Getting Personal
Part Two
B'Elanna Torres was methodically breaking things. She'd started small, with chair and tables, and had moved on. Now she was racing through an action holonovel, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Buildings smoked, craters yawned, planets shifted their tectonic plates. Chest heaving she paused, dropping her hands to her knees for a moment - but only a moment. There he was again.
She howled and started running. Tom Paris - or a rather battered facsimile of him, fled, but he was too late. She lifted the rocket launcher, strapped improbably across her sweaty back, and fired. There was a screech of ripped air, and a boom. Dust lashed back and she fell to her knees, grinning. As the dust cleared she groaned.
"Computer, halt program." She flopped onto her back. "Oh man. That was a good workout."
"Kim to Torres?"
"Yeah Harry?"
"Are you busy B'Elanna?"
"No. What is it?"
"Nothing. Could I come -- I just wanted to talk to you."
"To me?" she said in surprise.
"Yes. You." She frowned slightly at the strangled laugh Harry gave, a poor attempt at normalcy.
"Uh, yeah, I guess. Look, I'm in the holodeck right now - I've just about finished - how about you meet me at my quarters in ten minutes?"
"Okay, then. See you in, um ten." Harry's voice sounded really extremely nervous. She grinned unkindly.
"Okay then. Torres out." She sighed and smiled happily around the devastation, then hauling herself to her feet, she rolled the kinks out of her shoulders as she dropped the heavy weapon and back pack. She grinned again, and murmured, "I'll be back," to the halted program, and left, chuckling cheerfully to herself.
Back at her quarters she hastily stripped, and showered. Standing with the water pouring down, soaping herself she sighed, the euphoria dissipating. It was nice not to think, once in a while, and the holodeck was the perfect place for it, even if they had taken away her privileges to disengage the safeties.
The sponge was scratchy on her skin, she could feel the dirt and weariness draining away with each swipe of it across her body. Roughly she worked cleanser into her hair, eyes scrunched shut against the soap. <Too much thinking, not enough action,> she twisted letting the water sluice away the soap. <If I had an ounce of real blood, I'd just tell them,> she thought fiercely, and yelped as a finger caught in a tangle as she rinsed her hair. <Fuck,> she slammed her hand against the wall. <Can't even cope with a little thing like a hair pull without whinging. God, no wonder she never wanted you. No kind of bloody Klingon for damn sure.>
With an effort she held herself still. <No time for this,> a rational voice that she was rapidly coming to hate said impatiently. <Harry's coming...>
<Harry.> She scrubbed at the last of the sweat, then lifted her hands to her clean hair, running fingers firmly across her scalp, sighing in appreciation as she massaged away some of the lingering tension. <Well, you've been waiting for this, haven't you?> she asked herself impatiently, dismayed at her own confusion.
The mirror in the tiny bathroom had misted over, and the cooler air as she stepped out of the shower made her nipples crinkle up, and a shiver run through her. She swiped at the glass, and got a brief glimpse of herself, soggy and frowning, before it steamed over again. <What am I going to say? What is he going to say?>
The intercom chirped, and she called, "If that's you Harry, come in. I'll be out in a minute." She yanked on her robe and hurried into the bedroom.
"B'Elanna?" The ensign's low voice called from the living area.
"Be right there Harry. I just need to get some clothes on." She felt herself turning a slow scarlet, and berated herself for it. <What did I tell him that for? Never mind, clothes, right.> A loose top and pants were hastily donned, and she roughly dried her hair, then dragged a comb through it, before ruefully scowling at herself for vanity. <No time to wonder any more.> And then, with a moment of rueful panic for the course she'd set herself, <Oh boy, what am I doing?> Then she was out there, no safeties, thinking, <Kahless, how can any man look so damn edible?>
Harry was standing staring at a painting on the wall. "I haven't seen this before," he said, smiling at her.
B'Elanna smiled back, "It's been there since, oh, Melita Prime. Must be a couple of years."
"Oh." There was an awkward silence.
"So, I--"
"B'Elanna, I-- sorry." They spoke at the same instant.
"Sorry."
"No, go on," he said hastily, staring at his feet, the tips of his ears reddening.
B'Elanna didn't notice, or perhaps she would have been less gruff. "What did you want, Starfleet?"
Harry flashed a quick smile at her for the nickname, and frowned. "I don't want to intrude, but I was wondering, I, - this is kind of awkward actually." He looked it, refusing to meet her eyes until she walked in front of him.
She smiled at him unexpectedly kindly. "Is this about Tom?" she said, and touched a hand to his face, lifting it till he met her eyes. "About me and Tom?"
"Kind of. Not really. Except -- Um. Well. Yes. I suppose."
