Disclaimer time once again! Twenty-second verse same as the 
first . .everybody *sing*:

I don't own these characters, (chorus) Paramount does!
I don't own this venue, (chorus) Paramount does!
I am making no money off of this, (chorus) Paramount does not 
either!

This story involves sex between two men, aka: slash.  If that is *not* 
your cup of tea, sweet as it is, then don't read it!  (simple, ain't it??)  
Feedback is *very* much appreciated, and always answered.  
Flames will be passed around to friends and chuckled over.  :)

This is the sequel to 'Adversaries', 'Allies', 'Acknowledgement', and 
'Argument'.

'Advantage' by Amirin


****************************************************

Tom staggered into the corridor, heading back to his quarters, 
grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes.  Gods, he was 
exhausted.  Well, no wonder, it was nearly midnight.  

He and Harry had worked, and talked, well into the late evening 
hours. Tom had done his best to convince his friend that they were 
still exactly that, friends.  And good ones.  It hadn't been easy; Harry 
couldn't believe that Tom could still be comfortable with him, 
knowing he was in love with him. But Tom wasn't about to let the best 
friend he'd ever had, just walk out of his life.  

Finally, Harry seemed willing to take his word for it, when he'd said 
that they could remain friends, because he had *no* intention of 
letting them be anything else.  Tom had missed the hurt that had 
flared in Harry's eyes at that statement.  

He'd meant that they'd never be *just* acquaintances, people who 
nodded to each other in passing, but nothing any closer than that. 
Harry'd taken the comment to mean that they'd never be more to 
each other.  Unbeknownst to Tom, he'd decided that it was better 
than nothing, and probably more than he deserved.

Tom had been so relieved, when Harry seemed to accept that their 
friendship was intact, but he had no idea what thoughts were roiling 
his friend's mind.  Even though they'd talked more than worked, 
they'd still gotten a hell of a lot accomplished.  By the time they'd quit 
for the day, it had been nearly 1900 hours, making for an 
unbelievably long shift.  Then, they'd had dinner with the Captain, and 
that had turned into a four-hour-long affair.  

Tom now cringed at that word, remembering the fight he and 
Chakotay had had *way* too many hours ago, about he and Harry, 
before deliberately trying to wipe it from his memory. As tired as he 
was, it wasn't that hard. But he knew he'd never sleep well tonight, if 
he didn't think of something happier.  Harry.

He grinned sleepily.  Harry had damned near dozed off in the 
Captain's Ready Room and he'd had to all but carry his friend back 
to his quarters.  Harry had been deeply in the fuzzy area just this side 
of sleep and totally unaware of what he was doing or saying . . .


*******************


"I can walk, you know," Harry mumbled, as Tom tightened his grip 
around his friend's shoulders and steered him down the corridor. 
Thankfully, they were almost at Harry's quarters, which meant that in 
less than five minutes, Tom would be crawling into his own soft, 
warm bed.  Probably alone, but he refused to think about that now.

"Of course you can," Tom said fondly, grinning at Harry, who 
remained oblivious.  "You're very good at that.  Some might even say 
talented."

This last crack earned him a tired glare from Harry, who snorted 
before leaning back against him. This was all too familiar, reminding 
him of the times Harry had helped him back to his own quarters, 
suffering the effects of too much beer at Sandrine's or too many 
drinks in the resort.  Tom still had trouble believing that anything 
served with a paper umbrella could pack such a punch.

Harry sighed contentedly, enjoying the opportunity fate, and the late 
hour, had handed him.  He leaned into Tom as they came around a 
turn a little too fast and felt his friend's strong arms tighten even 
more, holding him upright.  He wasn't *that* exhausted, but it was 
close.  He was, however, not about to let the chance to touch the 
man he loved go to waste.  <My Momma didn't raise no fool> he 
thought, before he started chuckling.

Tom looked at Harry, wondering what on earth was so amusing, 
before joining in the laughter, simply because he could.  He stopped 
walking and propped Harry up against the wall, one hand on his chest 
to hold him there, while he entered the access code and got the 
door open.  Taking a hold of his still giggling friend, he headed into 
Harry's quarters, bringing the lights on ten percent.

Harry was aware, more or less, that Tom had walked him into his 
bedroom but it didn't really register until he felt himself hit the 
mattress.  A strong hand pulled him upright to a sitting position and 
he groaned.

"Unless you *want* to sleep in your uniform, I'd work with me, Har," 
Tom groused in good humor. "And trust me, you *don't* want to 
sleep in your uniform."

"Of course I trust you," Harry mumbled, as Tom's hands came to 
undo his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders.  "I'm the one who loves 
you, remember?"

Tom paused briefly.  Man, Harry was out of it.  He tossed the jacket 
onto a nearby chair, and knelt in front of his friend to pull the boots 
off his feet.

