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

Disclaimer time once again!  Twenty-fifth 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 story has nothing to do with anything I've written before.  I 
just needed another break from heavy and angst-ridden, and 
this is it.  

Dedicated to Debra, for bringing St. Harry to mind so long ago, 
and to Merri-Todd, for the 'beer bottles and pool cues' talk, and 
for betaing it into submission.

'Wagers' by Amirin


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


Tom groaned in frustration and drove his fist into the pillow, 
knowing he was never going to get to sleep tonight.  How the 
hell could he have been so damned *stupid*?  He grinned wryly, 
thinking that it just came easy to him. What had he done? 
Where had his brain gone?  

Of course, it hadn't been *all* his fault, he thought to himself. 
Harry had helped.  Hell, Harry had *started* it.  It had just been 
an innocent comment, one little remark, that got the whole ball 
rolling.  Rolling right over Tom . . .


------------------------------


"Why *me*?" Tom whined, crawling through jefferies tube 14-B. 
"What the hell do I know about phase-transfer coils and power 
induction relays?"

Harry heaved the sigh of a man-about-to-be-martyred.  He 
wasn't going to answer, he simply wasn't.  He'd been listening to 
Tom complain for the last couple of hours and he was *so* sick 
of it.  Tom knew why both of them needed to be there: so that 
B'Elanna could monitor their work from engineering, while Carey 
readjusted the conduits as they went along.  Harry had done this 
before, it was no big deal.  It was quickly becoming a big 
*headache*, however, thanks to Tom.

"She hates me, that's what it is.  Ever since we broke up, she 
absolutely hates me.  She *knows* I don't know what the hell I'm 
doing when it comes to engineering.  Why *me*?"

Harry heaved another sigh and tuned Tom out.  The faster they 
got done with this, the sooner he'd be out of here, on his way to 
a hot shower, and a *peaceful* dinner, he thought to himself, as 
they reached the last stop, the final checkpoint.  Tom hadn't 
done much more than haul the equipment, Harry was doing the 
actual work.  Tom was flopped on his back, staring at the ceiling 
of the tube, bemoaning his lot in life.  Harry briefly tuned back in, 
just to see if Tom had bothered to change tracks.  He hadn't.  
After a while, Harry snapped the panel back in, and rolled over 
to look at Tom.

" . . . trying to make me look ridiculous, *ha*, that's what she's 
doing, that's the  . . " Tom trailed off, as Harry simply stared at 
him, leaning on his elbow.  "What?" he asked.

"We're done," Harry answered, dryly, wondering why he'd 
bothered using the word *we*.  <I'm a saint, that's why>, he 
decided.

"Oh, *finally*," Tom sighed loudly, while Harry restrained himself 
from thwacking his best friend up side the head. So much for 
sainthood.  "Can we *please* get the hell out of here, then?  I 
have things I'd much rather do, than lie in a *jefferies tube* with 
you, Harry."

"Really?  Where *would* you rather lie with me, Tom?" Harry 
asked softly, giving in to the imp inside him, the one dying to see 
the look on Tom Paris's face after asking *that* particular 
question, *that* particular way.  <Serves him right, for making 
me miserable for the last two hours> Harry thought.

Tom looked stunned, blue eyes wide, eyebrows going up to his 
hairline, Harry noticed with glee.  And with Tom's receding 
hairline, that was quite a journey for those eyebrows to make. 
He struggled not to laugh, and leaned slowly into his friend's 
personal space, deliberately focusing his eyes on the other 
man's mouth, as he moved in closer, and closer . . 

*THONK* sounded from the tube, followed by an "*OW*, SHIT!" 
as Tom bolted upright at near-warp speed, cracking his head on 
the beam above him. Harry flinched in sympathy, and tried to tell 
Tom that he'd only been kidding, while trying not to laugh at the 
look on his friend's face. Tom was tearing down the tube as fast 
as he could go to get the hell away from him.  Maybe explaining 
later would be a better idea, Harry thought, as he grabbed their 
gear and followed him, chuckling to himself, hoping Tom wasn't 
*too* badly injured.  

B'Elanna glanced up in surprise as Tom came out of the tube, 
holding his head, and made a beeline for the door.  Harry came 
out a moment later, looking guilty for something, but still grinning 
from ear to ear, as he handed her the equipment.

"Harry?" she asked.  "What the hell happened?"

Harry snorted, shaking his head, finally laughing out loud at the 
look on B'Elanna's face. "I'll tell you later, I promise.  I just 
can't . ." With that, he headed for the door, stumbling through it, 
still laughing, as she looked after him in bewilderment.


--------------------------


Harry groaned again.  Why the hell had he said that?  Why 
hadn't he just kept his mouth shut?  All of this could have been 
avoided if only he hadn't given in to the impulse to give Tom 
some grief in payback for all his bitching and moaning.  He 
pulled the pillow over his face and groaned.  Granted, okay?  He 
*had* started it, but *still* . . There was no way anyone could 
blame *him* for what happened next . . .


--------------------------


Tom all but raced to his quarters, locking the door behind him. 
Some small voice in the recesses of his mind was trying to tell 
him that Harry'd said he was only kidding, but Tom didn't hear it 
until his heartrate returned to normal.  Then he started to get 
pissed.  That little . . .!!  

He paced his bedroom, trying to calm down, and only 
succeeded in making himself more agitated.  He ran his fingers 
through his hair, yet again, and threw himself on the bed, 
looking up at the ceiling.  Okay, maybe he'd deserved that, he 
knew he'd been a total shit, but *still*.  Gods, the *look* on 
Harry's face, when he moved in, as if to kiss him . . . Tom 
groaned, and buried his head under the pillow.  He paused, and 
thought for a minute. You know, this could be interesting, if he 
could convince Harry that he thought the other man was actually 
*serious* about wanting to kiss him. Like that had a snowball's 
chance in hell of being the case.  He sighed, wondering if there 
was any way he could maybe ease the ache within him and 
actually get what Harry had teased him with.  He moved out 
from underneath the pillow and grinned.  Harry needed to learn 
that you just don't mess with the master . . .


                      <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Harry headed into the mess hall, feeling a lot more comfortable 
in his casual cream shirt and darker brown pants, than he had in 
the jefferies tube.  He paused, looking around for Tom.  Had he 
already been here? Or was he avoiding the place?  "Computer, 
location of Lieutenant Paris." After being informed that Tom was 
in holodeck one, Harry headed out the door, determined to 
explain and, if necessary, apologize.