B'Elanna was abruptly dying to laugh. Or possibly run very far away and cry. "If this is a ploy to get me to go back to him, then it won't work, Harry. We both know the relationship needed something that just wasn't there," <You.> "and it wasn't going anywhere without it."
"But,--"
"When Tom figures it out," <and when you stop fighting us, and get up the nerve to do something about it,> "then maybe it will work out between us," she said solemnly. Harry looked so hopeful at the start of her remarks, and so disappointed when she said she thought it might yet work out, she couldn't help it, she smiled broadly at him.
"It didn't fail for lack of love or desire, Harry. Don't think that."
Harry visibly swallowed, face a careful blank. B'Elanna abruptly regretted teasing him like that. <If I don't encourage him to try one of us, this'll never happen,> she told herself sternly, even as another part gleefully wondered what other buttons she could push.
"But we both have to move on," she added, and took a step closer, into his personal space. He backed away, biting his lip nervously.
"B'Elanna, I--" he hesitated, then took the plunge, "I'm sleeping with Tom." His eyes were on hers, and he didn't fail to catch the glint of amusement, though misunderstanding the source. His hackles rose.
"Do you have a problem with that?" he asked aggressively.
<Problem? Nope. Only the one wishing I could hurry this up a little.> She smiled at him, and said, "No. Why should I?"
"But you just said. . ."
"That something was missing. If it's not meant to be, then it's not meant to be," she lied, doing her best to looked pleased for him. She touched a gentle hand to his wrist. "Honestly, Harry. If you and Tom are happy together - truly happy, then I'm glad." She had to prevent herself from taking a step back when he beamed happily at her. Instantly she panicked, all certainty fled - <Perhaps they will be happy together, without me. Perhaps I should let go, maybe I'm imagining it? Maybe it's just a delusion designed to get them both in my bed, when it just isn't going to happen. . .> Then she had a good thought. <No harm pushing a little.>
She stepped in, even closer, leaning up to his face, at the last moment turning just enough to let the kiss land on his cheek, not his lips. He sighed, letting out the breath he was holding, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. They stood for a long moment like that, until B'Elanna saw desire for her burning in the back of his gaze, felt, rather than saw the first subtle shift of weight that would bring him closer. The moment became charged with expectation, and B'Elanna held his eyes, letting him see everything she felt.
A hand lifted from her shoulder, brushing a damp lock of hair back from her face, running lightly down the line of her jaw, a gentle finger outlining her upper lip, then her lower, leaving a burning mark behind, as if acid etched itself wherever his fingers touched. She could hardly breathe, feeling as though the air in the room had become thick, sluggish, and filled with desire. His face lowered to hers, even as she lifted to her toes, his mouth brushing against her lips as lightly as his hand had a moment before.
Oh, so sweet, all that loving kindness.
Her hands were on his chest, holding onto the connection between them as sheer lust sparked between them, so intense she swore it left an afterglow on her retina. Then her eyes were closed and his hands slipped down her back, gathering her in close, and her lips were giving in to the pressure of his, opening, letting the heated softness inside her mouth, grasping it with her teeth, scraping along it carefully, till she heard a groan deep in his throat, buzzing against her lips. She leaned in closer, pressing her body full length against him. Her breasts flattened against his body, and she could feel the stir of his arousal against her. He moaned into her mouth, and shifted his lips, trying to reach deeper yet into her.
He hugged her close, pulling them together until their skin seemed to meet and merge, and her own arms wrapped themselves around his neck, losing herself in his kiss. His hair was as soft as it looked, from the short stubble on the back of his neck to the silky strands that wound themselves around her fingers even as his own hands moved eagerly across her back, one swooping low over the curve of waist and hip to rest, warm and familiar on her backside. The other held her tightly about the waist, pressing every inch of their bodies together
His lips left hers for a moment, they were both gasping for air. They stood together, leaning contentedly on each other. After a while, B'Elanna tugged at his head, trying to bring it back down to hers. She felt resistance, and opened her eyes. He was staring down at her with horror emerging through the haze of desire.
"Harry?" she asked on a whisper. His eyes cleared further when he heard her unmistakable tones and he jerked away from her.
"No. No! I don't want that! B'Elanna, I don't... I don't," he repeated, changing the emphasis. "I'm sorry," he gasped as he backed away, "I can't - I, I'm sorry!" and he turned and fled.
She stared at the closed door after him, feeling her lips with a wondering finger. Well. She hadn't been deluding herself then.
The dazed smile was slowly replaced by a smirk. She stretched happily, and then groaned as the movement dragged the cloth of her top over her stiff nipples. Idly she brushed a hand across her chest, barely touching herself. She shrugged, and grinned, imagining what Harry was going to have to do to get himself presentable enough to go to his lover. <Payback's a bitch, Tom.>
The thought was no help though she discovered as she realised she was ambling deliberately back into her bedroom, teasing herself with images - the known treasures of Tom's body; of the imagined apricot weight of Harry's, of them both, together. . . Briskly she stripped herself, running her hands up her sides, pushing the close fitting pants over her hips and down her legs.