"I remember," Tom said quietly, looking up at the man, grinning as a 
yawn nearly cracked Harry's jaw.  He reached forward to tug the 
turtleneck off, and took the tank-top along with it.  Harry started to fall 
backward again, but he grabbed him, hauling him to his feet, so he 
could get the slacks undone and off.  He quickly found he couldn't 
hold Harry upright *and* get the rest of his uniform off and sighed.

"Harry, put your arms around my neck and hang on," Tom said 
quietly, leaning his friend against his chest and moving the man's 
arms where they needed to go.

Harry leaned his head on Tom's shoulder and sighed in soft delight. 
"You smell good," he murmured, yawning again, wondering how far 
he could push it, before Tom got wise to the fact that he wasn't as 
half-asleep as the man thought. 

Tom closed his eyes as Harry's warm breath coasted by his ear and 
tried to suppress a shiver.  Why was he reacting like this?  Just 
because his best friend was half-naked, arms around his neck, 
breathing hotly into his ear?  He sighed, knowing he was simply too 
damned tired to think about it, and continued trying to get Harry's 
pants off.  He swallowed sharply at the thought, sternly telling himself 
he didn't mean it like *that*.  Fumbling with suddenly thick fingers, he 
brought his mind back to the task at hand.  Cooler air hit Harry's legs 
and he looked down, to find Tom had gotten his pants unfastened 
and had dropped them to his ankles.

"You're very good at that," he muttered tiredly, grinning helplessly.  
"Some might even say talented."

Tom snorted and Harry's eyes brightened briefly, but Tom never 
caught it as he chuckled.

"Thanks, Har.  I'm a man of *many* talents," he quipped, as he 
usually did, before remembering how Harry felt about him. He 
sighed; the last thing he wanted to do was torment the man.  

"I know you are," Harry was answering, now, voice deliberately 
slurred.  "I've been telling everyone for the longest time," he said, 
subtly reminding Tom of all the times Harry had stood by him, even 
when it meant standing there alone.

Tom carefully let Harry fall to the bed, again, and the man groaned. 
He moved the covers out of the way and half-rolled, half-carried, 
Harry into place beneath them, before flicking them back over his 
friend.

Harry caught Tom's hand before he turned away and tugged gently. 
Tom sat down next to him, looking at him quizzically.  Now that his 
head was actually on the pillow, he *was* tired, but didn't want to let 
Tom go just yet.

"I'm sorry," he started, before Tom hushed him, not letting him finish.

"I told you, you have *nothing* to be sorry for," Tom barely got out, 
before Harry went on, as if he'd never spoken.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you kiss me, earlier.  Wish I had," he whispered, 
eyes closing, then coming part-way open at a touch on his head.

Tom stroked his friend's hair off his forehead, getting it out of his 
eyes.  So soft.  He thought about what Harry had said.  The man 
probably wouldn't even remember, tomorrow, and no one else would 
ever know.  Damning himself for his weakness *and* his curiosity, he 
leaned down, brushing his lips over Harry's forehead.  He sighed, the 
warm breath stirring a few strands of hair and he inhaled sharply, 
moving down until he was directly over Harry's mouth. 

Harry watched him through supposedly sleep-slitted eyes, but the 
soft kiss still nearly took him by surprise.  He sighed against warm 
lips, drawing a hand up to Tom's head, curling along the back of it, 
holding him still, his movements intentionally clumsy.  He made a 
faintly querying sound, then responded with a near-silent groan, as 
Tom's mouth opened ever so slightly, the tip of a hot tongue just 
touching his lips.  He met it with his own, shuddered as Tom's groan 
went through him, and tried to get Tom's tongue to follow his as they 
slowly danced against one another.

Tom realized the whole 'just a quick kiss, just to see what it's like' 
idea was rapidly getting out of hand. He groaned again, quietly, 
forcing himself to back away.  He kept his eyes shut for a moment 
and didn't see Harry's raking over him, didn't see the faintly 
triumphant smile, didn't see the satisfaction as glowing brown eyes 
took in the swollen mouth, flushed face and quickened breathing. 
Harry's eyes were closed again, his lips still parted from Tom's kiss, 
by the time he opened his own eyes, sighing in guilty delight.  He 
dropped a quick kiss to Harry's head, again, before squeezing the 
hand still holding his and releasing it.  Rising slowly, painfully aware 
that he didn't really *want* to leave, he moved shed clothing and 
boots out of the way, so Harry wouldn't stumble over them if he 
should get up during the night.  He made his way to the door, 
ordering the computer to turn off the lights, completely.

"Good night, Harry," he said quietly, before tripping the sensor to 
open the door, and heading out down the corridor, nearly falling over 
his own two feet, to his quarters . . .

He tiredly hit the access code and made his way inside, blearily 
startled to see the lights still on, dimly, just enough to make out the 
sleeping form of Chakotay on his couch.  His exhausted brain only 
saw that Chakotay had chosen to spend the night *there*, as 
opposed to his bed, and skipped over the part that acknowledged 
that the man *could* have spent the night in his own quarters, if 
Chakotay hadn't wanted to be with him. He made his way silently to 
his bed, stripped out of his clothing and crawled blissfully between 
the cool sheets, covering himself as he had covered Harry just 
minutes ago, before the kiss.

