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

Disclaimer time once again!  One-hundred-and-fifty-third 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, (well, mostly) aka: slash.  If
that is *not* your cup of...tea, sweet as it is <g>, 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.  :)

Many thanks once again to Ally Lanart for the anatomy lessons.  Yummy! 

Sequel to Consanguinity and Exsanguination.  Third (and possibly the 
last) in the Bound In Blood series.

'Sanguinary' by Amirin <groh@iquest.net>


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


The look on the captain's face as I turn around is a study in
contradiction.  Open horror, shock...fascination.  

That surprises me.  Truly.  I thought Tom would be the only one able 
to look at me with that particular expression gracing his features.

Anyway, I feel Tom's hand on my shoulder, trying to urge me back around
toward him, but I ignore it.  He gives up after a futile moment of
attempting to move me forcibly and just takes my hand in his as he 
slides along the biobed, closer to me.  I appreciate the support but 
now have to somehow keep from clenching my fingers or I'll grind his to 
powder.

I gaze past the Captain to find Tuvok looking at me, even more 
inscrutable than usual.  The slightest twitch of the eyebrow, anyone 
else would have missed it completely, a faint nod, and he sighs, his 
hands clasped behind his back, away from the phaser he's carrying.  And 
that's when it hits me.  

He knows.  Or remembers.  Whatever.  

His sharp eyes see the recognition of that fact in mine and he 
acknowledges my realization by accepting it in silence.  And he is 
accepting it.  If I were any less terrified, tears would be filling 
my eyes right now. 

Don't you see?  His stance, though formal as ever, is relaxed.  His 
hands are as far away from his weapon as they can be.  He knows I'm no 
threat.  To anyone.  And that small amount of faith means everything to 
me.  The Chief of Security has a vampire on his ship, loose among the 
people he's sworn to protect, and he knows he has nothing to fear from 
me.

I find myself hoping with everything I am that my captain knows it, 
too.  I can't even speak, to reassure her that the man she knows and 
trusts still exists inside the creature with the fangs and the 
blood-red eyes.  Which are currently looking at the floor until her 
softly incredulous voice brings them up again to meet hers.

"Harry?"  

Strong as ever.  Why did I imagine it wouldn't be?  The woman has faced 
the Borg, Vidiians, Kazon, and Hirogen without hardly a flinch.  Why 
would a vampire give her any pause?

"Captain," I murmur around the teeth filling my mouth and thickening my
voice and her eyes widen slightly.  "I didn't know how to tell you..."

"And I wouldn't have let him," Tom chimes in strongly.  "Not yet, 
anyway," he adds wryly and sighs, fingers chafing warmth into mine.  
Now, her attention is focused on him.

"We were trying to find a cure, hoping it would make telling you...
unnecessary," he explains and her glare pins the doctor as I step
forward.  To her credit, she doesn't move away from me.

"The Doc didn't know, Captain," I say quietly.  "We were working on it
privately, on the holodeck."

"And what have you found out?" she asks, the grim look in her eyes
indicating her reluctance to hear that there isn't a cure to be found.

"It's completely rewritten Harry's DNA," Tom tells her.  "I don't 
think we can cure it, anymore than we could cure you of being human."

She nods slowly, frowning, thinking.  I don't need enhanced hearing to 
hear the wheels turning.  I know they are.  And I cringe inwardly as 
the gears slip into place and remind her of where she is and why she's 
here and why Tom's here and then they grind to a halt the instant she 
figures out what really happened to Tom.  And those shrewd eyes meet 
mine, measuring, probing, and it's all I can do not to flinch from the 
intensity of her regard.

"Tom's accident?"  

Quietly asked, voice deeper than usual with concern and dread.

"Was no accident," I admit, taking full responsibility.  "He felt he 
had to do it, to keep me alive."

"Like there was a choice, Har?" his voice grates softly in my ear, made
harsh with remembered fear.  "The only other option was watching you 
slowly starve to death," and he launches into rapid speech, full warp, 
to defend his action.  And my inaction.

"Captain, I had no choice, *none*.  I'd do it again in a heartbeat, if
necessary, to keep him alive.  I'd do *anything* for Harry.  Anything."

Rarely have I heard him speak with so much passion.  Wonderful.  *Now* 
my eyes are filling...

"He's been feeding on your...blood," the captain murmurs, swallowing 
her natural distaste.