"Mmm." She sat back on the bed and closed her eyes, picturing Harry's hands drifting across her again, this time pushing her clothing aside, pushing her back onto the bed. The sheets were cool under her shoulders, the blanket slightly scratchy. She wriggled against it, enjoying the touch all along her aching body. She licked the fingers on one hand, sucking the index finger inside, sliding it out, then dipping her head forward to capture it, then the middle finger, the ring finger.
She brushed the moist fingers along the sensitive skin of her underjaw, dragging wet lines down her neck. As the fingers dried she wet them again, drifting down, across one breast, cupping the soft flesh. Her thumb worked circles around her nipple, tracing the edge of the aureole until her back arched, and she did the same for her other breast. Leaving one hand to scratch across her midriff, leaving triple weals across where her nails marked the honey coloured skin, she let her first hand slip slowly down to between her legs. The curls were already damp, when she ran her palm across them they left glistening streaks on her hand.
Her hips lifted slightly, and she allowed herself a more intimate touch, slipping a finger between the wet folds of her labia, moaning faintly as she brushed against the hard nubbin which had been aching since Harry's first kiss. She stilled a moment, conjuring Harry's image. . .yes. . . and Tom. . . She smiled, eyes closed, at the picture before her. Perhaps Harry was even now begging Tom to make love to him, golden skin sliding across pale freckles, arms holding, lips caressing, hands touching. . . "yes, like that," she whispered barely audibly, as her own free hand ran in a long sweep over her hip and down one thigh, legs lifting slightly to allow a single finger to run along the back of her leg, and then back again, trailing around the curve of her ass. Hands cupped around each other's cocks, rubbing and stimulating unbearably, till they came. . . she moaned again, echoing in her solitary room, seeing them, against each other, dark hair close against blond, soft kisses bringing them both down to calm. . . her hand moved between her legs, the other pinching at her nipples, scraping down her body, till her back arched again, and with a silent scream, she came.
"Oh gods. Tom. Harry," she whispered, curling up around her pillow, and drifted into a doze thinking of the two of them, till their images faded, and she slept.
******
Harry was panicking. He had left B'Elanna's quarters at a run, cheeks burning with some twenty or so emotions, and didn't stop till he reached his own rooms. Once inside he set the lock, and stripped, heading straight into the shower. The water was icy, and he gasped and shivered as he turned under the sharp prickles of the hard spray. Finally, the water seemed less of a shock, and he let out a shuddering breath. <What the fuck was that about?> he asked himself silently. He dared a glance down his body to find the shower had done nothing. Roughly he grabbed himself and stroked swiftly, jerking himself off with fast, careless movements. <I'm thinking of Tom. I'm thinking of Tom! Oh God!> A pair of brown eyes looked at him quizzically, <Tom! I'm thinking of..> "Tom! Oh God, oh God, TOM!", and his penis was soft again.
"Oh Tom..." he whispered miserably, and let the water switch off.
He stepped out of the shower, shivering, and grabbed a towel. He stripped the worst of the excess water off his limbs and torso then went to sit on the sofa, nursing a cup of tea ordered from the replicator, ignoring the fading ache in his groin. He leaned forward, staring into the swirling liquid as he tilted it, as if it would contain some kind of answer. He took a sip, then put it down. He rested his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands.
<Fuck.> He drove both hands into his wet hair, pulling carelessly through the tangles. "Oh God." <What the fuck am I going to do?> he covered his face briefly, and sat up, then stood jerkily, pacing, hitching the towel up when it slipped from his hips. <I love Tom. I do.> he told himself desperately. <It was a crush. I'm over it. I love him. Oh Christ.> He leaned his forehead against a wall for a moment, then lifted it, staring at the dull grey paint sightlessly, then let his head drop back with a thump.
Unbidden B'Elanna's face appeared before his eyes again, wanting him, warmth and lust in equal quantities burning their way from her face to him. "No! I can't!" his words came out on an almost sob, and he hit his head against the wall again. <I love Tom. I love Tom.> "Tom. . ." he moaned hopelessly. "I can't want her too. I'm not gonna be like them."
Helplessly he stared at the wall, eyes filled with confused pain. "What am I going to do?" he said quietly. Abruptly he let himself sit on the floor, and buried his hands in his hair again. He took a deep breath, steadying his mind.
"First off, I don't say anything to Tom. I can't believe I could be such a hypocrite." His lips pursed in self-disgust. "Gods, gods, what a fucking idiot! What am I going to do? No. no, that's not going to work. No paniking. I'm not panicking. Okay, I am panicking." He drew another shaky breath, draginn a hand across his face.
