Title: One Year of Love
Author: Aeron Lanart
Summary: P/K smut against the background of "Investigations"

He was watching me again today. I could feel the heat of his gaze on
my back as I sat at the conn. I wondered what he was thinking, I
wondered what he thought about me. Was he trying to puzzle out where
his friend, and almost more than friend, had gone? I longed to shout
out to them all,

"Look, It's still me. I'm still here. Nothing's changed." Well that's
not quite true. The rest of them could all go hang, if only I could
explain to him. I wouldn't have done it for anyone else except Kathryn
Janeway, I wouldn't have risked wrecking my life, and possibly my one
true chance of love, for anything, but she had to ask. And I...  How
could I refuse? I wouldn't *have* a life to wreck if it wasn't for
her. She owns me, body and soul. I'm sure she'd be appalled if she
realised I looked at her that way; well, maybe not. I think she must
have a pretty good idea of how I feel about her, of how much I know
I owe her, or else I don't think she would have asked. I can't blame
her for anything, after all, I would probably do the same.

I made the mistake of turning round, and all I could see was the
burning intensity in those eyes, the questions, and more importantly
the acknowledgment of what we had never said. Oh God, how could I
leave it like this. I would though, I knew I would, because that was
what I had to do. There was no way I would drag him down with me, and
that hurt more than anything, knowing that I had to keep my distance
for his sake.

And all I have are memories of what has been the best friendship of
my life, and of a few quietly spoken words in a darkened Sandrine's
one night, that hinted that it could be so much more. Oh how I wish
that we had finished that conversation, but he was tongue tied and I
was in shock, so when the red alert sounded we both ran out of there
grateful for the interruption. Needless to say, it's never been
mentioned again. I know he has wanted to talk to me, but I've been
pushing him away. I can't afford for either of us to acknowledge our
feelings now, not when I know the time is coming that I'm going to
have to leave and possibly never come back, at least not alive. I
think if we did, I wouldn't be able to go through with it and the
last few weeks of pain and eternal regret would have been for nothing.

So we say nothing, but steal glances at each other when we think the
other can't see. I may not be able to see the way he looks at me, but
I sure as hell can feel it. I can feel those brown eyes smouldering,
I can feel the heat on my back and I find myself wondering if his
fingers would be as hot, or his mouth. I lie awake at night, touching
myself, imagining it's his hands on my body, imagining what his kisses
would feel like, how his skin would taste. Imagining, imagining,
imagining. It's all I've got. And I wonder if he is doing the same, if
he longs for my touch the way I long for his, if he cries himself to
sleep after another lonely release, and if he curses Janeway and the
Kazon as much as I do. I suppose I'll never know. I've missed my
opportunity and I won't make things harder for us both than they
already are by asking. I just wish I had the nerve. It's one thing
knowing you are heading into a physical no-win situation, you can
prepare yourself and walk in with eyes wide open, but as Sandrine
would say 'matters of the heart' are so much more complicated, and
I am a coward.

It was to Sandrine's I went on my last night. I kept the lights down
low and deleted all the holo-characters except for her. I found myself
unable to bear the silence, so I started one of the subroutines, a
good old fashioned juke-box. I was also using the last of my replicator
rations on whisky. Talisker to be exact, I needed something that kicked
on the way down, that would warm the cold places inside. I don't know
who I was trying to kid, it would take a very special man to do that
and that just was not going to happen. I sighed, and took another
mouthful of the whisky.

"You never told 'im, did you?"

"How was I supposed to do that, Sandrine? You know what I've been
asked to do." Apart from the Captain and Tuvok she was the only one
who did.

"All the more reason to explain 'ow you feel, mon cher."

"I couldn't," I heaved another sigh. I would have to stop drinking
soon as I was feeling decidedly melancholy. "I wish I had, but I didn't
and now it's too late."

"Too late for what?" Dear God, that voice was like liquid fire running
down my spine. I hadn't even heard him come in. I listened to his
footsteps as he crossed to the bar.

"Too late for what, Tom?" I wouldn't, I couldn't face him. One glance
into those eyes and everything would be lost. He came to stand behind
me, placed a hand on the back of my neck. It burned like a brand, in a
way I suppose it was. The Captain may own me body and soul, but he has
my heart whether he wants it or not. I stared at the surface of the bar
in front of me, but couldn't block out the sight of one elegantly
long-fingered golden hand reaching around me to grab my glass. I felt
him raise the glass to his lips and swallow, before placing it back
down in front of me.

"Please go." I whispered. "You're making this harder than it needs to
be." If anything he moved closer. He leaned down until his mouth was
almost next to my ear and I could feel the heat of his breath against
my skin. It sent a thrill thorough my traitorous body, a shudder that
I could not suppress.

"I don't think so." He breathed. "You might not admit it, but this
needs to happen." I whirled on the stool to confront him and lost
myself in the contemplation of golden skin, ebony hair and the most
amazing smouldering brown eyes. I shouldn't have looked.  He was so
totally beautiful, wearing something loose and black. I tore my gaze
away from that mesmerising sight.

"It can't." I turned back to staring at the bar. Sandrine had
disappeared. Hot fingers were laid against my face, gently turning it
back to face him. I nearly cried at the look in those eyes; all the
love that he had never managed to articulate that night was there,
along with complete understanding that I may yet reject him, for my
sake if not his own. "This is a mistake." I whispered. "You shouldn't
be here." He smiled. Gentle, thoughtful, a little sad.