He strode in to Sandrine's, with purpose in his step, and came to 
an abrupt halt. <My god, could those jeans *be* any 
*tighter*?!?> he asked himself, knowing his jaw was hanging 
open and hurrying to close it.

Tom was trying so hard not to laugh, it would ruin *everything*, 
but the *look* on Harry's face was priceless.  He'd worn jeans 
before, after falling in love with the things during that trip to 
1996's Earth, but nothing quite like this.  He watched Harry take 
him in from nose to toes, the skin-tight, royal blue t-shirt, the 
jeans, deliberately faded to near-white in strategic locations, and 
the bare feet. He couldn't keep the grin from his face and turned 
toward the pool table, hiding it from his friend. 

"Harry," Tom all but purred over his shoulder, as though 
surprised to see him. "Want to knock around a few balls?"  He 
would have loved to have seen Harry's face, but didn't dare turn 
around just yet, not until he could control his own expression. 
Thank the gods it was just the two of them. He never would've 
had the nerve to do this if the usual crowd had been there.

"Sure," Harry choked out, grabbing a cue stick and heading over 
to the table, wondering if Tom had been fooling with the 
environmental heating controls. 

Tom racked them up and stepped back to let Harry break.  Harry 
was angling his shot when he noticed Tom's hand slowly 
stroking the upper few inches of his pool cue, rubbing his thumb 
over the rounded tip in small circles, as his fingers slid up and 
down the stick.  Oh, Gods.  Harry closed his eyes for longer than 
a blink, and tried to concentrate.  He muffed the shot and 
sighed, stepping out of the way to let Tom shoot.

Tom casually sauntered toward Harry and paused as if 
considering what his shot was going to be.  He frowned, on 
purpose, and let his tongue come out to lick his upper lip, very 
slowly.  He leaned in, a little too close to Harry, and bent over, 
nearly all the way, as he made a great break, sinking two balls. 
He reached behind Harry to grab his beer, pretending he didn't 
notice that the man jumped away from his hand like a scalded 
cat.  His fingers moved slowly over the old-fashioned bottle with 
calm deliberation.  

"Solids," Tom whispered, before wrapping his mouth around the 
opening, skewering Harry with his eyes, as he took a long 
swallow.  

Harry watched his throat move and gulped.  He knew there was 
something he was supposed to tell the other man, but the heat 
rising from his best friend was frying his brain cells, leaving him 
without the ability to think about anything.  What the hell was 
going on with Tom?  He met the blue eyes again, saw the 
devilish glint in them, and something clicked.  Why that . ..!!!  He 
didn't let his expression change as he stepped closer to Tom 
and reached out for the beer bottle, softly drawing one finger 
down the back of Tom's hand.  

What the *hell*?  Tom damned near dropped the bottle as Harry 
took it from him, caressing it in those long, slender fingers 
before bringing it to his own mouth. Tom tried valiantly to keep 
his eyes in their sockets as Harry let his tongue come out to 
swipe at the rim of the opening before raising it to his lips and 
slowly drinking.

<Outmaneuvered and outgunned, my friend> thought Harry, as 
he watched Tom's eyes dilate, his breathing slightly more rapid 
than it had been moments ago.  He leaned in close to his friend, 
moving his mouth up to his ear. Tom froze, feeling Harry's 
breath, warm and soft on his neck before he heard his voice, low 
and quiet.

"It's your move, Tom," Harry said, before backing away, meeting 
his friend's eyes and grinning slightly.

<That isn't a grin, *that* is a *smirk*>, thought Tom, realizing 
that Harry'd called his bluff.  He really thought he had the man, 
for a minute, but it was falling apart and he felt the need to make 
a hasty exit, hoping that a retreat wouldn't look like cowardice on 
his part.  Tom looked at Harry, *really* looked, and saw 
complete understanding there.  He sighed.  This was not the 
way to do this.  Time for plan 'B'.  Too bad he didn't *have* a 
plan 'B'.

"My move, huh?" Tom confirmed quietly, nodding to himself, 
hearing the doors swish as a few people wandered into the bar. 
"Later, Harry," he said.

Harry nodded, knowing a promise when he heard one.  "Later, 
Tom."


                      <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Tom spent most of the next day lost in thought.  It might have 
surprised him how many people noticed.  

Harry had been fielding questions all day long from those 
wondering what was wrong, what had happened, were the two 
of them on the outs with each other.  Tom had been unusually 
quiet, to the point that people were deliberately giving him 
openings in conversations for him to work the Paris wit with, but 
he seemed oblivious, as though making the effort simply wasn't 
occurring to him.  Duty shift over, Tom was hanging out in the 
holodeck, trying to enjoy one of Carlson's programs of a popular 
Risan party spot.  It was close, but Tom could see where 
changes might be made. He wasn't going to volunteer, or 
anything.  But if the man asked, he'd be glad to help. 

He was on one of the upper decks, watching those below him, 
enjoying the height of the balcony.  He heard activity behind him 
and saw B'Elanna coming up the stairs, along with some 
engineering cohorts and, oh gods . . Harry.

It wasn't like he was avoiding the guy, or anything.  He was just 
trying to work out an opportunity for them to finish whatever the 
hell it was they'd started, while giving Harry an out if he wanted 
it, or wasn't really interested.  

Tom caught Rodriguez wondering aloud about the real dance 
floor on Risa, and the balcony divers, those hot shots would take 
leaps off the upper levels into the crowd below.  Tom had done it 
a couple of times, it was no big deal.  B'Elanna seemed to be of 
the opinion that it simply wasn't possible, not without breaking 
something, especially for a human. He was about to volunteer 
that he'd done it, when he looked up and saw Harry agreeing 
with B'Elanna.

"There's no way you can do it, not without cracking an ankle, or 
your skull," Harry was insisting.

"Kim, I know guys who've done it and never broken anything," 
Rodriguez answered.

Tom looked over the railing, like he was debating the possibility. 
A plan was hatching, and he strove to keep it off his face.  He 
turned, a deliberate frown of concentration on his features.

"I think it could be done, successfully," he began, as though 
weighing the factors for the first time.  "I bet I could do it," he 
stated, seeing Harry's head shake as B'Elanna jumped in with 
an argument.

"You are out of your mind. There's no way you can take a 
header from this far up and not break anything," she stated 
emphatically.

"Tom, don't do it," Harry said, his voice pleading.  He knew his 
friend was something of a daredevil, but this was nuts.

"Come on, Har, how hard could it be?" Tom asked, keeping his 
certainty out of his voice.  

Rodriguez began to call out for bets to be made, all replicator 
rations, knowing Tom could cover them.

Harry went over to Tom and leaned over his shoulder to whisper 
in his ear.

