-V..."

"*What* are you doing?"

Tom took a deep breath, and another, and said, "Old distraction
trick...keep your mind where you want it..."

Tuvok leaned forward between the other's thighs, caressing the other's
stomach and chest with his own, trailing twin lines of fire up their
bodies.  He delicately whispered, "And where is your mind, Tom?"

The human took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  "All around you,
Tuvok, all around you.  The things you do."

"Perhaps you are not aware that anagram and spelling games are an old
Vulcan tradition."  He licked Tom's chest with a pointed tongue.
"Parents often try to choose names for their children" lick  lick
"that include the letters for auspicious or descriptive words."  lick

With effort Tom replied, "Trying to tell me something?"

Tuvok grasped a hand and squeezed it in his fist, sat back and studied
his companion sprawled loosely on their bed.  "My parents chose
'Tuvok' in part because it contained the word 'vokt,' which means
'strong' or 'resilient'."  He paused. "Later I learned that in the
Romulan tongue it can mean 'paper'."

Tom smiled.  "Then you really do need some paper animals, Tuvok.  I'll
try to do something unusual with the rest of that red foil."

" 'Something unusual'?" queried the other. "That can be arranged.
Next, 'Kakila, the lovemaking of the crow'."

"Which is--?"

"If my anthropological studies serve, you would call it 'soixante-
neuf'."

"Mmmmmm," replied Tom.  "An all-time favorite."  He flipped himself
end to end on the bed and cushioned his head on Tuvok's thigh, while
Tuvok followed suit.  Each began licking, sucking, tracing every ridge
and hollow, breathing warm breath across damp skin, using tongue and
teeth and throat to convey a boundless love and affection.

After a few moments Tom broke off, panting, and pointed to the
reflections of their bodies in the transparent aluminum of the port
angled above them.  "Look. We look like yin and yang--white and black
curved around each other."

"Each drawing existence from the other," responded Tuvok. "An apt
simile.  There is a completeness, a finality with you."

"Yep, for me too."  He smiled at his companion and sat up.  He reached
across for the book, and after thumbing a few pages began to read
aloud.  "Next on the to-do list:  'Ekabandha, the Knot. One kneels
behind the other with the other's hips pulled right back into his lap.
This provides very close intimacy, deep penetration, and a most
satisfying control'."

"'Control'," murmured Tuvok.  He raised an eyebrow at Tom. "An
interesting concept.  One we have not much explored."

Tom threw his head back and laughed.  "Don't go all Chief Security
Officer on me, Tuvok.  You don't have to bring work into the bedroom,
you know."

"Unless, of course, it is relevant," said the Vulcan, with a dangerous
tone of voice.

"Tuvok, are *you* being *jocular*?"

"Hardly.  I merely indicate areas into which we have not strayed."

"As yet."

"Yes, as yet.  But the night is young--"  and he looked meaningfully
at the clock at bedside.

Tom took the hint. He picked up a small green bottle Tuvok had placed
to hand, one that matched the oil-bottle next to the bath. _Damn,
Vulcans are the original Boy Scouts,_ he reflected -- and oiled
himself thoroughly.  Tuvok watched with taut concentration as the
younger man's fingers slid forward and back along his own skin,
curving around the head, tracing along the underside of the shaft and
the top, not missing a centimeter.  Tuvok had been surprised and
gratified to discover the human's easy approach to sex, caressing
Tuvok, caressing himself.  For Tom sex was an utterly natural part of
life, as normal and average as eating and sleeping.

----

Vulcans entering Starfleet were always warned about humans' constant
awareness of sexuality, and they were given information on how to deal
with this amazingly public treatment of an issue that on Vulcan lived
in secrecy.  Nonetheless they were generally startled to find just how
much of an average Terran's day was given over to conscious or
unconscious consideration of sexual matters.  It was astounding
Terrans had managed to discover warp drive.