"Okay. It happened, it's over, I'm not - I'm not the only one in this! She didn't have to be there all wet and naked under those clothes." Even he paused at that to hear the unreasonableness of that one, and grinned, laughing at himself. "Okay," another deep breath, "Okay. I'm exaggerating. But-- why? Why'd she do it? I thought she wanted Tom. What the hell's she trying to do? Trying to break me and Tom up? Oh gods - she wouldn't. Would she?" What if she went to Tom, told him that Harry had been cheating on him, Tom would be furious. "And I'd deserve it," Harry acknowledged. "It takes two, and I wanted it - her, just as much as she seemed to," he admitted painfully to himself. He dropped his chin to his knees and let his gaze rest on the blank wall. "Maybe I should tell him myself. But then if she says anything, it won't bring him back to her, it'll do just as much damage - but if I tell him he'll leave me. And if I don't tell him and he finds out he'll leave anyway."
"No. . ." he said on a soft wail. "I can't lose him. Not now. I love him. It's not like, -- we didn't do anything... he'll forgive me. Oh please, don't let her have said anything, please...."
The sound of the door buzzer finally impinged on his consciousness, as did the urgent voice coming through his commbadge, lying discarded with his clothes on the bedroom floor.
"Harry! Are you all right in there? Please answer me, Harry. Are you asleep? Please?"
"Tom?" a whisper. Harry lurched to his feet, and swiped at his eyes, only now realising he had been crying.
"Tom?" he said, more clearly, and the sigh of relief was audible even over the intercom.
"Har? Are you okay? Please?" the voice was still urgent, and Harry released the lock guiltily. Tom rushed in before it had fully opened and had Harry in his arms before Harry could do or say anything.
"B'Elanna said you were upset. What is it? Why'd you lock the door?" Tom leaned back to get a proper look at his lover. "Harry," he repeated urgently, "What's wrong, love?"
Harry met Tom's eyes for a split second, then fell again. Part of him was furious with himself, but mostly he was furious with B'Elanna. He pulled out of Tom's arms.
"Nothing," he said hollowly. "It's nothing."
Tom grabbed his chin and turned him. "Har," he said warningly.
Harry tried to avoid his gaze, duck out of his touch, but Tom tightened his grip till Harry gasped, "Ow! Get off me Paris."
Instantly Tom let go, but caught Harry's hand before he could move away. "It's not nothing. Please Harry? I though something awful had happened when you wouldn't answer when I called."
<Something has.> "I'm sorry. I didn't hear," he replied lamely, his head was lifted until he was staring hopelessly into concerned blue eyes.
Tom paused for a long moment, reading the expression on Harry's face. Confusion, misery, pleading. Tom's face twisted and he pulled Harry close, "It's all right. You don't have to tell me. Shh, it's all right."
Harry buried his nose into Tom's chest, pressing his face hard into the solid warmth. "I'm sorry."
"What was that?" Tom's hand was rubbing steadily up and down Harry's back.
Harry repeated it, slightly louder, and with a hint of aggressiveness.
"What for?"
"I love you. I really do."
"I know, I know," he said soothingly, "I love you too." He kissed the curve of Harry's neck. "Please Harry, what's wrong? How can I make it better?"
Harry looked up at that, and Tom was surprised to see that he was dry-eyed. Hoarsely Harry said, "Make me yours? Please? I need you."
"Of course." Tom paused a beat, then looked seriously at Harry. "Is this wise? Do you want to get whatever it is out of your system first?"
Harry's face tilted into a wry smile. "This will cure it," he replied, words laden with meaning. He wrapped his arm around Tom's waist, and they walked towards the bedroom, Tom wearing a very speculative smile on his face.
Harry's hands were already busy stripping Tom as they walked, and they ended up more or less fighting over the clothes, yanking at fastenings, pushing down sleeves and legs, sliding the top up with slow intimate hands.
Harry dropped onto the bed, face down, and tugged Tom off balance until he landed on top.
He spread his thighs, pushing his butt up into Tom's groin, until he could feel Tom's shaft leaking against his ass cleavage. He shivered for a moment, then he swallowed, and relaxed as much as he could.
"Inside..."
Tom groaned, lost in the heat Harry was generating. Mindlessly he shoved forward against Harry, not penetrating, not yet, just making clear how badly he wanted to fuck him.
"Come on" Harry growled, and turned his head to find out what the delay was. Tom lifted himself from Harry's back and knelt back between his legs, admiring the sleek curve of his cheeks, the lightly haired ass, the muscles, flexing so that the small creased circle of muscle hidden between appeared and disappeared. Tom leaned forward and licked delicately at him, then again, more ferociously, pulling Harry's cheeks apart to allow him to bury his face.