"You don't have to do this," he started quietly, when Tom turned 
around to face him.  "You *can't* do this, not without hurting 
yourself."

"Bet me," Tom challenged, whispering back into Harry's ear, 
careful to keep their conversation between the two of them.  "I 
know exactly what I want, if I win."

Okay, now Harry was intrigued.  "What?" he asked, wondering if 
he was going to like the answer.  Oh, he hoped so.

"I want what you threatened to give me in the jefferies tube," 
Tom whispered quietly, seeing Harry's eyes close at the words. 
"One kiss, Harry.  As public or as private, as chaste or as 
passionate as you want to make it.  One kiss, from you, within 
the next twenty-four hours."  Harry swallowed, hard, and opened 
his eyes.  "And what if you don't make it?"

Tom leaned closer, letting the warmth of his breath tickle Harry's 
ear.  

"Name it," he softly challenged.  "Whatever you want, then."

Harry tried to get his breathing to slow down.  He wasn't entirely 
successful, but he looked Tom in the eye, and nodded.  

"Agreed," he said quietly, seeing Tom get up and head toward 
the balcony of the suddenly silent level.  

Tom knew he could make it and was glad he was out of uniform 
or he'd have to try it barefoot.  No way would he even attempt it 
in boots.  He climbed onto the railing, and waited for the people 
below to notice and move out of the way.  He stood up and let 
his arms come out from his sides.  Just like going off the high 
dive, he remembered, as he brought his arms down and 
launched, bringing himself into a tuck almost immediately.  He 
straightened out and let his momentum bring his long legs under 
him, to land lightly on his feet on the floor, bending the knees 
carefully to absorb the shock.  He looked up to see several 
astounded people above him, before the noise level reached 
deafening proportions as clapping and cheering erupted.  He 
shrugged and bowed, before heading back up to the balcony 
where everyone was waiting.  Harry was just standing there 
shaking his head, B'Elanna was grousing about how there 
wasn't anything he couldn't do, she hated it, and Rodriguez was 
tallying up the winnings, taking a modest cut for himself.  Not 
bad for a evening's work, not bad at all.  

Tom made his excuses and apologies and left.  He hadn't 
wanted Harry to fulfill the bet there, he thought to himself, as he 
made his way back to his quarters and settled in for the night, 
anticipation making him restless.  Of course, there was no 
guarantee that he'd get the kind of kiss he really wanted from 
Harry, but he was still excited as hell, just thinking about the 
possibilities.


                      <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Tom was sitting in the mess hall the next evening, eating what 
passed for dinner with B'Elanna, when Harry came in.  They still 
hadn't exactly spoken much, enough to keep people from 
wondering what was up, again, but not as much as they usually 
did.  And they certainly didn't talk about the bet. 

Tom's gut had been in knots all day, wondering when Harry was 
going to make good on it.  He'd been terrified that the man 
would decide the middle of duty shift, in front of the entire bridge 
crew, would be a good time.  And there had been plenty of 
opportunities when they'd been alone together, the turbolift, for 
one, when it could've happened.  That indicated to Tom that 
Harry wasn't interested in private, which left public.  How public, 
though, only Harry knew.  Tom couldn't even think about chaste 
versus passionate without his uniform ceasing to fit. 

Now, he was trying to keep his mind on what B'Elanna was 
saying, without much luck, when Harry approached them, and 
B'Elanna looked up.

"Hey, Harry, come join us," she invited, only to have Harry shake 
his head.

"Can't stay, I'm afraid, thanks, B'Elanna," he said, patiently 
waiting for Tom to swallow whatever it was he was chewing.

Tom did, taking a drink, when he noticed Harry's eyes on him, 
and a smile vaguely reminiscent of Sandrine's, two nights ago, 
on his face.

Harry hooked a foot around the leg of Tom's chair, bringing it 
away from the table, as he straddled his friend's lap and brought 
his arms around the man's neck, working one hand into soft 
red-gold hair. 

Tom leaned back momentarily from Harry, startled, until he 
realized the moment had arrived.  He brought his own hands to 
rest lightly on Harry's legs, as his friend's eyes focused on his 
mouth.

Harry glanced up at his friend, just once, to see his eyes dilated 
and enormous, before he leaned forward and slowly brought his 
lips to caress Tom's.  He felt Tom move forward slightly, coming 
into him, as one of Tom's hands stroked his neck, while the 
other went slowly, teasingly, up and down his back.  He brought 
one of his own to caress Tom's face, as the man's mouth 
opened against his and he found himself inside incredible heat 
and sweetness, his tongue playing tag and pounce with Tom's.

Tom sighed into the kiss, vaguely aware that he could hear 
nothing except the pounding of his heart.  Gods, Harry had a 
great mouth. Warm and teasing, tender and delicious.  By silent, 
mutual consent, their heads shifted, each toward the opposite 
direction, as the kiss deepened even more. Tom held Harry 
against him a little tighter and felt those strong, wonderful hands 
clench as Harry brought the one on his face up into his hair and 
tantalizingly brushed the back of his head.  The other one 
moved to his neck, resting lightly against his pulse, as his 
tongue stroked Harry's.

Harry never dreamed Tom would be this responsive.  Or that a 
simple kiss could drive him out of his mind.  Okay, so this was 
not a simple kiss.  The passion he felt for the man under him, in 
his arms . . Good gods, if they weren't in the mess hall, he'd 
throw him on the ground and . . wait a minute . . in the mess hall. 
Shit.  

Tom felt Harry back off, slightly, and moved back, himself, trying 
to get his eyes to focus. He felt a soft touch on his mouth as 
Harry caressed his lips with his fingertips.  He placed a kiss 
against them and saw Harry smile.

"Harry Kim, you are one *hell* of a good kisser," Tom said in a 
stunned whisper, his voice too rusty for anything else.

Harry grinned, seeing his friend's flushed face, glad Tom had 
enjoyed it as much as he had.  "Thank you," he whispered back, 
quietly.  "So are you," he stated with quiet insistence.

"Maybe we can do this again sometime," Tom suggested with 
serious humor.  "Bet on it," Harry whispered, grinning, carefully 
getting off his friend's lap and easing his chair back under the 
table.

He tossed a careless smile at a thunderstruck B'Elanna.  "See 
ya later," he waved as he went out the door of the now-silent 
mess hall, trying to remember how to walk without crashing into 
walls, made his way down the corridor, and headed to his 
quarters.

Tom cleared his throat, picking up his fork like nothing had 
happened.  "So, B'Elanna, where were we?" he asked merrily, 
putting a forkful of whatever into his mouth and chewing.