"Why not? I can't think of any other place I'd rather be. There is so
much that remains unsaid between us, but I think at the moment that is
probably for the best. I don't want to be alone tonight, Tom, and I'm
sure you don't want to be either. Let's forget everything else but each
other, just for tonight at least." I met that gaze with my own, and
sawnothing but shining sincerity and conviction. My last defenses
crumbled.

"If you're sure." The smile widened, and he held out his hand.

"I'm more sure than I've been of anything for a long time. Dance with
me, Tom." I realised that there was something slow, and rather sad
playing. It fit my mood perfectly. I put my hand in his and let myself
be hauled up to dance. We didn't move much, just held each other close,
swaying gently to the music. I felt happier than I had in a long time,
and let the words of the song flow over me. They seemed curiously
appropriate.


Just one year of Love
Is better than a lifetime alone.
One sentimental moment in your arms
Is like a shooting star right through my heart.
It's always a rainy day without you,
I'm a prisoner of love inside you-
I'm falling apart all around you-yeah.

My heart cries out to your heart,
I'm lonely but you can save me.
My hand reaches out for your hand,
I'm cold but you light the fire in me.
My lips search for your lips,
I'm hungry for your touch,
There's so much left unspoken
And all I can do is surrender
To the moment, just surrender.

And no-one ever told me that love would hurt so much,
Oooh yes it hurts,
And pain is so close to pleasure,
And all I can to is surrender to your love,
Just surrender to your love.

Just one year of love,
Is better than a lifetime alone,
One sentimental moment in your arms
Is like a shooting star right through my heart.
It's always a rainy day without you,
I'm a prisoner of love inside you,
I'm falling apart all around you,
And all I can do is surrender.


Once the music finished we just stood close for a while longer. I
revelled in the touch of his body against my own, in the solid heat
of him. In that moment I knew I had to tell him, or at least try and
show him how I felt.

"Harry, I..." He placed his fingers against my lips.

"Shh. It doesn't matter, Tom. I think we both know how we feel, but
I'd rather not say it just yet. It gives me something to hold onto." I
gave him a wry smile, and kissed those fingers where they lay on my
mouth.

"If that's what you want." He chuckled.

"It's part of what I want." He moved his fingers to caress my face,
and rubbed his thumb across my mouth as if he was trying to learn it's
contours. I darted my tongue out to taste it, and kissed it's tip.

"And what else do you want?" I had to ask, although I had a bloody
good idea what he wanted, I just to make sure it was the same as I did.

"Everything," he said, and lowered his mouth onto mine. His kiss burned
into my soul. The touch of those full lips against mine, kissing me
with an abandon I had only imagined was enough to make me throw all
caution to the wind. I returned that searing kiss with a passion and
fervour that I have not felt for a long, long time. I was lost in the
wet heat of his mouth, in the duel of tongues, in the press of his body
against mine and the fact that this was *Harry*. A dream come true, a
wish fulfilled; and the reality was oh so much better than the fantasy.
I pushed him against the bar, grinding myself against him. I was almost
painfully hard and knew he would feel my arousal as I could feel his
against my hip. Without releasing his lips once, I managed to start
fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, trying to get to that golden
skin, the thought of which had kept me awake countless times in the
last year.

At last I was successful, and I ran my hands over the broad expanse
of his chest, pausing to tease his nipples slightly. He shuddered
delightfully, and moaned into my mouth. That moan went straight to
my groin, and I could feel my cock jump in response. Oh God, this
was all I had ever wished for. Harry pulled his mouth away, I
must have made a small sound of protest as he laughed breathlessly.

"Engage privacy lock." Was all he said. I'd forgotten. A vague, half
formed thought about either getting to my or his quarters flitted
through my brain. It was thrown out the window as soon as I felt his
lips against my neck, kissing, sucking, biting. My legs nearly gave
way. Again that breathless laugh. He grabbed my shoulders and reversed
our positions so I was pressed against the bar, rapidly making short
work of my shirt. He flung it impatiently across Sandrine's and began
to explore my body. I should have guessed he'd be as thorough as a
lover as he was doing his job. I don't think he left a centimetre of
my skin unexplored. He nipped and licked and sucked his way down from
my neck to my navel, paying special attention to my nipples and the
hollow above my collarbone. He seemed to know just what would
produce the strongest reaction in me. By the time he reached the
waistband of my jeans I was a quivering, incoherent wreck, drowning
in wave after wave of sensation. I was too far gone to even think
about returning his caresses. It barely registered when he undid my
jeans, and unceremoniously yanked them down with my underwear. I felt
myself being lifted until I was sitting on the bar, barely able to
support myself, and the rest of my clothes were hastily removed. I
think I must have near screamed when he touched my cock for the first
time as he stopped what he was doing.

"Are you okay?" I gave a very strangled sounding laugh.

"As long as you don't stop, I'll be fine." That was all the
encouragement he needed.