"Which gives us *both* life, Captain.  And I've got plenty of it," Tom
tells her in that tone of quiet appeal that's so damned hard to resist.
Add that to the fear-filled blue eyes pleading for understanding and 
it's practically impossible.  

"As long as the hemoglobin regenerators are functioning," the doctor
reminds us all just a little too acerbically.  

"You don't have a portable unit?" she asks us, brows knitting together.  
I could almost laugh.  I've become yet another challenge for her to 
overcome.  A problem to solve.  It's so...perfect.

"We're still a few rations short, Captain," Tom admits.  

"We didn't realize how soon the need for one would become urgent," I 
say quietly around retracting fangs and blink quickly to clear my eyes. 
It's no longer necessary but it *was* the easiest way to tell her, to 
have her see for herself what I've become.

"What else do you need?" she asks with some trepidation, like she's 
none too sure she actually wants to hear the answer.

"Nothing, really, Captain," I say after a moment's thought.

"You don't need to find a cure?"

Tom's quick inhalation at her challenging tone seems much louder than 
it is, I'm sure.  I try to smile gently at her, the fangs back where 
they belong, for the moment.

"I'm growing used to being what I am," I admit to her and to myself for 
the first time, aloud.  It doesn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it 
would.  "Tom's support and acceptance have played a major part in 
that."  

I smile as his head rests against my arm and my fingers move to caress 
his hair of their own volition, his warm smile emerging to further 
encourage mine.  

"I am no longer human, Captain," I tell her softly, the words only 
stinging a little bit.  Maybe stinging the tiny part that *is* still 
human, after all.

"The hell you're not," Tom growls insistently, turning my face toward 
him.  "You're just as human as you ever were, Har.  I saw what you went 
through when you tried to deal with this by yourself.  Where do you 
think I've *been*?  I've watched the agonizing, the guilt, the despair, 
all of it, these last few weeks."

And when I would interrupt, he cuts me off and goes on, persuading, 
cajoling.

"Your heart is human, Harry.  I've heard it, beating as strongly as 
ever, when my blood roars through your veins.  It's human.  Believe 
me."

I don't even want to see the look on the captain's face at that.  I 
know she's trying to deal with this as best she can.  Being slapped in 
the face with my dietary habits won't make it any easier for her.

But the worry ebbs out of me when warm, strong arms wrap around me and 
pull me near and I sigh as the sound of the heart that keeps us both 
alive fills my hearing.  Silence and comfort for a moment, fingers 
carding through the hair at the nape of my neck, a soft kiss at my 
temple, and he's releasing me slowly, keeping hold of my hand.  

The captain's voice is a cautious intrusion.

"Harry, I'd like the doctor to give you a complete examination."

And my eyes widen with fear and shock, meeting hers.  I can almost hear 
Tom snarling.  But then her hand comes to my shoulder and her smile is
hesitant, wry, yet genuine.

"He's going to need some baseline studies, to determine what's normal 
for you, now.  In case of injury or illness."

She's right and I acknowledge it with a grateful nod.

"I also want you coming in daily, until you're completely recovered.  
About a week, or so..."

I'm not sure if she's asking me or telling me, but I nod again.  "Aye,
Captain."

"Tom, I need you to give the doctor all the research you've done, so 
far.  Should there ever be a problem, in future.  He'll keep it 
completely confidential."

Tom replies with a "Yes, Ma'am," after checking with me and my nod of
permission does not go unnoticed.  We're all aware that if I hadn't 
given it, that research would have been destroyed.  Have I mentioned 
what this man's loyalty does to me?

"I also want you to let him know what you need.  *All* of it," she says
firmly.  "Doctor, you are to make sure they get it."

I can almost see her inwardly nodding with satisfaction, problem 
solved, challenge answered and won.  Until the final difficulty rears 
its ugly head.

"Harry, what do you want to do about the crew?"

Shit.  My breathing speeds up and I try to remain calm.  Frightened 
eyes seek out Tom's and his total acceptance of whatever my decision 
will be slows my thundering heart somewhat.

"The senior staff need to be told," I answer slowly.  "Chakotay, 
B'Elanna.  Seven and Neelix.  I just don't know how to tell the others 
without it sounding like a joke.  Or a nightmare."  I think it's 
enough.  For now.

"We'll work on it, Harry."

She allows me this.  I feel ridiculously grateful.  My sigh does little 
to ease the tightening in my chest, but Tom's hand rubbing small 
circles on my back does wonders.  How I love this man.