"Please!" Harry gasped, feeling the strong wet strokes across his hole, needing more. "God Tom, stop it, please, more, oh, oh!" Tom pushed with the very tip of his tongue into Harry's ass. The muscles clenched, forcing him out, then relaxed again as he thrust against it. The ring gave way a little, and he tongue fucked Harry, gripping his hips, listening to the gasps and moans Harry was giving as the moist muscle of Tom's tongue slid inside a little way - not far enough, then out again.
Tom slipped one hand further around Harry's body, finding the erection he had expected, straining and dripping onto his fingers. Carefully he ran his fingers over the shaft, trying not to over-stimulate. Harry's body was shaking, rolling helplessly into each caress that Tom gave, and then it stopped.
Harry wailed, until Tom's hands were back, one resting on his buttock, the other cupping his balls firmly, working them around with his fingers, letting his thumb stroke at the ticklish underside of his penis. The other hand slid warmly downwards, resting for a moment against his cleft, then a fingertip touched him, the feeling raw and intimate, more pressure, and Harry groaned, spreading his knees wider, tilting upwards . Tom grinned and shoved harder, the finger paused for a fraction of a second at the entrance, then popped in. He didn't go in far, didn't need to, didn't want to, not without lubricant, just enough to let Harry know that Tom was there, owning him, able to do this to him whenever he chose because he was Tom's.
"Please, more," Harry moaned, hands grasping loosely at the bedcovers, desperately scrabbling for something to bring him closer to Tom.
"Shh, come on, mm? Hey my Harry, hsssssh." Tom soothed softly, laying soft warm kisses along the line of Harry's shoulders, across his back and neck, rubbing his cheek, catlike, into the silky soft black hair. He pulled harder with the hand wrapped around Harry's cock, tormenting him even as his words calmed him. "My love, my Harry. Shhh. I'll fix it. I'll do you. Shhh. Shhh." He felt Harry relax around the tip of his finger, and pushed in deeper, blinking slightly as he realised that somehow Harry was slick inside already, He grinned into the back of Harry's neck and whispered, "Got yourself all ready for me, huh?" and bit sharply into the juncture of shoulder and neck, leaving a double crescent of red dashes on the tan skin.
"Huh?" Harry asked hazily, and lost the thought with the feel of Tom's sharp teeth on his skin. Tom licked over the marks, leaving them wet and they chilled in contrast to the burning of the bite marks. "Don't understa -- oh god Tom, again!" The finger had slipped deeper yet, and had just brushed over his prostate, taut and sensitised by his swollen erection.
"Was that good? Hey love? That good?" he whispered comfortingly to the whimpering ensign. He shifted a little, considering how best to do this.
"Tom, I'm sorry!"
Tom blinked, and then stopped dead. "Harry?" He wasn't supposed to be talking. Not at this stage. He was supposed to be feeling, forgetting, enjoying... "Harry?" He pulled his hands away from the warm ass and cock, and let one rest on Harry's back, feeling the shaking start. <Not again,> he caught himself thinking, and scowled ferociously. <Deep breath, Paris. Whatever it is, you're not getting any till he's worked it out.> He rubbed gently over Harry's shoulderblade, absently noting the shaking had increased. <More tears. What now love? I've done everything you asked of me. What more can I give you?>
"Please, Tom, I -- please?" Harry rolled over and stared at Tom, pleading incoherently.
"What do you want, love?" Tom found himself repeating his thoughts of a moment ago. "What more can I do? Please, Harry?" But it was no longer a complaint, just an honest demand for knowledge. If there was something more he could do, something to make this relationship at least work out right, then he'd do it, be it, anything.
"I..." he stopped. How could he tell Tom? After Tom had given up B'Elanna at his demand, how could he tell him that he'd tasted the forbidden fruit. The fruit he had himself banned. "Oh God."
He was getting it. No one had ever claimed Tom Paris was a genius, but he was finally getting it. Harry'd done something. Something he thought - knew, would hurt Tom. "What did you do Har?" He asked quietly, curiously, as though he had all the time in the world to find out.
Frightened brown eyes met knowing blue ones. Harry rolled back onto his stomach, whispering "oh god, oh god, oh god..." in a soft litany of misery.
Tom stroked a hand lightly across Harry's ass. The younger man tried to press himself into the bed, away from Tom's undeserved touch.
"You kissed her, didn't you?" Not that long a jump. Harry wanted her, wanted him. Had panicked only a week before over the idea of trying a threesome. Was denying, furiously, that he had any attraction to his boyfriend's former girlfriend.
"You did, didn't you?" Harry tensed and shook his head, grinding it into the pillows. "No? You know Harry, I think you're lying."
"No!"