He returned to his exploration with fingers, lips, teeth and tongue
with an almost evil looking grin. His fingers were stroking my balls
as he tenderly savaged my inner thighs with his mouth; he bit hard
enough to leave marks in a couple of places, but at this point I was
beyond caring. I just wanted him to carry on. His fingers moved as his
mouth travelled higher, gently stroking the full length of me. God, I
didn't think I'd been this hard since I was a teenager. I was beginning
to zone out on him, the different sensations he was producing starting
to overload my brain. I whimpered when he raised his head from where
he had been nuzzling and licking my balls. He just stared at me, his
eyes black with desire and mirroring what I was feeling. With a small,
teasing smile at one corner of his mouth he wrapped his hand more
firmly round my erection and gave it a couple of gentle tugs. I moaned.

"Damn you, Harry. You're killing me!"  He just continued to smile.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured. I obliged, raising an eyebrow
in query. I was rewarded by such a hot look from those eyes that I had
to close mine, or risk coming on the spot. "Yeah, like that," was the
softly spoken answer. I swear I had no idea of what he had in mind. He
returned his mouth to my balls, which made me gasp though I didn't
move, but instead of moving *up* he moved down, teasing at my
perineum with his tongue and lips while still fondling my cock with
his clever fingers. I dimly heard someone breathlessly crying out,

"Oh God, oh God. Don't stop!" only half aware it was me. I'd never
expected Harry to make me feel like this. Don't get me wrong, unlike
the majority of the crew, I *knew* he wasn't the complete innocent he
appeared to be, I'd just never expected to be on the receiving end.
And now I was. It was incredible, no, more than incredible, it was
amazing. Harry chose that moment to do something dangerously wonderful
with his tongue. This time I did scream. I was drowning. All I could
feel were his hands on my cock and his tongue in my ass. Never, never
in a million years had I expected to feel this, but Dear Lord, it was
good.

I don't know how he managed it, but he stopped just short of bringing
me over the edge. I didn't know whether to thank him or curse him. He
pulled me into a more upright position and hugged me tight, before
releasing me again. I've never really seen Harry shine before, but he
was then. His eyes were sparkling and his face was almost incandescent.
I reached out to trace those full, sensuous lips.

"Any more tricks up your sleeve Mr. Kim?" If anything the smile got
even wider.

"Just one." He reached for my forgotten glass of whisky and took a
reasonably large mouthful. He didn't swallow. I had a sudden inkling
of what he was going to do.

"Oh God," I moaned. I didn't seem to be capable of saying much else.
Then his mouth was on me, surrounding me with it's own warmth and the
warmth of the whisky. He ran his tongue around the head of my cock, I
could feel the liquid swishing around in a strangely erotic counter-
point. I swear he was *teasing* me with that incredible mouth of his.
Next thing everything tightened around me as he swallowed, and then
all that surrounded me was Harry. I was gasping by this point, unable
to string two words together, never mind a coherent sentence but I'm
sure Harry realised what he was doing to me by that very evidence. He
started to suck me hard, I think he'd got tired of waiting, and my
vision fogged completely in a haze of lust and desire. I had to clamp
my hands on his shoulders, or risk falling from my precarious position
on the bar and I although I really wanted to feel his hair beneath my
fingers, I knew that if I did bury my hands in that soft, heavy mass I
would be likely to tear great chunks of it out when I came. Somehow I
didn't think Harry would appreciate that, though it would be something
to remember me by. I barely felt the lingering caress of his fingers
moving against the skin of my thighs once more, I was too wrapped up
in what his mouth was doing to me, but he sure as hell got my attention
when I felt one gentle finger press against, and then carefully enter
me. That was all it took, with the feeling of his finger in my ass and
his mouth round my cock, my orgasm finally started to build up past the
point where I could no longer hold it back. Then he moved his finger,
scraping it gently over my prostate. I screamed my throat raw, I could
hear it echoing round Sandrine's, as I pumped into his mouth feeling
him swallow torrent after torrent of my release.

I came back to myself still sitting on the bar, but with his arms
wrapped tight around me and his head against my chest. He was breathing
almost as heavily as me. I leaned down to capture his mouth with my
own, noticing the traces of my semen at the corner of his mouth. The
kiss was long, and hot, and served to remind me that one of us still
had unfulfilled desires, especially with the taste of myself on his
tongue.

"Harry, that was wonderful. You're amazing."

"I aim to please." That was said with the cheekiest of grins. I think
he's been mixing with me too much. I gave him a totally unselfconscious
smile.

"Oh you did that all right." I slithered off the bar to stand chest to
chest with him. "Now let me." He caught my hands.

"Stop."

"Stop? Why?" He just gazed deeply into my eyes, I felt the breath catch
in my throat at the force of emotion I saw in them.

"Tom, I..." He stared at me for a moment longer, with nothing hidden
>from  me. I knew what he was going to ask, and I was more than ready
for it. "Tom, I really want to fuck you, but..."

"Shh. What makes you think I wouldn't want you to? This is for us
Harry. Nothing that's gone before matters now, just you and me." I
could feel the relief coursing through him. "But let's take it back to
my quarters, hey? I want this to be on a bed, not the bloody pool table.
I want drive you completely insane with desire, and know that it's *me*
who's done that to you, and I want to see your face when you come." I
reached out to caress his face again. "You're beautiful, Harry." I bent
to kiss him again, pulling him hard against me. I couldn't help but
feel the hardness of his erection where he was pressed against me. I
plundered his mouth with a thoroughness that startled me, twining my
tongue with his, nipping at his lips. He pulled away first, breathless
and gasping.