Yet, through Tom, Tuvok had found there were compensations: a lover
obsessed by sex was a lover interested in sex, and Tom was nothing if
not that.  He was inventive as to locations for their encounters, and
creative about ways they could pleasure each other.  He had been
amazingly cheerful and imaginative throughout the trial-by-fire of pon
farr:  he had helped Tuvok discard inhibitions at many points.  Tuvok
sometimes wondered if he hadn't discovered the reason why Vulcans
tended to frown on human lovers -- the apprentice envying the master.

Tom liked him to watch, Tuvok knew, and he was quickly discovering
that he liked to watch also.  The same nimble fingers that danced the
enormous ship through asteroid fields, through battle maneuvers --
those same sensitive fingers could call up the most astonishing
sensations.

At last, Tom said in low commanding tones, "Turn around." Tuvok knelt
on the bed, turning his back to Tom and smoothly curling his shoulders
and arms forward.  Tom spoke again, reading from the book, ". . . 'the
Knot'."  He moved up against Tuvok's backside and placed his hands low
on the Vulcan's hips.  Tom continued, ". . . 'with the other's hips
pulled right back into his lap'," and he eased Tuvok's pelvis backward
so that the curve of his ass matched the angle made by his own thighs
and hips.  He slid his hands under and helped Tuvok spread his legs,
ever so slightly, yet just enough.  As Tuvok felt Tom's hardness
against him, seeking entry, he breathed in and then out very deeply,
opening himself to a most intimate penetration.

Tom pressed forward, against that smallest of openings, feeling the
ring of muscle gradually yield, and yield, and -- then he was in.  He
was astounded every time by Tuvok's internal body temperature.  The
flashover of Vulcan heat meant Tom could sense each nerve in his
groin, each ridge in the walls of Tuvok's flesh that were enclosing
him.

So ... tight, so hot -- it was all he could do to hold himself back,
to keep from slamming into the Vulcan in a supreme search for release.
Only gradually was he learning how to get his responses more in sync
with Tuvok's mostly slower reactions.

Slower, yeah that was true, he had to admit, but Tuvok could go on all
night.  Tom could remember shuddering details of their first time
together, sensations Tuvok had called up that he had *never* felt
before.  He had been sorry Tuvok had come so quickly -- but then the
blood fever brought him erect again only a short time later, and then
again, and again, and ... Tom had finally fallen asleep with Tuvok
inside him.

Tom held his breath for a moment, letting the tingling rush pass
through him and over him.  He could feel the golden haze out there on
the horizon, drifting toward him like an incoming fog, gently yet
inexorably.  Smooth and golden, a shower of sparks in a gleaming
column.  Gleaming, dark against the sky, dark like the bewitching skin
of his lover.  Tom ran his tongue the length of Tuvok's spine, sucked
gently against the hard ridges.

He reached around Tuvok and raised his torso so that they were
chest-to-back, and now he could clasp his hands around his lover.  He
fingered the other's sex, ran smooth fingers over the head, eased the
skin back and forth, felt the ridges slant downward and away.  He
groaned gently in Tuvok's ear as he rocked his hips and heard a word
in response, delicately mouthed:  "Mine."

Tom whispered, " 'Chatakavilasa, the sparrow.  He takes the other in
short fluttering strokes...'."

He followed words with actions, pressing gently into Tuvok and then
pulling back, letting just the head of his cock press forward, then
withdrawing a few centimeters, then thrusting his pelvis forward and
back again, just short distances, very quickly, again and again.  Even
this minimal stimulation was almost more than he could take -- he
could feel the column of sparks moving toward him, the distant
trickles of an orgasm flowing together to form a stream.

And he could hear Tuvok responding to the unceasing stimulation, the
persistent throbbing all through his pelvis. --rhe,-- he sang along
their bond, --rhe, rhe, yes, yes-- Tom was unrelenting, unforgiving,
steady, constant, strong.

Abruptly he stopped.  "I have to wait a minute, Tuvok, or I'm gone."