He groaned softly at the thought, as his senses processed all of the 
experience, forcing him to relive the feel, scent and taste of his best 
friend. Gods, he hoped Harry wouldn't remember it; he didn't want 
the man to think he was a cock-tease.  He hadn't meant to be, but 
that last whispered regret of Harry's had dealt his flagging resistance 
a fatal blow.  And he'd been too exhausted to fight it.  Not that he'd 
really wanted to, if he was totally honest with himself.  If it wasn't for 
the man sleeping on his sofa, he'd be with Harry now, and that 
realization didn't surprise him nearly as much as it should have. 

Tom rolled onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around the pillow 
beneath his head and sighed, the turmoil of his thoughts easing 
enough to let him finally go to sleep.

A faint touch on his back brought him into awareness as a gentle 
hand ran over his bare shoulder, caressed the skin over his 
backbone, and feathered over his ass and down the length of his 
thigh.  He didn't want to roll over and stop the person touching him, 
so he simply turned his head and opened his eyes, smiling up at 
Chakotay.  Until he realized it wasn't Chakotay he was looking at.  He 
saw Harry grin back at him, before the warm smile faded, and the 
man stretched out beside him, silently running a hand over his flesh.

Tom rolled onto his back, his eyes asking questions his mouth was 
about to vocalize, when Harry leaned forward and tenderly claimed it 
with his own.  He sighed, moving his arms around the warm body of 
his friend who, he suddenly realized, was as naked as he was.  Legs 
joined arms in wrapping around Harry, as if afraid the man would 
vanish on him, and a soft groan made its way from Harry's lips to 
Tom's ear.  

He moaned quietly and flipped them both over, Harry seemingly 
content to let him take the lead, as his hands moved feverishly over 
the heated body writhing under them.  Harry's hard cock brushed up 
against his own and the groan that followed felt like it came from his 
toes.  

Tom was totally incoherent, incapable of rational speech, his mind 
too overwhelmed to allow more than a heartfelt moan or two to pass 
his lips.  Something hot and wet curled around his ear, reducing his 
brain even further to mush, and he arched into Harry, allowing his 
friend's wonderfully creative mouth to wander down his throat before 
lavishing attention on his lightly-furred chest.  A tongue swirling 
around one hardened nipple, and a leg hooked around his own, 
brought him onto his back again and Harry's judicious use of his 
teeth startled a growl from him, as he thrashed under the wickedly 
delightful torment.

Chakotay stared into the darkness, wondering what had wakened 
him.  He hadn't intended to fall asleep waiting for Tom to return, but 
the late hour and his own tiredness had pulled him under.  He was 
wondering if Tom was back, and why he hadn't wakened him, when 
he heard a harsh groan coming from Tom's bedroom.  He was on 
his feet like a shot, and standing in the entranceway before he'd 
drawn a second breath.  What he saw took it clean away.  Tom, 
naked, hard as a rock, moving around on the bed as if being 
ravished by an incredibly skillful phantom lover.  He grinned, rapidly 
skinning out of his clothing, before joining the younger man.  "It's 
been too damned long for either of us," Chakotay murmured quietly, 
sliding carefully over Tom, to avoid shocking him into wakefulness. 
The feel of Tom's body twisting and squirming under his, brought a 
groan from his own lips, before they fastened onto one of Tom's 
nipples and sucked roughly.  Hands that had been clenched in the 
sheets a second ago, immediately came to his head, holding him 
there, as he continued the sweet torture, switching to the other nipple 
when Tom bucked up under him.  Nails scratched lightly down his 
back, across his shoulders and he bit back a soft cry, burying his 
face into Tom's throat, instead.  He nibbled along the pulse point, 
nuzzling the other man until Tom started moving determinedly 
against him, and he gasped as a strong hand found its way to his 
cock and began a familiar rhythm.

Chakotay snaked a hand between them, fingers unerringly finding 
Tom's hardness and he stroked him, rapidly bringing the pace to 
what he knew Tom liked, and needed, to get off.  Fingers sharply 
gripped his shoulder, as Tom held on, eyes still closed, face 
tightened and flushed, the man breathtakingly beautiful in his arousal. 
Chakotay found Tom's mouth with his own and hungrily devoured it, 
hands speeding up until Tom cried out into his mouth, body jerking 
spasmodically against his, when his climax overtook him. Tom's 
hand tightened just enough, and Chakotay followed him into orgasm, 
moving harshly as his body emptied itself into his lover's hand.  
Tom exhaled softly as his lover moved off of him, after a brief rest, 
to lay at his side.  "We should have done this a long time ago," he 
murmured sleepily, cuddling in close, absorbing the heat emanating 
from the man next to him as warm, strong arms encircled him.  "Our 
schedules just weren't cooperating," Chakotay said, not accusingly, 
just matter-of-factly, but his hand paused in its journey down Tom's 
bare back when the man suddenly froze in his arms.


****************************end