"Carry on like that Tom, and I'll come in my pants right here. If
we're going, lets go."

I grinned at him, pleased that he was reacting that way. I began to
pick up my clothes, pulling them on as fast as I could. I found Harry's
shirt and passed it to him, he smiled his thanks and drew it on, but
didn't bother fastening it. I looked at him. "What?"

"Please fasten it, Harry, or I don't think we'll ever get to my
quarters."

"But you're only going to take it off again."

"I know. Just fasten it, will you." I could already feel the first
stirrings of reawakened arousal. He smiled at me, a bright, happy grin
and obliged. I began to cast my eyes around the bar for my shirt. To
my utmost shock Sandrine shimmered into existence in one corner of the
room and bent to pick something off the floor. My missing shirt. I
think we both must have been staring open mouthed at her. She smiled.

"You are looking for this, ne'est-ce pas?" I nodded dumbly. "Don't
worry, mes chers, I did not stay to watch." She wandered over to press
the shirt into my almost nerveless hands. "Bien. Now you must go. There
is much to say and do this night, hmm?" She turned away and shimmered
out of existence again. Harry was staring at me incredulously.

"Did *you* program her to do that?"

"I'm not sure. I can't remember. I do remember suggesting to her that
it would be nice if she could turn herself off if people appeared to
have forgotten about her while Sandrine's was running. I think B'Elanna
was there that night, so it's probably her modification."

"Remind me to thank B'Elanna sometime."

"Likewise." I turned towards the door, held out my hand. "Coming?" He
just gave me another one of those smouldering looks.

"Soon, I hope." He put his hand in mine and we left the holodeck
together, shutting down the program on the way out.

We barely spoke on the way to my quarters, barely even *looked* at
each other, though I must admit I did entertain ideas of halting the
turbo-lift to see what would happen. Scratch that. I *knew* what would
happen, and funnily enough, I didn't want it to be in a turbo-lift.
This night could well be our only opportunity to express what we had
both so long denied and I wanted it to be right, in case it was all
Harry had to remember me by, once I had gone. And as for me? Well,
everyone likes a few good memories to take with them to the grave and
I had certainly never imagined anything as sweet as this. But that was
for tomorrow. Tonight, I was just determined that we would enjoy each
other and savour the experience of learning each other's bodies. Hand
in hand we slowly made our way to deck four, and my quarters.

Harry surprised me again. The door had barely closed behind us before
he pounced on me, kissing me as if his life depended on it. I tried to
drag him into the bedroom, rather unsuccessfully I must admit, and in
the end just surrendered to his passion. He ripped my clothes off even
faster than he had in the holodeck, sending his own after them this
time, barely pausing in his exploration of my mouth. At last we stood
facing each other, naked, chests heaving and just *looked* . I reached
for him.

"Wait," he said, and turned on his heel to approach the replicator.
After a few softly spoken commands he turned back to face me with a
tube in his hand. He gave me another hot and hungry smile. "Lube. We'll
need it." I could only nod in agreement. The thought of why we would
need it was almost making me dizzy with the lack of blood to my brain.
I guided him into the bedroom, and pushed him down onto the bed.

I gazed down at him, running my hands over the smooth planes of his
face, the sweet line of his throat, the breadth of his shoulders. He
was warm, vibrant, alive under my fingertips.

"Do you realise how long I've wanted this to happen? How long I've
dreamed of having you here, naked before me?" I barely recognised my
voice, it was husky with desire and long suppressed emotion. Harry
tipped his head back to look at me with hooded eyes and the ghost of
a smile.

"As long as I have?" I sat down next to him on the bed, taking one of
those beautiful hands in my own, tracing the lines on the palm, the
length of the fingers. I slowly raised my eyes back to his.

"I never thanked you for coming back to Sandrine's for me tonight."

"When I saw you sitting there, I couldn't do anything else. You looked
so quiet. So sad. So *alone*. I hate to tell you this, Thomas Eugene
Paris..." He said this still with that faint smile hovering on his
lips. "...but while I'm around, you'll never be alone, not truly." I
couldn't answer that, not with the look he was giving me, or the
lustful thoughts that were going through my head.

"Harry." I raised his hand to my lips to drop a gentle kiss into his
palm. At least that's what I intended it to be, and that's how it
started out, but in no time at all I was tracing those self same lines
on the palm of his hand with my tongue and nibbling at the pulse on his
wrist, revelling in the taste of him. One by one I sucked his fingers
into my mouth, twirling my tongue around them, gently nipping the very
tips. He gasped. I don't think Harry had given any thought to how
wildly erotic something as simple as kissing someone's hand could be.
His reaction merely fanned the flames of my desire higher and higher
until I decided I had to do something about it. Now.

I released his fingers, receiving a whimper of protest in return, and
pushed him down onto the bed.

"Move up," I said. He obliged until his legs were no longer dangling
over the edge. I stared at him, drinking in every centimetre of that
exposed, golden flesh as it gently gleamed in the light. He was
beautiful; from the top of his wonderfully thick hair to the tips of
his well shaped toes. I had to laugh at myself, I'd never before
thought of feet as anything more than something to walk on, but
Harry's made me think of foot rubs, and tickling and toe sucking.
I had it bad. And for tonight, maybe only ever tonight (I pushed away
the intruding thoughts of my probable death) he was mine, and
I was his. Body, heart and soul. Complete. Together. The way it was
meant to be.  Why had I left it so long? I did actually know the
answer,and it was all to do with friendship, but that was something I
no longer had to worry about. I could see he was starting to get
uncomfortable under my scrutiny, so I had to give him some sort of
explanation.