"What the *hell* was *that*?" B'Elanna sputtered, looking for all 
the world like she'd dearly love to wring Tom's neck.

"'That'?" Tom asked as though puzzled, until he heard 
B'Elanna's snarl.  "*Oh* . . *that*," he said, with teasing 
realization.  "That was a kiss, B'Elanna," he finished, thinking, 
<Dear god, was it *ever*>.

B'Elanna sat there, open-mouthed with surprised, until she 
caught the gleam in Tom's eyes.  "Okay, Paris, I want some 
answers, and I want them *now* . ."


                    <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Stories, rumors, and outright lies were flying around the ship 
after the kiss in the mess hall, the kiss that would've changed 
Tom's religion, if he'd had one.  Every time the two of them were 
together, people started drawing near, as though waiting for a 
repeat performance.  They'd just have to keep waiting.  The 
opportunity for another bet hadn't yet presented itself.

Harry was getting a little nervous.  He knew Tom had enjoyed 
the hell out of that kiss, just as much as he had.  But things 
seemed to be at a standstill.  Knowing how Tom's mind worked, 
Harry soon realized that his friend was waiting for a wager, one 
that Harry would win, in order to continue this bizarre 'courtship'.

He was musing to himself one morning in engineering, 
wondering how to go about finessing another bet, when the 
chance dropped into his lap.  If he hadn't caught the significant 
look in Tom's eyes, his distraction might've made him miss it.

Tom and B'Elanna were arguing about whether the cause of the 
sensor malfunction was a tripped circuit, or an overloaded 
conduit.  Tom was betting on the circuit.  Harry didn't think so. 
B'Elanna was too smug, like she already knew it had to be a 
conduit problem.

"I've got to side with B'Elanna on this one, Tom," he began, not 
missing the flare of light in his friend's blue eyes.  

Of course Tom knew that B'Elanna had already checked.  This 
was just his ex-lover's sneaky way of getting her rations back. 
Harry had picked the winning side, but Tom felt he needed to 
make a show of it.

"I would agree, if not for the thoron particles in that cloud we 
went through.  The weapons array did the same thing, and it 
was an tripped circuit, then, too," Tom said, with such 
confidence that Harry almost believed his friend might be right.

"Let's just see, shall we?" B'Elanna asked, feeling a little guilty 
about cheating.  But, after some of the questionable bets she'd 
lost to Tom, *only* a little.

Sure enough, the diagnostic revealed that she was right and 
Tom sighed theatrically before B'Elanna moved off to corral a 
team to work on it.

"Same stakes as before?" Tom quietly asked, just to make sure.

"Absolutely," Harry muttered, before they went their separate 
ways, each hoping no one expected any coherent work out of 
them for the rest of the day.


                     <<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>> 


Tom had set it all up in the resort program for that evening.  It 
was pretty damned good, if he said so himself, which he did.  He 
and Harry were just standing there talking, ignoring the way 
people seemed to be clustering at the tables around them. 
Sunset had taken place a while earlier and the sky was 
beginning to get dark as the soft lanterns came on with just 
enough light to keep someone from walking into anyone else, 
but not much more than that.  Darkness settled and people were 
relaxing; nothing was going to happen tonight, obviously.

Harry had this strange feeling of anticipation building within him. 
He wasn't picking up anything from Tom, he didn't think. 
Nothing in the man's mood or manner had changed since they'd 
arrived.

Tom checked for all the subtle signs he'd programmed, to help 
him get the timing exactly right.  He let the grin he'd been 
keeping in check all evening finally emerge, nearly laughing as 
Harry's eyes widened.

Gods, it was like someone had thrown a switch.  One minute 
they were discussing something completely irrelevant, the next 
Tom's face lit with a smile that made the lanterns redundant.

Harry didn't realize he was holding his breath until he started 
feeling lightheaded.  Tom was moving closer to him, one hand 
slowly outstretched toward his cheek, as Harry moved a step 
backwards, coming directly under the arch above them.  Tom's 
eyes were glowing softly in the dim light and Harry shivered, his 
own eyes closing as Tom removed the distance between them, 
taking Harry's face in his hands.  Harry's eyes flew open when 
nothing happened, before he heard a muted popping sound and 
the sky above them filled with sparkling colored light, just as 
Tom touched his lips with his. He heard people 'ooh' and 'ahh', 
but all he was aware of was Tom.  Harry's eyes shut, and his 
arms came around the warm body of the man before him. 

Sighing into the kiss, Harry felt a tongue lick his lips and he 
opened them.  Nothing could have prepared him for the 
delicious invasion that followed, as Tom's hand moved around 
his neck, pulling him more tightly into his embrace.  Harry 
moaned, helplessly, part of him wondering why Tom hadn't 
followed his lead from the first kiss and made sure they were 
both sitting down.  He hung onto the man, melting into the arms 
that encircled him gently, supporting him, Tom's wonderful 
mouth creating its own addiction.  Indulging it, he let his tongue 
parry with Tom's, seeking out the heat within the other man. 
Gods, he'd *never* had a kiss do this to him before.  Hands 
were in his hair, holding him steady, as soft lips travelled over 
his face, before coming to rest on his neck.  A warm, wet tongue 
against his ear nearly made his knees buckle and he would 
have collapsed if not for the strength in the arms around him. 
Gently, teeth explored his earlobe and nibbled his throat, 
roaming almost to the back before returning and continuing 
along the other side.

Tom made his way slowly back to Harry's mouth and caressed 
the lips below his own with the tip of his tongue, until Harry's 
came out to meet it.  Gods, so damned sweet, his Harry.  His 
Harry.  Oh, he *wished*.  He was so afraid that if the stakes 
were raised, Harry might back off.  Tom couldn't take that.  If 
they had to continue with kisses forever, he'd find a way to make 
it enough.  One of his hands found its way into Harry's black hair 
and he smiled at its softness as he brushed it out of the way.  

The kiss hadn't ended, merely paused and restarted, time and 
again.  Harry was getting a little dizzy, and not just due to lack of 
oxygen.  Most of the blood in his body was going elsewhere, 
arousal kicking him in the gut and lower.  He pulled back from 
Tom in time to see the finale. A huge red and blue starburst 
exploded over their heads and he gasped out loud, meeting 
Tom's eyes.

Tom held onto Harry until he was certain the man wouldn't end 
up in a heap on the holographic sand, if he let him go.

"Gods, you are way too good at this," Harry muttered, too quietly 
for anyone else to hear.

"Thank you," Tom replied softly.  "I was inspired."