"You are, aren't you?" His conviction grew stronger with every sweep of his hand over Harry's backside. "You're shivering so hard, love. What do you think I'm going to do with you?"
He let his hand drift up into the dip of Harry's waist, angling it over the rounded ass cheek, across and back around on the other side. "Did you kiss her, Harry?"
"Yes." The answer was muffled, and spoken with a flinch, as though he expected some blow to follow his confession.
Hmm. Experimentally, Tom swatted at Harry's ass, more of a heavy pat, leaving his hand where it landed. Harry froze.
"Heart?"
Harry lifted his head out of the pillow and turned it mutely towards Tom.
"Now, why did you do that?"
"I didn't mean to!" Harry protested. "I just... I... I don't know. But I won't do it again."
"Promise?" Tom asked mildly.
"Promise," Harry agreed recklessly.
Swat.
"Liar."
"Tom--"
"You liked kissing her, didn't you?"
"No, I--"
Swat. A little harder, a faint stinging left in Tom's palm where it rested on the reddening skin.
"Liar." He rubbed a little at the warming skin. He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "Shall I tell you something. I liked kissing her."
He ignored the despairing, "No, Tom, I promise, I won't..." and shifted around until his back was against the wall, sitting, legs stretched out on the bed, Harry dragged across his lap.
"I think I like this," he said reflectively, and reached one hand into the bedside cabinet. "Aha. I knew it. You're always so organised my love." He flipped the cap of the lube, and squirted a little onto his fingers. "That's better, hey love?" he went on, as he slid two fingers back into the small hole so neatly positioned for access.
Harry's hips shifted, working as they tried to assuage the ache Tom had started inside him.
"So. You kissed B'Elanna, did you, love?" Tom said a few minutes later, trying very hard not to sound as excited as he was. Harry was pushing his ass up onto Tom's fingers, and Tom was sitting back and enjoying the view. Idly, he traced the mark of his slaps to Harry's butt with his free hand. Harry whimpered. Tom's eyebrows lifted. "Did you like this too?" he hissed, leaning down close to Harry's ear and swatting him lightly.
There was a mumbled sound, and Tom blinked slightly. "That sounded like 'I hate you', but I'm sure that can't be right." Swat. "Because here you are, five-ten of grown man, lying over my knees," twist of the fingers in Harry's ass, "All squirming and sweating, just as though you were enjoying yourself." Swat swat. "I'd almost think you were lying." Swat. "Again." Swat.
"Yes, again," Harry moaned, turning his head towards Tom, and it wasn't clear to either whether he was agreeing with Tom or begging for more. Maybe it was both. Tom grinned and pulled his fingers out of Harry's backside. He worked his shoulders a couple of times, shrugging them to loosen up the muscles, then lifted his right hand and slapped Harry's ass, hard. The imprint of his hand was livid white across the tan skin. He struck again, watching Harry's face carefully as he swallowed and began to lose himself in it. Each blow sent a little jolt through Harry's body, Tom could feel his lover tremble and arch towards each blow, slowly running more and more out of control with each carefully gauged blow.
Between Tom's thighs, Harry's cock moved slowly with each hump of his hips, up into the hand turning his ass into a hot zone, down, rubbing through the tight clasp of the sweat-damp legs. He was lost, Tom could only admire the perfection of Harry's surrender. His own dick was straining, and he smiled, lifting his hand away from Harry, who whimpered, lifting his hips into a high arch. Tom's grin widened.
"perfect," he whispered, barely aware he was speaking out loud. He slid a hand over Harry's backside, lingering over the reddened warmth of the spanking. Harry wailed, and pulled his knees under him, pushing up into the cool palm. "Stay there," he added, and scrambled out from beneath Harry. He paused for a couple of seconds as he stood, waiting for the stiffness in his legs to fade. "Back up."
Harry lifted his head and looked at him. Tom waited patiently at the end of the bed, naked, rampany cock pointing straight at Harry's ass. Harry hesitated, then dropped his head and slowly shuffled backwards, until he felt Tom's dick touch his cheek. The head was moist, and slid slickly away from the pressure of Harry's butt.
Tom's left hand stopped him before he fell off the end of the bed, resting on the overheated buttocks. His right hand held his cock, and he lazily pumped himself while leaning on Harry's backside. Then he shifted a little, took aim, gripped Harry's hips in both hands, and shoved forwards brutally, dragging Harry back hard at the same time.
Harry shrieked. Tom was full inside him, shifting slowly settling himself deeper, wriggling a little to drag his cock in small circles, stretching the taut hole, waiting for his lover's harsh breathing to ease. Then he waited a little more.
"Harry?" he whispered, unsure of himself as his lover lay still and shivering before him. He ran a gentling hand over the shaking body, hand sliding through the beads of sweat gathering on the muscular body beneath him.