"Harry, you're gorgeous." He smiled up at me, a truly devastating grin
that melted my insides.

"You don't look so bad yourself from down here." He reached out for me,
pulled me toward him. "There. Now I can see you so much better." We
were almost nose to nose. Without any further ado he latched his mouth
onto mine and pulled me down on top of him. Did I protest? No fucking
way. I was in heaven, and it was hot, and wet, and Harry's. We kissed
for what seemed like an eternity, tongues tangling, teeth nipping,
until we both had to pause for breath. I raised my head to look down
at Harry, at his flushed face and kiss-bruised lips. If he'd been
gorgeous before, now he was dazzling, almost radiant, and it was *my*
fault.

I licked at the small mole on his upper lip, something I'd wanted to
do for ages, and then decided to explore the rest of his face with my
lips, remembering every contour, every spot that provoked a shiver or
a moan. I discovered he had incredibly sensitive ears and I licked and
nibbled at them with delight until he was almost as much of a quivering
wreck as I had been earlier. Then and only then, did I start to travel
south. I didn't get much reaction when I kissed his neck gently, or
his collar bones, or his shoulders which actually surprised me as from
his reaction so far I had expected Harry to be one of those people with
erogenous zones almost everywhere. I changed my tack slightly, moving
back to the base of his neck, and bit down, hard, but not hard enough
to break his skin. I'm not a Klingon for God's sake, and although I'm
sure the taste of blood is very arousing for some people, I'm not one
of them. Plus the fact I was aiming for pleasure, not pain. I was
rewarded with a gut-wrenching moan. A good moan, one full of surprise
and desire. I laved the bite with my tongue and produced a definite
shiver. Oho. Bite him first and *then* he enjoys being licked. I filed
that piece of information away for later use and continued my journey
down his body, nipping just a little bit harder than I had originally,
producing more moans, more shivers. I felt his hands slide off my back,
it seems he could not control them any more. Good.

I finally reached his nipples. They were perfect, just like the rest of
him, and already erect,  just like certain other parts of his anatomy.
And mine. I gently sucked one of the brown nubs into my mouth, twirled
my tongue around it. Harry shrieked. I removed my mouth in concern,
some men *hate* having their nipples sucked. Not me, I must admit, but
it looked like Harry might do. He shot *that* idea down with two
breathless, gasping words.

"Don't stop. *Please* don't stop. I'll kill you, Tom. I swear I will.
I... Ooohhh." I fastened my mouth back round one nipple, and gently
began to tug on the other, carefully rolling it between my fingers. He
cried out again, not quite a scream, but not far off it. I felt so
powerful, so *alive*. The sounds Harry was making were almost
intoxicating, I was seriously turned on. It didn't matter that I'd
already come once. Bad mistake that. The thought of how it had felt to
have Harry's lips on me, to come in the hot cavern of his mouth stopped
any rational thought in it's tracks. I wanted to be fucked, *really*
wanted it. The thought was a little surprising in its intensity. Well
maybe not; this was *Harry*. I raised my head again.

"Tom!" Harry wailed in protest. I grinned at him.

"Don't complain too much. I've got something to ask you." He looked
faintly  bemused. *Shit*. Puzzled and aroused in one expression is a
bit startling.

"What?" I ran my fingers lightly over his nipples again, just to see
his reaction.

"I want you to fuck me." The eyes widened. He hadn't expected that, or
at least he hadn't expected it *then*.

"You want..."

"I want you to fuck me. Now. Please?" He groaned. I felt his cock leap
in response from where it was trapped against my body. Then he gave me
that killer smile again, his eyes glinting with an unholy light.

"You asked, remember."

"Fine. Just..."

"I remember, you want to see me when I come. No problem." Effortlessly
he flipped us over, so our positions were reversed. He's a lot stronger
than he looks. I think it's all in the shoulders. Most women I know
seem to look at them as just good shoulders to cry on, I was looking
at them as good shoulders to hang onto while I was having my brains
fucked out. I shivered in anticipation.

His touch was electric. It didn't seem to matter where he touched me,
or whether it was with his mouth or his fingers; every gentle brush of
his lips, every soft touch of his hands almost sent me into a frenzy.
I could hear myself whimpering and pleading with him to hurry up and
fuck me already, but it seemed that Harry was determined to tease. His
fingers slowly drifted down my body while his mouth devoured mine. The
kisses had changed from the merest brush of his lips against mine, to
hot, hungry and demanding, the thrust and tangle of our tongues
deliciously accompanied by the dance of his fingers on my heated skin.
He moved his kisses downward, but they didn't change in intensity. If
anything they got hotter, as he sucked at my skin greedily, like a
starving man, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake. I didn't care,
it felt so good. I was alive, I was free. Harry was giving me wings
with every sensual touch and I was euphoric with it.

With a thrill, I realised where his fingers were heading. At last. It
felt like he'd been teasing me forever. As his touch wandered past my
cock, and over my balls, cupping them gently in his hands, I almost
felt like singing. Singing! Me! Instead, I groaned, and whimpered some
more.