"Can Mr. Paris be released from sickbay?" she asks the doctor for us.

"Certainly, with strict instructions to rest.  Two days off duty.  Get
plenty to eat..." he answers by rote.

"I know the drill, Doc," Tom interrupts with a grin and the captain's 
looks almost normal in response.  Not quite, but almost.

"Both of you, get some rest.  Doctor, I want the regenerator beamed to
their quarters as soon as possible.  We'll inform the senior staff 
whenever you're ready, Harry."

"Soon, Captain.  After we get some sleep," I promise her.  

"Let me know," she replies softly and I'm struck once again by her 
mercy and understanding.  Not to mention her courage.

"Captain?" I call after her as she turns to leave and she whips back
around.  I smile to put her as much at ease as I can.  "Thank you.  For
everything."

"You're welcome, Harry," she answers and looks curious.  I try not to 
laugh out loud.  I wondered when that scientific mind would wake up, 
now that the immediate danger's gone, the initial shock's worn off.

"I'd like to speak to you sometime, privately.  There are questions..." 

Finishing seems beyond her and I rush to let her off the hook.

"Anything you want to know.  Anytime."

Her grin is slightly mischievous and her eyes are warm again when she 
turns to go, Tuvok following after her with an incline of his head.  I 
bet I'll be hearing from him, later, too.  She's not the only one with 
questions that need answering.  And it's fine.  Better than I hoped; 
the hardest part's over and relaxing doesn't feel quite so impossible 
anymore.

"Okay?" I ask Tom and he nods and slides off the bio-bed.

"Stay in touch, gentlemen," the Doc warns us, frowning smile on his 
face.

"Bet on it," Tom answers, before leading me out of sickbay and down the
corridor to our quarters.


~~~


I can't deny how much it bothers me.  Not just what Harry has endured, 
what he's become, but how *easily* he lied about it.  To all of us.  
And he wasn't the only one.

Tom knew.  And said nothing.  

I never really realized, before, the extent of his devotion to Ensign 
Kim.  It appears to be total.  For heavens' sake, how could it be any 
more total?  Harry *feeds* off of him.  Only him, I know.  And Tom is 
more than willing to let him.  Let him, hell, he's been doing 
everything in his power to ensure that it continues. 

I don't know how I feel about that.

I saw the way the two of them were.  Connected.  Together.  The
reassurances, the little touches, the looks that conveyed so much...  

I just don't know...

And Tuvok.  He murmured to me just before Harry turned around that he 
knew what had happened.  And advised me to remain calm, of all things. 
I wonder when his memory returned.  How long he's been aware of
Harry's...transformation.  How long *he* intended to keep me in the 
dark.

The dark.  Yet *another* thing.  Nighttime away missions only, for 
Harry now.  Not that we have to deal with *that* any time soon, given 
our present circumstances.  Still...I recall the extreme measures taken 
by the alien creatures to protect themselves from sunlight...

This time, Harry really *is* an alien.  Accommodating the...limitations 
of someone of his...species will be a challenge.  But what about the 
areas in which he excels, beyond all explanation?  What do I do about 
those?

How many new gifts has he been forced to adjust to having, now?  
Strength?  Speed?  How much of the ancient legend and lore now applies 
to my favorite ensign?  How much of the legend and lore *comes* from 
these very beings, a race of creatures of which Harry now finds himself 
an unwilling member?  

My head hurts, just thinking about it.  

Harry is no horror, but I just don't know how some of the crew will 
react to finding out what he's become.  A few of their reactions will 
be predictable.  Dismay.  Fear.  Curiosity.  In all honesty, these are 
*my* reactions.  How *I* handle this will show the crew how *they* 
should.  

The question is...how do I do that?


~~~


We head back to our quarters under more of Harry's steam than my own.  
I'm trying not to just let him carry me; I don't want to seem that 
weak, even though I could curl up on the floor right here in the 
turbolift and nap and be perfectly content about it.  But I also don't 
want to have to deal with the guilt that I know would cross his face 
when he saw how bad off I was.

I did what I had to do.  I know it.  He knows it; he might not like it, 
but he knows it.  Hell, even the *captain* knows it.  And I'd do it 
again.  Fortunately, I don't think I'll have to.  I would, though.  In 
an instant.

Janeway knows.  