When they were first learning each other's ways, they had found Tom
hardly needed more than a few strokes as giver or taker, or hearing
Tuvok whisper his name, and he was finished.  Tuvok was deeply moved
by how little it took to arouse the younger man -- some of their best
moments had started from almost nothing:  Tuvok waking up in the dark
intimate night to find the human's soft lips on his throat.  Tuvok
taking a shower, and Tom bond-sensing erotic images of himself two
decks away, images of his own hands washing long dark legs.  Tom
studying charts at the desk, and feeling Tuvok's hips against his
back.  That occasion had ended with them lying on the floor, spent,
with Tuvok fingering the torn seams of a jumpsuit and observing that
the uniform's designers had specified curiously strong fasteners.

Tom took a few deep breaths and tried another mental construct to
delay climax.  --Better living through psychology,-- he grinned to
himself.  Then he rested his cheek against the warm skin of his
companion and glanced sideways at the volume.  Without lifting his
head he read, "'Smarachakra, Love's Wheel. Deep circular motions
belong to this posture; it is a version of Chatakavilasa'."

He drew himself up and slid out of Tuvok.  The Vulcan resettled
himself, feeling a soul-expanding anticipation of Tom's closeness
inside and out.  He exhaled with a yogic thoroughness, an urgent need
to feel Tom's warmth and hardness in him, again, soon, *now*.

Tuvok eased himself backward a little, and Tom's cock came up against
him, seeking its natural home.  The two slid together like lock and
key, and Tom began rotating his pelvis as the book suggested.  Tight
as Tuvok was, Tom found the rhythm of his hips brought him in much
more intimate contact with his lover, and the sensation of velvet
caresses, of primal damp, offered an indescribably delicious bliss.
In his mind's eye Tom could sense the golden haze now rushing toward
him, offering a heaven of sensation.

Tom rocked, and rocked, withdrew a little, thrust forward, breaths
sounding more and more ragged.  Tuvok sensed the strong muscles in
Tom's backside and thighs driving them both forward. He could hear Tom
grinding his teeth with effort, he could hear gasps at the
excruciatingly sensual friction.  Finally, Tom plunged forward as hard
as he could, instinctively seeking a diamond-hard bliss.  Tuvok
clenched all the muscles in his pelvis in one hard gasp.  He arched
backward uncontrollably as he felt Tom explode inside him, heard Tom
drag his name from his throat.

Tom collapsed on the bed with a heaving chest, a fine sheen of sweat
covering him.

Tuvok dropped beside him, sliding one arm under his back and running
the other across his chest.  With his head cushioned on Tom's
shoulder, he could trail his eyes down his beloved's body. Though he
now was growing accustomed to Tom unclothed, years of living among
people whose skins were either green or brown still left him
uncomfortably aware of the curious pink of some humans.

He could remember his first days off Vulcan, among humans, not knowing
where to look -- he had met humans before, of course, but to be so
surrounded by them, by their emotions, raw, unshielded, some with
those inconvenient yellow or pink bodies that showed whatever emotions
they somehow failed to express in words and posture.  Hardly bearable,
at first.  At least the brown-skinned humans retained their dignity,
being mostly spared those awful red flushes the others suffered.

He ran his long fingers through the hair on Tom's chest -- just one
masculine sign among many.  Tuvok traced the outlines of the muscles
lying beneath the skin, the folds of Tom's elbow, a freckle here, a
light scar there.  Light skins were like the pages of a book, he
thought -- one could read a person's history if one knew what to look
for.  Surrounded in the mental calm Tom was radiating, Tuvok half-
dozed for a short time.

Tom had turned his head sideways, to study a silver candle flickering
gently in the room's air currents.  He watched it burn steadily, a
very businesslike candle -- nothing seemed to disturb it.  Kind of
like Tuvok.  The man was a rock -- he seemed unfazed by the enormous
journeythat lay ahead.  Remarkable.

Tom turned to look at Tuvok.  A sexy body and a soul full of wisdom
and integrity -- who could resist that?  All his life he'd met people
who were one or the other or neither -- until this particular man.
Wow.  Hard to believe, but ... Tom tightened a hand around Tuvok's
wrist as if to check whether he was still there.