"Please, please, please." With an answering groan, that I felt rather
than heard as his head was still pressed up against my chest, he
finally dipped his fingers into the cleft of my ass. I near shot off
the bed. I swear, it never had felt like this before; but then it
had never been Harry before, either. I guess what they say about love
making sex so much better is true. Now he was gently rubbing a finger
across my asshole. I was begging again. The fingers disappeared, only
to return cool and slick with lube, demanding, and then gaining entry
to my body. First one, then another. He was moaning almost constantly
now, but I still couldn't quite make out the words. Most of them
sounded like 'Tom'. I was gasping as those long, agile fingers stroked
into me, so good, so unbelievably wonderful. Then he went after my
prostate again, and I screamed. Again. For a few seconds his fingers
stopped moving and he raised his head to look down at me.

"You really like that, don't you?" He looked thoroughly delectable,
all flushed and burning with desire. For me.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I gasped out. He demonstrated, again.
This time my scream was more of a strangled croak as he lowered his
mouth onto mine with fierce possession, swallowing my cries. Eventually
he raised his head again; I whimpered a protest, he wiggled his fingers
inside of me, I shrieked.

"That's three now. Think you're ready for me yet?"

"Ready? Shit, yes.. Please... Please fuck me. I want to feel you come
inside me."

The next few  seconds passed in a blur and a haze of sensation. I don't
remember him pulling his fingers out of me. Or moving between my legs.
Or raising my hips up on a pillow. But he did all of these things, and
the next thing I was fully aware of was the blunt head of his cock
pressing against my asshole. "Inside me Harry, please. *Now*." And
slowly, oh so agonisingly slowly he pushed into me. He filled me. So
totally and completely filled me. It was unbelievable. I gazed up at
him and caught such a rapt, almost exultant expression on his face that
it made the breath catch in my throat. He let out a low moan, one that
was full of passion.

"I'm inside you Tom. At last I'm inside you. And you feel wonderful."
He pulled back and then buried himself deeper inside me with one smooth
thrust. At that we both moaned, our cries joining as our bodies were.
Gradually we found a rhythm, but Harry's thrusts were still too slow,
too *careful* for the way I was feeling. I tried to pull him in deeper,
but it's a bit difficult to manage when your legs are somewhere by
your ears.

"Harry. *Please*..." The rest of what I was going to say was lost in
another moan as he thrust into me again.

"Please what?" He gasped. He tossed his hair back, it was starting to
get matted with the sweat forming on his forehead. His whole body was
flushed now, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. If he did
what I asked him, neither of us would last much longer.

"Fuck me harder." His whole body stilled as he pierced me to the very
core with that burning gaze.

"Sure?"

"*Please*." Oh God, he had that smile on his face again.

"Remember, you..."

"...asked... I know. *Harry*." He didn't reply with words, just slammed
into me hard, just this side of painful. *Shit*. He felt good, so hot,
so."Aaahh! ...Yes... Harry... More..." Again. Again. Again. I was
totally beyond words by then, and Harry nearly so. Our eyes were
locked as we surrendered to each other, possessed each other, shared
each other. One being with eyes of brown and blue. I was losing it,
I could feel the wave threatening to rise up and engulf me, but I
wanted it to take him too. "Harry... I'm..." No breath for more than
that.

"Yes, Tom... Yes... Feel me...inside..." Harry was gasping, and
beautiful, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful... and coming. Hard.

"...Tom!..." I could, I could feel him. Spilling his essence deep
within me, filling me, possessing me. I followed him over the edge
with a last breathless scream as he collapsed on me, sandwiching my
spurting cock between us.

We fell straight from orgasm into insensibility. The next things I
consciously remember are feeling cold, lying in a decidedly wet patch
and being slowly squashed to death by a sleeping Harry. His head was
nestled against my shoulder, and he was breathing deeply, almost
snoring. I hated to wake him, but I really wanted to do a bit of deep
breathing myself, and couldn't with him lying on me. Turning my head
slightly, I found I was ideally positioned to whisper in his ear.

"Harry?" I breathed. He nuzzled in a bit closer, but didn't wake.
Obviously I was going to have to resort to shock tactics if I wanted
to breathe properly again. Gently, tenderly, I started to suck, then
nibble his ear lobe before exploring the rest of his ear with my
tongue. I managed to get a very drowsy,

"Mmm  's good," out of him, but he *still* didn't move. I began to be
a little more persistent in my attentions. God, I was enjoying this,
even if I couldn't breathe. He woke suddenly, and completely, with a
shudder and a gasped  "Tom!" I gave him a very gentle hug, after all I
didn't want to squash myself any further.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Now would you *please* get
off me?" He obliged, and rolled to one side of me, taking what felt
like half of my chest hair with him. "Ow!" We had stuck together
without me realising it.

"Sorry." I'm sure he did mean it, but it was said with what sounded
suspiciously like a giggle. I kissed him soundly to shut him up, pulled
the covers over us, and held him close. I felt like we were still
joined, not by body any more, but closer than that. By spirit, by soul,
by love. I loved him so much, and I couldn't even pinpoint when I
first realised what I felt for him. It seemed like he had *always* been
there, just waiting for me to open my eyes to the truth. I smoothed
the hair back from his forehead, he looked thoroughly disheveled, and
utterly divine. I *had* to tell him.