Harry laughed, drawing the attention of those near them.  Time 
to play the nonchalant.

"Nice fireworks, Tom," he said clearly, still grinning.

"You saw fireworks, Harry?  I'm flattered," Tom tossed back, 
smiling, before heading out the door, to his quarters.


                    <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


A couple of days passed, but the opportunity for another bet 
refused to grace them with its presence.  They were both getting 
a little desperate.  It was Tom's turn and he couldn't come up 
with anything.  He was also a little afraid of the stakes.  He didn't 
just want another kiss; he wanted the next step, whatever Harry 
thought it should be, whatever he was comfortable with.

The two of them were discussing dinner as they walked down 
the corridor, when they met up with B'Elanna.  

She had been in engineering the night of the fireworks and 
wasn't pleased to have missed them, or the holographic ones, 
for that matter. It hadn't been *too* long since then, but nothing 
new had happened with these two.  They seemed to be even, at 
the moment, kiss for kiss.  Maybe that was the problem; they 
couldn't take the steps necessary to break the status quo.  She 
wondered if there was any way she could help. She really 
wanted Tom to be happy, and Harry, too, and if they found 
happiness together, well, it was like killing two birds with one 
well-hurled rock.

"So, anyone know what's on for dinner tonight?" she asked, to 
buy herself some time.

"Nope," Tom answered, sighing.  "I just hope it's not purple, 
again."

"Isn't it about time for pink?" Harry asked, hope suddenly lighting 
his features.

Tom basked in that light, for a moment, before responding. 
"With my luck, it's probably purple," he sighed dramatically.

"Naw," drawled Harry, "Pink."

Tom smiled gently.  "Wanna bet?" he asked huskily.

Harry cleared his throat.  "For what stakes?"

"Name it," Tom whispered, breath coming a little faster. 
Harry thought for just a moment, then smiled.  B'Elanna was 
damned near blinded by it and it dawned on her what was going 
on.  So, *that's* what they were doing.  Good gods, human 
males!

Tom looked questioningly at Harry, who finally decided.

"I want two hours," he said, like that was all he *had* to say.

"Two hours of what?" Tom asked, cautiously, as there wasn't a 
clue on Harry's face. For all he knew, the guy wanted him to 
clean his quarters for him.

"You'll see, when you lose," Harry murmured.  "Pink."

"And if I win?" Tom grinned.  "Purple."

"*Anything* you want," Harry said quietly.  "Pink."

"You're on.  Purple."

B'Elanna grinned as they headed toward the mess hall. 
Something told her this bet wouldn't be fulfilled in public.  The 
main course was pink, desert was blue.  And Harry didn't quit 
smiling all the way through it.


                      <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Tom found the note when he went to his quarters after duty shift 
the next day.  Just a simple instruction to meet him on holodeck 
two, signed with an 'H'.  He got changed and headed to meet 
Harry, not knowing what the man had planned for him.  

He entered quietly.  All he saw was a large, rounded wooden 
door with a huge wrought-iron knocker.  He lifted it hesitantly 
and let it fall with a thud.  The door swung open on its hinges, to 
reveal a dimly lit room: stone walls, wood floor, high beams in 
the ceiling, and a long table in front of a roaring fire. It and 
candles provided the only light.  There was another folded note 
on the table, Tom realized, and headed for it.  What he had 
thought was a tablecloth turned out to be two dark-colored 
sheets, the corner on the top one turned back invitingly.

He glanced at the piece of paper in his hand.  'Get undressed 
and under the sheet.  Soon.'

He sighed, looking around for Harry and seeing nothing.  Toeing 
off his shoes, he drew the shirt over his head and tossed it on 
the floor, then quickly stripped off the rest of his clothing. 
Climbing onto the lightly padded table, he drew the dark fabric 
over him, hoping Harry wasn't intending anything, um, physical, 
as it wasn't the most comfortable place for that.  No pillow, so he 
lay on his stomach, hands under his head, resting on his 
crossed arms.  Then he felt it.  Heat was radiating up from the 
surface of the table.  He sighed.  Nice.  Facing the fire, he 
closed his eyes, seeing the flames dance on his eyelids.  A soft 
touch on his shoulder brought blue eyes open with a start.

Harry stood there, simply dressed, smiling slightly.

"Just relax.  And enjoy," he murmured, lightly running his fingers 
through Tom's hair, burnished gold in the flickering firelight.  He 
drew one finger down Tom's forehead, down between the soft, 
blue eyes, and stroked the spot slowly until they closed again. 
His fingertip traveled the length of the nose and along the 
cheekbone, then followed the chin, and eventually reached the 
ear.  Harry walked to the end of the table, near Tom's head, and 
leaned down to dip his fingers into the wooden bowl warming on 
the stone hearth, just coating them, before rubbing his hands 
together to evenly distribute the oil.  He carefully moved the 
sheet down to Tom's waist and placed his hands on the strong 
shoulders, thumbs along the backbone.  Pushing firmly, his 
hands went down the man's back until they reached the sheet, 
before coming back up to the shoulders.  He did it again, then 
again, using a little more pressure each time until Tom was 
groaning.  

Walking around to the side away from the fireplace, he moved 
Tom's arms, so that they lay ahead of him, wrists hanging off the 
end of the table.  Using the oil on the backs of his hands to 
reslick the palms, Harry began firmly massaging the shoulder in 
front of him, going over it in circles, using more pressure around 
the shoulderblade.  He followed the ridge of the backbone from 
time to time, working along the ribs with a touch too strong to 
make Tom ticklish.  He saw the pale hands clench every so 
often when he hit a sensitive muscle, and stopped to work that 
area until the hands relaxed and Tom sighed.  Gods, the man 
needed this; he was so tight in places, Harry wasn't sure if he 
was making any headway at all, at times.  He just kept firmly 
massaging the knotted sections until, suddenly, the tension in 
the muscles beneath his hands would just let go, leaving them
malleable, again. 

Tom was melting, slowly losing cellular cohesion as Harry's 
hands hit spot after spot, firmly, but gently, molding him like clay, 
leaving nothing but pleasure in their wake.  Harry had moved 
around him and was now taking care of the other side of his 
back, same movements as before, making him sigh and groan. 
Between the heat from the fire, the table, and what Harry was 
generating, Tom found himself falling asleep, more than once. 
Each time, though, he jerked back awake until Harry noticed 
what was happening.

"Don't fight it," he whispered, stroking Tom's back slowly, 
soothing him. "Let go.  Sleep, Tom.  Just go to sleep."