Roused by the gesture, Tuvok stirred gently on the bed.   He studied
Tom, shot an eyebrow up, and Tom grinned happily. "You know it," he
replied.

Tuvok slipped off the bed and retrieved a cloth from the bathroom.
Gently he sponged Tom down a bit, then himself.  He lay down again
next to his human and wove his arms and legs around Tom's.  Tom
grabbed the book with one hand and said half-teasingly, "Next time we
activate the holograms, eh? That should provide quite a floor-show."

"I find watching you perfectly adequate."

"In that case, let's try a few more positions, eh?  You still have a
ways to go, pal."

"Orgasm is not a requirement."

"No, but ... you accept so few things from me, Tuvok.  Let me give you
this."

Tuvok nodded in comfortable acknowledgement.  Tom held the book open
where both could see it, and in a satin voice he read, "Next,
'Jrimbhitaka, the Yawning.  This position makes deep penetration
possible'."  Tuvok studied the line-drawing that accompanied the text,
then turned the book sideways and examined it more closely.  He
flipped the text shut and said, "As you wish. I believe this position
is physiologically possible."

The human grinned and handed him the small bottle.  Tuvok shook his
head and tossed it back, and Tom retorted, "Ok, you're the commander."
He poured out some of the contents and began to smooth the ointment
over Tuvok's semi-hard cock. At Tom's persistent touch the Vulcan felt
the blood rushing in, and they both observed Tuvok's skin color a
darker brownish green.  Carefully Tom ran sensitive fingers back and
forth, again easing the sheath backward to reveal the glowing head,
and then the aroused and arousing ridges.  The pilot's fingers knew
the most sensitive spots, as did his tongue.  He found them all, each
time.

At last Tom judged his lover ready.  He rolled onto his back and
spread his legs.  He lay luxuriating on the soft sheets, gazing with
open face at the man now hovering above him.  Tuvok knelt purposefully
between Tom's legs and caressed the other's calves, instep, strong
toes.  He cupped Tom's heels and circled his ankles with misleadingly
slender fingers.  He curved the backs of his hands against Tom's high
arches, then leaned over and kissed each knee, each shin, each ankle.
He nuzzled the skin behind each knee with his nose and lips, traced it
with his tongue.  At last, as Tom was beginning to writhe and groan,
he smoothly swung the human's legs up in the air and held them there,
gesturing for Tom to brace his thighs with his hands.

Tuvok found words hard to come by, as he gazed expectantly at the
younger man.  But Tom, not missing a beat, said from low in his
throat, " 'Deep penetration....'  I want to feel you, Tuvok, let me
feel you as far in as you can get..."

Competently Tuvok slipped a pillow underneath Tom and moved so that he
was just against Tom's ass.  His cock seemed to have a life of its
own. Tuvok slid a lubricated finger into his lover, then another, and
paused to relish the sensation.

He loved the act of preparing his lover, of feeling his lover yield to
him, his body allowing passage to the secret of secrets.  Even his
learned Vulcan constructs couldn't always maintain control.  Like now,
when the urge to lunge forward, to join himself and bind himself to
the human was overwhelming.  Tuvok drew his fingers out and gazed at
Tom's blissful face, watched Tom's eyes narrow as he felt the Vulcan
begin to slide into him, to thrust, to struggle to master the friction
that temporarily owned them.

It felt odd to have Tom's legs leaning up against his chest, but the
book was certainly correct -- this posture allowed for extremely deep
penetration. Tuvok rocked his hips against his lover, sensed the body
temperature of the normally cool human rising.  So tight, so
hot--almost too tight, but they had learned together to manage, and
Tuvok basked in the arousing heat of Tom's body.

With eyes closed Tuvok fingered the strong legs he held against him.
Tom watched Tuvok lose himself in the sensations, and rejoiced in his
heart that his lover felt so comfortable.  The strength of the Vulcan
muscles, the power driving them both forward toward release, better
not to think about it--seeing Tuvok like this was almost stimulation
enough.