"I meant to tell you this that night in Sandrine's, but I couldn't. I
didn't know how."

"Tom, don't."

"But..."

"Please?" Oh well. If that was the way he wanted it, that was the way
we would play it. I could see the love in his eyes, and I sure as hell
knew what I was feeling, so I didn't really understand what the problem
was. We cuddled for a bit longer, sharing the warmth, and the closeness.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we should hit the shower. We're both kind of  sticky."

"You got that right. Your fault, remember." Oh I remembered all right.
I don't think I could ever forget it. Watching him come inside me,
*feeling* him come inside me, was like having some sort of transcendent
experience. I'm not surprised I had come all over us. He leaned over
to plant a firm and loving kiss on my mouth, before wriggling out of
my arms. In no time at all he was standing by my bed, glorious in his
nakedness, and softly smiling at me through the curtain of his hair.
He held out a hand. "Come on, then. Lets get wet." I couldn't help it,
I laughed. It was a laugh of delight and sheer joy. I grabbed his hand,
hauling myself up out of the bed, gathered him close and then danced
him round the room, just for the sheer hell of it. And all the while I
was telling him,

"I love you, I love you." But silently, in the confines of my own mind.
I think he knew, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was doing the very
same.

Eventually we near fell through the door of the bathroom, breathless
and laughing. I almost felt giddy with happiness, I could almost forget
that this was it, that I'd never have this opportunity again. Almost.
Some things you can never forget, no matter how much you wish you could.
I pushed the thought aside, it had no place here, not tonight. Tonight
was mine and Harry's, to laugh, to love, to simply *be*. And to 'get
wet'. I chuckled, even as I started the water running. Oh yes, it had
to be water. I hadn't said anything, but I'd always had this fantasy
about showering with Harry. Ulterior motive? What's that? We *needed*
to get clean. Desperately. Dried semen is *not* the prettiest or the
most comfortable accessory, especially when it's matted in your chest
hair. I dived into the shower, pulling him in after me.

For me, a water shower is always a sensual experience, even when I'm
on my own. There's something about it that screams 'freedom' and 'life'
to me. Sonics always remind me of New Zealand. You'll never catch me
spending any longer than necessary in a sonic shower, two minutes max.
But a water shower? If I've got the water rations half an hour sounds
about right. Longer if I can. There's just something curiously
wonderful about the touch of water on naked skin. I like skinny dipping
too. Absent mindedly I had begun to wash myself down, only to have the
gel firmly, but gently removed from my grasp.

"Let me." *Let* him! *Shit* There was no way I was going to stop him,
no fucking way. Not when he had just stepped right into the middle of
my fantasy with no prompting whatsoever. With unholy delight, I
surrendered completely to his touch, melting under the skillful
ministrations of those hands. He didn't just wash me, he massaged me,
easing the tension of the last two months out of my neck and shoulders,
thoughtfully rubbing my back. Carefully he pulled me against him, so
my back was in contact with his chest, and slowly began to wash mine,
running his fingers through the matted curls there, gently grazing a
nipple once or twice. His chin was on my shoulder, his lips next to my
ear. He kissed me.

"You know, I've always wanted to do this," he whispered, swirling his
fingers contentedly on my skin.

"What? Wash me?"

"Mm-hmm." He continued to move his hands lower, he was caressing now
as much as washing. Not that I was complaining. Anything but. Hands
splayed across my belly, he drew me back even closer against his body,
close enough for me to feel the rapid hardening of his cock against my
ass. I was already erect, had been almost since he began to wash me.
Hands continued to drift downwards from my belly, still washing, but
caressing too. I leaned back against him with a moan as he cupped my
balls in one hand while running the other all over my hard length. "You
feel so good in my hands, Tom." I spluttered. I think I also must have
swallowed some water. Concern. "Tom, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I think you've got magic in your fingers. You make
me feel , oh I don't know... Wonderful. Amazing." *Whole*. I really do
love you, Harry.

"Then you won't mind if I ask you to fuck me?"

"Mind?!" Oh God, oh God, what had I done to deserve this? I had Harry,
in my shower, asking me to fuck him. Unbelievable. Tell us your
innermost fantasies and we will fulfill them. *Shit*. Harry, had you
turned psychic or something with out letting on? It certainly seemed
like it. "No, I won't mind." It was said with a slight chuckle, of
disbelief more than anything else.

"Good. Tom, will you fuck me. Here. In the shower?" I'm surprised my
legs were still holding me up. His voice was low, and husky with
desire. He pressed his lips against the wet skin of my neck. They
burned. He began to gently nip a path from my neck to my collar bone.
"Please?" It was said with the merest puff of breath, but that breath
blazed a trail straight to my groin. I whirled in his arms and pressed
my hot and rigid body up against his, pressing him back against the
wall. Our cocks jumped at the contact. We both moaned.

"I'd love to," I whispered.

First though, I washed him as carefully and as tenderly as he had
washed me. By the time I reached his cock he was writhing under my
touch. I let my fingers wander. Up over the head, down the shaft,
gently teasing his foreskin. It was beautiful, and suited him
perfectly. My fingers drifted lower, caressing the heavy sac between
his legs, while one hand snaked around him to caress his ass, squeezing
gently, before I dipped my fingers into the cleft between his cheeks.
Harry wailed, a breathless, frantic sound.