I keep turning that over and over in my head and I'm kind of surprised 
that I'm not under restraints in sickbay pending a psych eval, with 
Harry in the brig for assault.  I know that seems harsh but it was the 
worst case scenario, the one I dreaded, the one I would've grabbed 
Harry, the Flyer, and taken off for parts unknown to avoid if I'd 
thought it had a chance in hell of happening.

It didn't.  Thank god.

I don't know what she's thinking, right now.  I don't care.  I don't 
want to know what's going through Tuvok's mind, either, or how much of 
a threat he thinks Harry is to the people on this ship.  I can't deal 
with that, their fear, paranoia, suspicion, prejudice, whatever.  I 
mean, it *looks* like they're giving Har the benefit of the doubt, 
right now, but still.  I don't want anything to upset the balance, you 
know?

Seriously, though, I'm leaving an escape hatch open, just in case 
things get ugly.  Chakotay, the crew, B'Elanna, I don't care where it 
comes from.  Hey, I've seen the vids, all right?  Anyone who gets 
anywhere near Harry with anything resembling a pitchfork or a torch 
will find it shoved up his ass before I grab my vampire and head for 
the galactic hills.  

If that makes me Renfield, so be it.

I hope we have nothing to worry about.  I really do.  But just in case, 
I'm going to be ready.  I'm going to be keeping an eye on this crew.