Harry pushed up. a permission of sorts... Tom's eyes glazed and he moaned as the warm muscle binding his cock tightened and rippled. Then he adjusted his grip on Harry's hips, finding a secure hold, and began to thrust, quick, deep jabs of his cock that only ever half left the warm grip of Harry's loosening anus.
Harry's face was buried in the coverlet. Rucked up at the end of the bed it provided a resting place as his ass was reamed. Tom watched his back as he arched and writhed, watched the flex and close of the hole stretching and narrowing as his cock moved in and out... in a queer shift of perspective Harry's ass was sucking him in, spewing him out, and he was dragged back and forth, controlled by the grip on his cock, by the man in front of him, irresistibly seducing him deeper and deeper, until it seemed impossible he should ever leave, only to be driven out again.
Tom's head lolled back, his deep gasps for air meshed with the thrusts, breath out, thrust forward, breath in, pushed back again... His thrusts slowed and moved into longer strokes, luxuriating in the slick sensation of Harry's body, the sweet tightness, the soft skin opening easily at his touch, the pressure of the sphincters. He ran a hand over Harry's back and lifted it to his lips, tasting the salty Harry-flavoured moisture, moving slower as his hand slid over his lips, his tongue just reaching out to the liquid smeared there, letting his fingers into his mouth, sucking blissfully on his damp fingers, mimicking the leisurely thrusts his hips were still making.
Tension gripped his gut, and he almost fell forward, losing control to the orgasm that overtook him without warning. He didn't stop moving though, couldn't stop, the sweet sensitivity of his cock firing jolts of pleasure through him as he softened. Finally though he couldn't force his way back in after one long pull back, and he swayed towards Harry, only the rounded glans still nestled in his lover's warm backside. He crawled onto the bed above Harry and lay down on him, leaving the warm haven with a final tug that wrenched a whimper from Harry.
"Okay, love?" he murmured tiredly into Harry's ear. Under him Harry was shifting uneasily. "Did you come?" Tom reached beneath them and found Harry hard and unsatisfied. "Sorry, love," he yawned. "I'll just..." his fist closed around Harry's cock with delightful strength for a moment, then slackened and fell away, even as Tom fell into peaceful, satiated sleep.
*********************
Harry didn't move. He was uncomfortably hot, and he could barely breathe with Tom's full weight resting on his back. The tool that had so thoroughly taken him was lying damp and flaccid between his cheeks, close enough to constantly make him want to flinch away. Cold air on the semen running out of his ass sent long, deep shivers through him, and when Tom shifted, the pressure of the man's weight on his back forced the sticky stuff out, oozing in ever thicker, drying trails between his thighs, across his balls and down his cock, until he was lying in a puddle of moisture not his own making. His own cock had deflated long since. For a while he had cried a little in self-pity, but Tom's arms had closed around him, one slipping under his shoulder to cuddle closer.
<I didn't deserve that,> was all he could think. His butt hurt, from the spanking and from the fucking. If he was honest, but he didn't want to be honest, he would say it was no worse than the night before, or any of the times they had slept together in the last two weeks... but it was worse. <You raped me,> he thought miserably. <How could you do that to me?>
Anger gathered and welled in his stomach, driving out the cold of his ass, the pain stoking his outrage, until he rolled over abruptly, uncaring that Tom was knocked to the floor.
"Harry! Ow!" Tom complaining good naturedly, rubbing at his hip where he'd hit the floor. "Mind what you're doing," he added around a yawn. He pulled himself back onto the bed and stretched, finishing by holding his arms out to Harry. "Come on love, let's get warmer, pull the covers up? get some sleep?"
He stood, and clenched his fists for a long, silent moment, longing to hit him...
He wasn't going to do that. That wasn't him. Other people might do that, but he didn't need violence. He could do all the damage he wanted with words...
Tom's eyes clouded with worry, "Har? What's wrong?"
"You." Harry stopped, barely able to say it, barely able to believe Tom didn't even know...surely he knew? Doubt assailed him, and it was a very low, hesitant voice that asked, "Why did you treat me like that?"
"Like...? Like what?" suddenly Tom got it. "I thought you were enjoying it! You came when I was --" he blushed dully, and mumbled, "When I was spanking you."
"I didn';t want to! And I only kissed her. You didn't need to beat me up and rape me!"
Tom's jaw dropped. "I thought you wanted me! You never said no."
"You never asked!" Harry cried, all his misery twisting and melding into fury at Tom. He pulled a fist back and swung, hard. "You mother-fucking son of a bitch, you never asked!"
Tom rolled off the far side of the bed in one quick move, putting it between them. He realised his mistake a fraction of a second after Harry's face shifted into an unpleasant smirk.