After a bit, Tuvok rested for a moment and then said, "Let us try
'Venudaritaka,' often known as 'splitting the bamboo'.  I believe it
was an especially valued skill among courtesans centuries ago."

"And when did *you* hear of this?" said a surprised Tom.

"I have been doing some reading, also."

Tuvok eased one of Tom's legs down to the bed but kept the other
against his chest.  Continuing to rock his pelvis against Tom's groin,
he lifted the leg that had been lying on the bed at the same time he
lowered the leg that had been against his chest. Tom caught on
quickly, and began rhythmically raising and lowering his legs.  Tuvok
was stunned at the change in sensation, as he felt Tom clench around
him, and felt Tom's pelvis roll his cock back and forth.  He could
feel the ridges hard against Tom's inner walls, and he was shuddering
all over with the immense stimulation of the rolling motion.

Tom flung his arms apart on the bed and arched his head backward. "Ah,
Tuvok, so close, so close..."

Tuvok withdrew abruptly and whispered in bare control, "Not yet."

He slid off the end of the bed and knelt on the floor.  Tom took his
cue and slid along the bed so that his feet were on the floor and his
groin was against Tuvok's.  They had found this position gave them the
greatest mutual pleasure: Tuvok loved running his eyes all over
Tom--his chest, his face, his groin--and to feel his strong thighs
around his own waist.  For a human, Tom had turned out to be very
strong.

"Computer, illumination off," Tuvok ordered.  His lover's light-
colored skin shone faintly in the glow of the numerous candles-- he
looked almost luminous.  Tuvok leaned forward and hugged Tom, planting
kisses on the younger man's stomach at the same time he undulated his
hips.  The human moaned softly, knowing what was coming and wanting it
with his whole heart. Tuvok murmured, "You are very hard."

"Hard like a rock, and paper covers rock, you know."

After a moment Tuvok straightened up and settled his knees firmly on
the floor.  Then he leaned forward and entered Tom with a simple
movement, renewing his claim.

A low satisfied moan escaped Tom's throat, and he laced his fingers
through Tuvok's.  The Vulcan was rotating his hips in a most enticing
manner.  Tom found it hard, oh *so* hard, to concentrate on much of
anything except that sensation.  Tuvok, inside him.  His Vulcan, his
beloved lover, the one who made him complete.  No one had ever made
love to him like this man...

Beginning at last to lose control, Tuvok signaled Tom with a
hand-squeeze.  Tom swiftly wrapped his legs around Tuvok's waist and
matched the plunging of his Vulcan lover's hips. Tom softly whispered
with crystal enunciation, "Fuck me, Tuvok."  Released like a dark
avalanche, Tuvok surged at Tom with all his strength, thrusting,
flowing, hurtling toward him mentally and physically. Just on the
point of a bond-shared orgasm, he compressed a nerve in Tom's neck.
Millimeters shy of a neck-pinch, the constriction made Tom convulse
against Tuvok and drench the other's glistening skin just as he felt
himself filled with burning liquid.  Solar flares licked out of the
glittering haze and seized them both, made a golden riot explode in
their minds, doubled along the bond and doubled again.

The Vulcan collapsed on Tom's chest. Tom wrapped long limbs around
him, to support and comfort Tuvok as he returned to himself.  After a
short time, Tuvok opened his eyes and looked at Tom.  "T'hy'la," was
all he said.  Placing a finger on his lips, Tom replied merely "Yes."

They lay in silence for a bit, drinking in the physical realities of
each other.  After a bit Tom pulled Tuvok back onto the bed with him
and held him close.  He finally turned to Tuvok and said, "I have a
confession to make."

"A confession."

"There's something I've always wanted to do with you, but, well, I
don't know if it's exactly your kind of thing."

"If there is something you desire, the logical thing to do--"

"Yes, I know--the logical thing is to ask for it.  But you know me,
I'm Mr. Human.  You've never accused me of being all *that* logical."
He studied Tuvok for a moment, who regarded him unblinkingly.  "OK,
here goes.  Ever since I noticed how, ah, graceful you are, I've
wanted to dance with you."