I owe it to Harry.  And I'm more than willing to do whatever the hell 
it takes to keep him safe.  


~~~


We make it to our quarters, or what we think of as our quarters, and 
Tom sighs with relief.  God, I'm glad we're here.  And I'm glad the 
hiding is over.  A sigh of my own attracts a frown from Tom.

Blue eyes brimming with concern meet mine.  "You look so exhausted," he
murmurs, hand stroking my cheek.

Like he's one to talk.

"It's been a hell of a few days," I whisper back and his grin lights 
the room even brighter. 

His hands move slowly to get me out of my uniform and I catch them,
stilling the protest on his lips with a kiss.  I can feel his body
thrumming with exhaustion, pushed almost to its limits, and my face 
flames with renewed shame at what he was forced to do for me.

"Stop it, Har," he orders, his tone brooks no argument.  "Right now."

"Tom..."

"I mean it.  It isn't your fault.  I did this.  And I'd do it again,
without hesitation, if I had to."

"Don't you think I know that?"  My question reassures him and damns me 
all over again.  "That's part of the problem.  I *let* this happen.  I 
knew damned well that something was wrong and I ignored the signs 
because it was easier to just let you do it."

"It was a question of your *survival*, Harry," his soft protest, so 
logical.

It doesn't help.  At all.

"And I put my survival before yours," I murmur sadly.

I pull him towards me and wrap my hands around his shoulders as lightly 
as I can.

"That will *never* happen again," a promise, carved in stone.  One, I
swear, I'll die before breaking.  "Never."

He flinches at my whisper, drops his eyes, and swallows heavily.  And 
my heart breaks.

"You mean everything to me, Har."

"You mean even more to me."

"Harry..."

"No.  Listen to me.  Without you, I'm dead.  So when I tell you that 
you are my life, please don't argue with me."

He looks stunned for a moment and then he nods, slowly, hearing 
everything that I need him to know.

"Take better care of yourself, in future.  Okay?"

He smiles slightly, eyes warm and beautiful, and his hand touches my 
face like I'm something fragile.

"We'll be fine.  Both of us."

I nod and hear a faint hum as the transporter beams the regenerator 
into our quarters.  He looks faintly surprised at it, then sighs his 
relief and draws me into the warm haven of his arms.

"Hungry?" he asks me, equal parts mischief and genuine inquiry, and I 
shake my head with a grin on my face.  It's about all I can do to keep 
it there, though, with everything that's happened.

His hands move once more to my uniform and I don't fight him this time.
Soft words of reassurance and tenderness are traded for sighs and 
kisses and it's hard to tell who ends up with the better part of the 
deal. 

His touch is infinitely gentle and I'll never understand why he's so
careful with me.  It's not like he could hurt me, even if he tried.

We end up naked quickly and in bed soon after and he slides into my 
arms much the same way that his blood slides down my throat.  Smooth, 
warm.  Sweet.

I find myself wondering if we ever would have come together, if none of
this had happened.  And I still have a hard time figuring out what he's
getting from all this, aside from having a kink stroked and satisfied.  
I mean, really, what are the odds?  I become a vampire and my best 
friend, the man I love most in the universe, has a fang fetish.

And it's not like he could have known about this ahead of time; we 
haven't encountered any other vampires out here that he could have 
realized his need with.

"What *are* you thinking?" he whispers, frowning.

"When did you know?" I wonder aloud and explain further at his puzzled
look.  "That you had a...thing for vampires?"

He seems almost surprised.  "It's not vampires in general, Harry.  It's
just you.  Believe me."

I guess I don't exactly look like I do, so he sighs and goes on.

"If it had been Chakotay, or Tuvok, or anyone else, I'd have taken care 
of getting them the hemoglobin regenerator, but that's about it.  
They'd have been on their own."

I think it's my turn to look surprised.

"The fangs excite me because you've got them," he shrugs, then grins
evilly.  "It's like you've got two miniature cocks to fuck me with, in
addition to the full-sized one I've grown so fond of."

And then, his hand is on me, his point, made, as I rise up hard and hot 
to meet his touch.  I know he's not up for this.  Or, at least, I 
*should*.  But he feels so good, as always, and it's more than I can 
bear when his scent changes from playful to aroused, the heavy musk of 
his body growing heavier and turning red and liquid and salt and sweet 
and I know I'm gone before I even move to roll him under me, hand on 
his cock, as it twitches and pulses and fills with blood beneath my 
fingers.  It occurs to me that I've never fed from him there.  I don't 
know if he could take the pain, though, and I don't want to ask him.

He'd be far too willing to accommodate me, in all likelihood.

His hand touches my face as the other continues to stroke me, coax me, 
like I'm protesting the rush of heat within me as my body aches to 
possess him.  I turn my head to kiss his wrist and taste it, hear it, 
the blood traveling just under the fragile skin, and I am lost.

I look at him, grab his wrist to hold it still, and run my tongue over 
it from thumb to forearm.  Tom's eyes widen slightly as he watches the 
fangs descend.  His hand falters for a moment, then resumes its 
original rhythm, every stroke bringing me closer to completion.  And 
that's when I realize that I'll never be complete without him.  And I 
wonder when he figured it out.  And why he didn't tell me.

His only reaction to my teeth sinking into his wrist is a sharp hiss 
and his body arches under mine as I draw from him that which was 
replaced only hours ago.  I'm not really hungry but it completes the 
circuit between us and I know now, as he does, that it's not quite 
right unless I'm feeding off of him, taking both his blood and his love 
deep inside me.  Both are so unbelievably warm and I know that nothing 
will ever quench my desire for either one.

I never knew that love had a color.  But it does.  Red.  Rich, thick,
vibrant red.  And a flavor.  Salty-sweet.  And a name.  Tom.

I never knew.

God, he loves me.  I can see it in his eyes just before they roll back 
in his head, I can taste it in his blood, I can smell it in the sweat 
on his skin.  I can hear it in the tiny whimpers and moans that escape 
his lips and I can feel it in his touch as his hand speeds up, carrying 
me closer to the ecstasy currently overtaking him.  He's gone before I 
am with a short, sharp wail that makes my ears ring and the sound moves 
through me on a wave of blood and fire and then I'm right there with 
him, my turn, thrusting into his hand, filling it with a harsh groan 
and a breathless gasp.

I fall at his side and we lie quietly, breathing growing calm and 
quiet.  He grins tiredly at me and I roll toward him, making sure he's 
okay as I lick the small holes on his wrist closed.  His color hasn't 
changed, I didn't take that much, but his eyes are glowing.  Happy.

The fangs retreat leisurely as he kisses me with a soft, sated hunger,
pulling me down on top of him, holding me to him, arms and legs 
wrapping around me as I nuzzle his neck, his ear, and claim his mouth 
again.  

We part with sighs and smiles and he brushes my hair out of my eyes 
then burrows into me, holding me close, his body slick and cooling.  
But his embrace is warm, and the light shining from his eyes is nothing 
short of incendiary.  He loves me.  And I, him.

A gentle hand runs down my arm to take my hand, fingers lacing through
fingers as he kisses my shoulder after a playful nip.  He squeezes
carefully and I squeeze back, even more carefully, then settle in his 
arms.  He's got me.  Completely.  And he will never let me go.  Nor 
will I ever release him, this side of death.  He is mine and I am his.

And so we will remain, if the universe is willing.  Joined in love.  
And bound in blood.


~~~end