"The scene of the crime." He reached down and straightened the covers. "Do you suppose that the ships cameras would have caught any of that?" A quiet, cruel laugh, quite unlike the Harry Kim Tom thought he knew, filled the room. "Your word against mine, and who're they going to believe? Look at me!" He turned and presented his ass to Tom, who caught back a smile and a sigh of desire before they could make things worse. "Look!"
"I am looking -- Harry, hearts-love, did I hurt you?" Tom leaned forwards worry in his voice. "Do you want to go to Sickbay?"
"NO!" he rared. He whirled and positively ran for the bathroom and his robe.
"Har?"
"Har, I didn't mean to hurt you!"
"I did something you didn't like and you beat me!"
"Har! For cryin' out - do you want to go to the captian and have me charged with rape?"
"Yes. No." There was the sound of water running, broken by a sponge or cloth.
Tom's heart sank through his feet with Harry's first reply, only a little comforted by the second. "Har, I didn't mean to hurt you. I thught you were enjoying it - I would never--"
"I know." Harry re-emerged from the bathroom looking cleaner. "I know," he said tiredly. "I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me, can we go to sleep now?"
Tom gaped at him. "No. No, we can't. What is this Harry? One minute you're coming when I spank you, the next I raped you, and a moment after that, we're okay again?" he shook his head. "I don't think so. Harry, what's wrong."
"I, I'm tired," the younger man said plaintively. "can't we leave it?"
"No," he replied gently, "no. I can't let you do that to us. I won't let it fester. Harry - I love you." He held out a hand across the bed. "Please, come here, and we'll work it out?"
"I don't know, no, I don't think that's a good idea!" Harry said hoarsely.
"Please?" Tom pulled back the covers and settled on the far side of the bed, lifting the covers on Harry's side. His arm started to ache, and he wanted to drop it, let him go, give up, when Harry moved. Towards him. Robe wrapped securely about his body he slipped onto the mattress beside Tom, sitting bolt upright on the soft bed.
"I won't touch you--" Tom began, then caught the look of misery that swept Harry's face before smoothing into a bland mask, "Unless you want me to?" he finished smoothly. He shifted a little closer, not breathing, and put a cautious arm around Harry's shoulders. Abruptly, Harry was resting on his shoulder, face buried in his neck. "Didn't we start here?" Tom asked with a half smile, and Harry chuffed against his neck, maybe a sob, maybe a chuckle.
"Come on, what's wrong?"
There was a long silence, broken only by the steady sounds of their breathing. Harry's voice, when he finally spoke, was uneven, catching on words like snagged fabric.
"I, I I'm so tired," he started. "Sometimes I wish it would all just go away." He turned his head a little, far enough that Tom could see part of his face, feel the soft dark hair rubbing under his chin and down the side of his neck. He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry. I kissed B'Elanna - I don't know what came over me, but she --we-- I wanted to see her." He shifted a little uncomfortably. "I suppose I wanted to glat - you know, I'd got you, and she'd lost."
Tom made a sudden movement, quickly curtailed. "I know," Harry went on, his voice slow and reflective. "I didn't do it. Not really. She'd just come out the shower. I could smell that berry wsah she uses. She looked so good," he added, almost to himself.
"All moist, and glowing, and sweet enough to eat," Tom agreed, nodding his chin against the top of Harry's head. "I know what you mean." He pulled Harry in closer. "So...?"
Harry shifted so he was resting on Tom's chest, "So, I kissed her. We said--some stuff, and I left. Ran away, really."
"Hmm." Tom's lips had found Harry's crown and were nuzzling softly there.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. I didn't realise... I thought you wanted..." Tom sounded faintly sick, and when Harry looked up he found self-disgust on his face. "I guess I really did rape you."
"No! no. I mean, I suppose if you wanted to be nasty about it, but then, you could say I deserved it."
"NO!" Tom yelled. "No." his voice gentled. "I don't know where that came from, I suppose I was angry, but you seemed to be enjoying it... I didn't mean it as a punishment. It just got sort of, out of control, somewhere along the line."
"I know. Oh, I don't know. I just - can I go to sleep? I really want to go to sleep."
Tom smiled at the dark head resting against his collarbone. "I'm tired too. Try again in the morning?"
"The talk or the sex?"
"God, the talk. I don't think I'm up to the sex!"
Harry laughed. "Well then, you owe me one, in that case." They snuggled down into the bed together.
"It's a sad thing," Tom said sleepily, "an Ops officer who can't count."
"I can count just fine. Tomorrow your ass is mine." The threat would have been more impressive not wrapped around an enormous yawn.
"Promises, promises," Tom mumbled, and all was quiet, though neither man slept.
***********************
© Temaris 1999
Magnificent Seven stories, Sentinel stories, Star Trek Voyager stories, The Ragbag
Page last updated 21:42 28/03/2006.