Tom started dozing, not really even noticing that Harry had 
finished his back, drawn the sheet up, to keep him warm and 
relaxed, and moved it off of his left leg, until firm, re-oiled hands 
began working his thigh.  

Harry moved methodically down Tom's leg, using a little more 
pressure along the long thigh muscles, being careful not to tickle 
the inside.  He was meeting a lot less resistance, now, and 
guessed that his friend was sound asleep.  His hands found a 
familiar rhythm while massaging around the knee, before moving 
even more strongly over the tight calf, as he lifted it up and firmly 
stroked the shin.  He set it down, gently, and drew his hands 
over the arch of Tom's foot, thumbs pressing, but not digging, 
into the flesh. Making sure he didn't miss the Achilles' tendon, 
he moved upward, following the heel, letting his fingers steadily 
work their way across the top of the man's foot, bending and 
flexing the toes.  He put that foot back down and recovered the 
entire leg, then walked around the table to oil his hands, again.

He moved the sheet off the other leg, and stopped to lightly 
caress an exposed shoulder, when Tom stirred, briefly.  Harry 
followed the same steps as before, going thoroughly over the 
long leg, down the knee, to the calf, and over the foot again, 
then covered the leg back up.  He place a hand on Tom's 
shoulder and eased him back until some part of the man's mind 
realized what Harry was trying to do, and completed the roll 
over, bringing him onto his back, before Harry brought the sheet 
down to his waist, again.

Harry stood behind Tom's head and placed both hands on the 
shoulders, before moving them deliberately over the man's 
chest, feeling the heartbeat under his fingers.  He worked 
patiently along the clavicle, from shoulders to neck and back 
again, and caught Tom's slight sigh.  Harry was trying to remain 
impassive, and continue acting like the body beneath his hands 
wasn't begging to be caressed, but it was *so* hard. He was 
almost back to objectively regarding the man before him, when 
his hand brushed across a nipple, and Tom groaned, softly.  

Harry moved his hands away and rubbed them together to make 
them quit shaking.  It wasn't working.  He had honestly meant for 
this to be nothing more than a sensual experience, learning 
where and how Tom liked to be touched; it wasn't supposed to 
venture into more intimate territory.  Like having Tom naked on 
a horizontal surface wasn't intimate, at all.  Oh, no, not a bit. 
Yeah, Har, you just keep sailing that barge on up Denial.

He walked around the side of the table, saw Tom lying there, 
glowing in the firelight, totally relaxed, and naked, let's not forget 
naked, under that sheet, and gave up.  Hell with it.  Reaching 
forward with a hesitant finger, he slowly drew it across Tom's 
lips, just catching himself before he moaned aloud, when they 
parted under his thumb.  He went along the jaw, next, from ear 
to ear, very slowly, then brought both hands down his friend's 
throat, fingers sliding down the sides and back, until they found 
themselves on his collarbone, again.

In some distant recess of Tom's mind, enough awareness 
remained to pick up on the difference in the touch Harry was 
using and it brought him into wakefulness.  He let his eyes 
remain shut, however.  If Harry wanted to touch him, he wasn't 
about to stop him. He didn't want Harry to stop, period.

A slick finger making its way down his arm was soon joined by a 
warm hand as Harry began massaging him down to the elbow 
and back up again, slow, even strokes.  Tom tried to keep 
breathing normally, as though asleep, but those hands soon 
began drawing small sounds from him as they worked his 
forearm, under and around the wrist and then over his hands. 
Gods.  

Careful fingers began bending his wrist, stretching the tendons, 
first, before moving onto his hands again, smooth strokes sliding 
over his palm and fingers.  His eyes opened of their own volition 
when his hand was braced against Harry's chest and he felt the 
rapid heartbeat that thudded under it.  Dark eyes met his own, 
almost black in the firelight, and he swallowed heavily.

Harry worked on Tom's arm, keeping it straight, hands switching 
positions so one was always holding it to his chest, right above 
the open 'V' of his shirt.  The same shirt that was becoming 
really, *really* warm, now.  He started slightly as Tom seemed to 
read his mind, moving his hand to the fastenings and undoing 
them, slowly, blond eyebrows slightly furrowed with inquisitive 
intent.

Tom slowly rose to sit up and the sheet fell unheeded to his 
waist as he pushed the soft, dark fabric off Harry's shoulders. 
The flared sleeves easily slid from his friend's wrists and it fell 
behind him. Tom moved his hand up the smooth, golden 
expanse of the man's chest, little finger deliberately sliding over 
a nipple and Harry's lips parted, his breath coming in gasps. 
Tom smiled softly at the sounds, harsh in the near-silent room.

"I didn't mean . . This wasn't . ." Harry trailed off as a finger 
pushed lightly on his lips, silencing him. 

Tom nodded.  "I know.  This wasn't supposed to be a seduction," 
he smiled a fraction.  "But I am, you know.  Thoroughly and 
irrevocably seduced.  Entranced.  Attracted.  Aroused."

Harry swallowed, eyes trying to find someplace else to look, 
before they were drawn back to Tom's, whose own eyes were 
glowing faintly.

"I love your touch, Harry," Tom said quietly, trailing his own hand 
hesitantly around Harry's neck, pulling him closer.

Harry came, unresisting.  He found himself sitting on the table 
next to Tom's hip, his weight pulling the sheet taut over his 
friend, whose hardness was beautifully defined by it.  His eyes 
closed for longer than a blink, only to fly open as soft, warm lips 
skated briefly over his own.  A hot tongue flicked his mouth open 
and his met it instantly, this kiss becoming more careful, yet 
more arousing, than those they had shared before.

Tom groaned softly, with barely any sound at all, as Harry let 
him in deeper, pulled him nearer, capturing him in incredible 
heat. His groan grew louder as Harry devoured his mouth, 
feeding off it and feeding it as the heat increased, hot-fire tongue 
licking his. Hands were caressing him again, the touch now 
meant to arouse and inflame, and he had to admit Harry was 
doing a damned good job of it.  He returned each touch as it 
was given to him, as though he felt unworthy of the gift.  And 
gift, it was.  

Harry brought Tom closer to him and he sighed as a fire-warmed 
body pressed slickly against his own, Tom's chest and arms 
transferring the oil there to his. Hands slid over backs, skin 
caressed skin, and he groaned repeatedly into his friend's 
mouth. He eased back, intending to stand and get rid of his 
slacks, when his eyes met Tom's and wandered over his friend's 
exposed body, shimmering with oil and firelight.  He couldn't 
help but smile.