"Dance--?"

"Yeah, you know, dance. Ballroom dance, folk dance, that kind of
thing.  Earth kids often study it in one form or another."

"Dancing is not common on Vulcan."

"Don't suppose you folks ever waltz?"

"Waltz?  I do not believe so.  Perhaps you could describe it."

"It'd be easier to show you, come on, hop out."  He hooked Tuvok's
robe off a chair with a finger and wrapped it around his lover.  Tuvok
said nothing but wore what Tom called his "I'm an ironic Vulcan" look.

"Computer," he instructed.  "Music library, 22nd century, Suzuki
quartet No. 4, for chamber ensemble and shakuhachi. Cue track."

Slipping the clasps of his robe into place, the Vulcan came to stand
in front of his companion.  Tom said, "Ok, look, this has a three-beat
rhythm--one-two-three, one-two-three.  Got it?"

"In my time I have successfully counted to three."

"Bet you were voted Mr. Comedy in your Academy class, weren't you?"
He winked at Tuvok and began to arrange his arms.  "Look, normally the
'man' would lead and the 'woman' would follow, but we have sort of a
problem in that department. I'll lead, since you haven't done this
before.  Put your left hand on my shoulder and your right hand in my
left."

He placed his left hand on the other's waist and ran his thumb against
the robe's fine fabric, smiling at Tuvok.  A raised eyebrow replied.

"When the music starts, just follow what I do.  Computer, start
music."

The sound of the shakuhachi softly filled the room, followed in a
three-beat by the stringed instruments, and Tom began to move them in
a sweeping circle.  He'd never danced with such a tall partner before,
and he found that they covered ground amazingly quickly.  He also
found that Tuvok was a good natural dancer, picking up immediately
what Tom was doing.

The air currents they stirred set the string of paper birds over
Tuvok's desk twirling and swinging, making a dance of their own.

After a short time Tuvok broke off, saying, "Computer, halt music."

Tom looked at him in surprise. "What's up?"

Tuvok padded across the room toward his dresser.  Tom watched the
muscles stretch and contract in the other's bare feet--long arches,
strong toes.  The same delicate fade-to-brown as on his hands.

"I also have a present for you."  Tuvok fingered the drawer open and
withdrew a fabric square.  He crossed to the human and presented it on
upturned palms:  Tom unfolded it.  It rippled between his fingers and
fell almost to the floor--it was a silk scarf, white, with fringe.

Tom laughed.  "It's an old pilot's scarf!"

"Not old, I replicated it.  I noted in antique accounts of flying that
early pilots sometimes wore these.  I thought you might enjoy
the--historical component."

Tom grinned.  "This is great!  Thanks, Tuvok, I don't know what to
say.  I always wanted one of these--actually, I'd like the prop plane
that goes with it, but I don't think it'd fit in the drawer."

Tuvok draped the scarf around his lover's neck, looped it over itself
and let the ends hang onto Tom's chest.  After a moment's thought he
flipped both ends around onto Tom's back.

"Computer, resume music."  He picked up Tom's hands and put the left
on his own shoulder, held the right.  "Where were we?"

They began their graceful turn around the room again, the ends of the
scarf floating free and swinging out a bit from Tom's shoulders on the
turns.

Tom chuckled.  "We make quite a pair:  a two-meter Vulcan, barefoot,
in a beautiful blue robe, a pale-skinned human buck- naked except for
a silk scarf.  If the Starfleet recruiters could see us now..."

He stopped them in front of Tuvok's three-quarter-length mirror. They
moved closer together, chest to chest, cheek to cheek, heads turned
toward their candle-lit reflection.  Along the bond Tom quietly
murmured, " 'Dark dreams are not always nightmares / Shadows too pale
for the day / Light a fire inside...' "

With a kiss Tuvok stopped him. "Let us follow the poet's advice."

---

The End