"What?" Tom asked, his voice rougher than usual, as he took in 
the vision before him, Harry's dark hair nearly in his eyes, 
making them look hooded and mysterious.  His arms and chest 
shone as the flames flickered over them, light reflecting off the 
thin coating of oil.  His soft smile answered Harry's.

"Beautiful," Harry murmured, hand stroking Tom's chest.

"Exquisite," Tom returned, hand moving to run through black 
hair, sweeping it out of Harry's eyes.  "The massage was 
wonderful.  But I think you missed a spot," he said lightly.

"Oh?" Harry asked, so puzzled Tom knew he didn't quite get it. 
His hand reached for Harry's and he covered his aching cock 
with it, groaning softly at the contact, even through the sheet.

"Poor thing," Harry commiserated with a knowing grin.  "Sore?"

Tom nodded mutely as skillful fingers found their way under the 
sheet and wrapped around his length.  

"Stiff too, huh?" Harry queried, running his fingers lightly over 
Tom's hardness, as he slid off the table and stood next to it, 
unfastening his pants one-handedly and letting them slide to the 
floor, before kicking them out of the way.  He grinned as Tom's 
wide eyes took note of the fact that he hadn't bothered with 
underwear.  He moved the sheet aside and stretched himself 
alongside Tom, slick hand continually stroking his friend's hard 
cock.

Tom lay back when Harry's hand on his shoulder gently pushed 
him down.

"Har, I don't think there's enough room for both of us on here," 
he murmured, then gasped aloud as Harry bent over him, taking 
the head of his cock into his hot, wet mouth.  Harry raised his 
head briefly to voice a command and returned to what he was 
doing, leaning on an elbow next to Tom's hip as he took the man 
as far down his throat as he could.

Tom was barely aware of the fact that the table had widened, 
lengthened, and was now lying flat on the floor on front of the 
huge stone fireplace.  The furniture rearranging itself was 
extremely uninteresting compared to the feeling of his cock 
sliding in and out of Harry's soft mouth.  Tom's fingers tightened 
in the sheet, his body shaking beneath Harry's tender 
ministrations.  Gods, the heat coming from his soon-to-be-lover 
completely dwarfed that being emitted by the fire and he 
groaned aloud as a tongue swept over his aching flesh. 

Harry grinned around Tom's hardness; the sounds of the other 
man's pleasure, music to his ears.  A trembling hand was 
caressing his hair, petting him, and he sighed in sensory delight. 
Movement caught his attention and he noticed Tom's legs were 
drawing up reflexively.  He ran a hand along the oiled expanse 
of Tom's long thigh but, this time, he kept going all the way up to 
the juncture of his legs.  

Tom quivered as Harry stroked him, unerringly finding the 
entrance to his body and sliding a slick finger in slowly, carefully. 
Harry's mouth never stopped loving him and he couldn't prevent 
himself from arching up into it.  The suction and licking 
increased slightly and he cried out hoarsely, upper body raising 
from the padded table-turned-bed, muscles convulsing, before 
he crashed back down again.  He couldn't believe how damned 
good it felt; Harry had a mouth that could suck-start the warp 
drive.

A second finger was added and twisted gently, and Harry felt 
Tom thrumming around him with every stroke.  A hand pushing 
on his shoulder brought his dark eyes up to meet sparkling blue.

"No more," Tom whispered raggedly.  "In me. Harry, please. 
Need you," he gasped out with less than his usual coherency. 
His next hastily taken breath was groaned out in a long, drawn 
out "Yesss" as Harry moved between his legs, stroking his hand 
soothingly up and down his quivering thigh.

Harry reached up, to drench his hand in the warm oil still in the 
bowl on the hearth, before bringing it to his own erection.  His 
gaze flew up at a soft moan and he saw Tom watching him. He 
debated drawing it out, teasing the man under him, but he 
couldn't bring himself to do it.  Maybe another time, when the 
need wasn't so overpowering.  For now, he prepared himself as 
he had prepared Tom, not rushing, but not taking any sideroads, 
either.

Tom rolled over as soon as Harry withdrew the fingers inside 
him, then sighed in relief as hands on his hips brought him 
backward onto his hands and knees, until he could feel the blunt 
head of Harry's cock resting against the opening to his body.  He 
wiggled experimentally, moving himself backward, only to have 
those wonderful hands halt him. Warm fingers went down his 
back in a long, languid caress and he rose helplessly to meet it,
arching into the touch.

"Harry, now, please.  Gods, take me. Fuck me. *Please*," Tom 
pleaded, as Harry hushed him, moving slowly despite his most 
insistent efforts to be taken hard, fast, and *now*.

Harry carefully entered Tom, just the head of his cock 
penetrating, and stilled as Tom hissed. Harry could see the 
muscles in his arms quivering and moved slowly, in and out, 
mere inches at a time.  He grinned as Tom's groan turned into a 
yowl and pushed a little deeper, sliding slickly inside the tight, 
hot channel that clenched around him at every move.  Tom tried 
to hurry things along, but Harry was determined to take his time 
and Tom couldn't deny him anything at this point.  His head 
dropped as Harry moved inside him, and he could feel every 
inch as it entered his body.  He whimpered with distress as 
Harry pulled almost completely out of him, before a cry was torn 
from him when Harry returned with his hardest thrust yet.

And so it went on, slow withdrawal followed by a rapid thrust 
back inside, until Harry lost the rhythm, taking Tom faster and 
harder, as his lover's cries grew more insistent and less 
coherent.

Tom was awash in sensation; he felt Harry around him, through 
him, hot and hard inside him, warm and strong above him, and 
couldn't stop shaking.  His head fell back when sharp teeth 
nipped his shoulder, just before warm lips found his neck.  An 
oil-drenched hand caressed his throat, down his chest, over his 
stomach and wrapped around his cock, jerking him off in time 
with the thrusts that filled him so perfectly, so completely.  A firm 
hand on his back pushed him gently down onto his elbows and 
the change in the angle of Harry's penetration wrung another 
harsh cry from him.

Harry moaned aloud as Tom tightened around him again, back 
arching into a perfect curve below him as his hard cock slid over 
his lover's prostate.

"So good.  Oh, gods, so good," Harry murmured, hand sliding 
firmly over Tom's flesh, the heat within him escalating to blazing 
as the man thrust forward into his hand then backward against 
him, strangled cries coming from him every time Harry's hard 
length was sheathed inside his body.

"Yes, oh gods, yes, *Harry*," Tom cried out, a few brain cells 
firing in synch enough to allow temporary coherency, before the 
haze of passion and pleasure descended again to wipe 
everything from his mind but the feeling of Harry buried deep 
inside him.  Harry quivered as his body prepared itself for 
climax, his groans continuous, as Tom moved sinuously under 
him, forcing him to thrust harder, faster, as he stoked his lover's 
fire from deep within him.  Tom moaned agonizingly as Harry's 
hand tightened around his cock, sending heat screaming along 
his nerve-endings as his entire body went taut.  His release 
came, long and loud, when his orgasm filled the hand 
surrounding him and white-hot light filled his eyes, freeing the 
shout within him to echo throughout the room.

Harry just held on when Tom's climax began and felt his own 
body following Tom's lead, muscles milking him all along the 
length of his own cock, the choked shout rumbling in the body 
he felt under his cheek.  His eyes squeezed shut just before a 
sharp spasm nearly snapped his back in two and his own 
release found a way out between gritted teeth as he filled his 
lover's body over and over again, before collapsing on the 
strong back under him, forcing them both down onto the bed 
below them.

Harry lay quietly, panting on Tom's shoulder, hands just resting 
on the hot, trembling body under him until the man groaned and 
shifted, allowing Harry to slip to the side.

Tom turned his head enough to see his lover and grinned.  The 
perfect Ensign looked totally debauched.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked tiredly, licking his lips as he 
grinned back at Tom.

"You look beautiful," Tom said gently, groaning as he freed a 
hand trapped under him, so he could stroke Harry's arm.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, smiling, using his own hand to restore 
some semblance of order to Tom's hair. "Well, thoroughly fucked 
is a good look on you, too."

Tom laughed almost silently, tiny huffing sounds shaking his 
body, until he couldn't hold it in any better than he had his earlier 
orgasm and roared with laughter, taking Harry by surprise as he 
wrapped himself around his lover.

Harry waited patiently for Tom to recover and burrowed deeply 
into the other man's arms, wishing they never had to let go of 
one another.

Tom gradually stilled, but nothing could remove the warm smile 
from his face as he looked at Harry, hand caressing the golden 
cheek when perfect lips kissed his shoulder.

"So damned beautiful," he murmured, skating his own lips over 
Harry's face, but not really kissing him. He mapped every 
feature with his mouth, until Harry was chuckling softly in his 
arms.

"Ready for more?" Harry asked teasingly as he felt Tom harden 
against him.

Tom groaned, laughing, and rolled on top of Harry.  "I will 
*never* have enough of you," he said smiling seriously down at 
his lover, "but I think I'm finished for a while."

Harry nodded.  It was indescribably intimate, and wonderful, to 
just be able to hold each other.  Finally.

"What are you thinking?" Tom asked him, noting the faint frown 
of concentration on Harry's forehead.

"Just how much I've wanted to do this, and how long, and I can't 
believe you're actually here with me," the words spilled out in a 
rush, the flow warming Tom to his core.  He tightened his arms 
around Harry and bent his head for a kiss, then suddenly 
became aware of movement as Harry rolled them over, and 
rested his chin on the hand on Tom's chest.

"Is that why you made the move to kiss me in the jefferies tube?" 
Tom asked, rubbing Harry's back.

"No, I made the move to kiss you to shut you up," Harry 
complained fondly, remembering.  "You'd been a pain in the ass 
for hours, griping at everything."

Tom sighed.  "I was, wasn't I?" he asked quietly, then quickly 
smiled as Harry frowned.

"I missed something, didn't I?" Harry guessed, seeing Tom flinch 
slightly.  "What was really going on with you that day?"

"I'd been . . indulging myself for a while, thinking of you and me 
together, sort of like this," he clarified at Harry's puzzled look.

"Fantasies?" Harry asked, his voice almost a squeak.  "About 
us?"

Tom nodded sheepishly.  "One of my favorites, one of the 
hottest ones, had you and me in a, um, well . ." he trailed off as 
the light dawned in Harry's eyes.

"In a jefferies tube?!?" Harry asked, snorting as Tom blushed.

"I was just complaining to distract myself from the visions that 
wouldn't stop running through my mind, Har.  When you leaned 
in to kiss me, I freaked.  I'm sorry.  Gods, I should've just let you 
do it . ." Tom covered his eyes with his hand, until Harry tugged 
it away, the warmth and understanding in his lover's eyes giving 
him the courage to go on.

"I thought maybe you'd figured it out and were just teasing me 
with it," he broke off as Harry shook his head.

"I had no idea," Harry said quietly, too quietly, a strange fire 
coming into his eyes.  "And even if I had, I would never be so 
cruel to you."

"I know, I know," Tom said quickly, soothing Harry with slow 
strokes of his hands.  "I didn't really hear you say you were just 
kidding, until I was already in my quarters.  Then I started 
plotting the payback."

"Sandrine's," Harry said with a slight smile curling his lips.

Tom's eyes closed as he sighed.  "Gods, did *that* ever blow up 
in my face," he snorted.

"Subtle, it wasn't," Harry agreed.

"I cursed myself later for not taking you up on it, whatever it was 
you were offering, just to see what you'd do.  It seemed like you 
were giving me exactly what I wanted; I can't believe I ran."

"Why did you?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because you were calling the shots," Tom answered honestly.

"And, what?  If you can't make the rules, you don't play?" Harry 
asked, not angry, just needing to know.

Tom shrugged.  "Not exactly.  I was living with the fantasies. 
The last thing I was prepared to deal with, was the reality.  I 
knew I wouldn't be able to go back, if it ever got this far," he 
finished, as Harry kissed him.  

"Who says you have to go back?" Harry asked reasonably.  "It's 
not like I want this to be a one-shot deal," he paused, thinking. 
"How did the reality measure up to the fantasy?" he queried 
thoughtfully.

"Smashed it to space dust," Tom said with a grin.  "Jefferies tube 
or no jefferies tube."

Harry smiled back.  "We can do the jefferies tube, Tom," he said 
softly, looking around the warm, firelit room.  "This has always 
been one of *my* favorite fantasies . . "

"I can see why," Tom interrupted with an soft leer, before Harry 
hushed him with a kiss.

"I've got quite a few others," Harry said, not meeting Tom's eyes 
anymore.

"So do I," Tom admitted, liking where Harry was going with this.

"How many?" Harry asked, teasing smile covering his face.

"Enough to make me glad we're a long way from home," Tom 
said with gentle sincerity.

"So . . " Harry said, punctuating the word with a sweetly 
passionate kiss.

Tom sighed.  "We are going to have *so* much fun together."  It 
sounded like a promise to Harry's ears.

"Bet on it," Harry quipped, before Tom rolled them over and 
smothered him with kisses.


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