"Tom!... Please Tom... Please fuck me."  I sure as hell didn't need
any urging. The desire to bury myself in that hot, responsive body was
almost overwhelming. With the water still beating down on my back, I
turned him round to face the wall. He automatically bent, clasping
onto the rail. I stared at him, at that long smooth back, at that
tight ass, all that luscious golden skin. Waiting for me, wanting me.
With a last effort at conscious thought before the haze of lust
completely engulfed me, I searched for something more appropriate than
shower gel to use as lubricant. I knew I had some in here somewhere,
eventually I found it. Oil. I usually used it for a dry skin problem;
this would be so much more fun.

Gently, I spread the cheeks of his ass, merely brushing one oily finger
over the puckered opening. His reaction was all I could have wished
for. He wailed, and shuddered, and screamed for more. I let that
wandering finger gain entrance. Slowly carefully, pushing gently so as
not to hurt him. Harry had other ideas, and pushed himself back onto
my finger. His groan was met with one of my own.

"More. *Hurry*."

"I don't want to hurt you," I protested. He clenched his muscles down
on my finger. Hard. I was just glad I only had one in there or it
would have really hurt.

"You won't." He ground out.

"But..."

"*Please*?" Oh what the hell, if he wanted it hot, hard and fast, then
I could certainly give it to him that way. Another oily finger was
inserted, then a third. To get my own back I felt for his prostate,
flicked over it once, twice. He screamed, probably as loudly as I
had, but it seemed louder, trapped as it was by the confines of the
shower. Payback can feel so good. "Tom... Now you... Please..." I
pulled my fingers out of his ass, coating my erection with liberal
amounts of oil. I really *didn't* want to hurt him, no matter how hard
and fast he thought he wanted it. To the best of my knowledge he
hadn't been fucked by a guy since arriving on Voyager. Mind you,
neither had I. I pressed my cock up against the entrance to his
body, slowly pushing into him, carefully driving myself home. Home.
It may be trite, but that's what it felt like.

Harry, like I had earlier, thought I was going too slowly, and drove
himself back against me, impaling himself on me, taking me deep inside
him. I think we both screamed. And suddenly I couldn't hold myself
back any more. He was so hot and so tight, and he felt better clenched
around me than anyone has ever felt before, male or female. I was
flying, I was in heaven, I was in *Harry*. I thrust into him again and
again, him matching me thrust for thrust, cry for cry. We were both
incoherent with our need for each other, with our need for release.
There was nothing else, just the heat, and the feel of tight flesh. I
reached around him to pump his cock in time with my thrusts, I wanted
us to come together again. I wanted it to be perfect. Nearly there,
I was nearly there. Harry fell over the edge before I did, his come
spurting hot and sticky over my hand, over his chest, screaming my
name at the top of his voice. I've never heard my name sound like that
before. His muscles clenched around me unbelievably; I lost it, and
emptied myself deep within him.

I near collapsed on his back, my breath sobbing in my lungs, my cock
rapidly softening inside him. I wrapped both arms around him and drew
him slowly upright into the haven of my embrace, feathering gentle
kisses across his face. We stood, gasping, under the rapidly cooling
stream of water, letting it run down our bodies, washing the sweat and
the semen away. At last we had to get out, or risk freezing.

With the utmost tenderness, we dried each other off. The mood being
shattered by a loud grumble from the vicinity of my stomach. I could
feel the flush rising up my body, all the way to my face.

"Sorry." He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight.

"Hey, it doesn't matter. I'm hungry too." He wandered over to the
replicator. "My treat?" I knew what I wanted without even thinking
about it.

"Tomato soup."

"Hot, plain. Yeah, I know." He smiled at me with such sweetness my
legs almost buckled with the force of it. While he busied himself with
the replicator, I changed my sheets. There was no way either Harry or
I were sleeping in a wet patch. Not tonight. Maybe some other time...
I shook my head to clear it. That was just wishful thinking, I knew it
wasn't going to happen. Harry appeared by my side, proffering the soup.
We perched on the bed, slurping contentedly for a few minutes. Soup
finished, I put the bowls on the floor and folded Harry into my arms.
He sighed, and settled against me. I stroked his hair, kissed his
eyelids and wished that he'd let me tell him how much I loved him. I
didn't try again. His eyelids were drooping, I gently brushed my thumb
across them.

"Any regrets?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Not about tonight." I think I knew what he was implying, didn't ask.
His face was suddenly split by an enormous yawn. I pulled the covers
down on the bed and picked him up. Not an easy task, but he was near
enough asleep on his feet. I settled him into bed and snuggled up
against him, watching as he slowly drifted into sleep. It didn't take
long. I was just glad that he didn't need the mask any more, it spoiled
the serene beauty of his face. I watched for a while longer, imprinting
every line, every curve, every nuance of his face and body on my mind.
Memories to warm me in the cold and lonely nights that waited for me.
Softly, I trailed a finger down his face. He was asleep, he couldn't
stop me now, so I said those words with everything that was in my
heart.

"I love you, Harry." Emotionally drained, I lay myself down beside him,
and followed him into sleep.

Waking up next to Harry was sheer bliss. Then reality came crashing
down on me. Today I was leaving. Leaving a man I truly loved, leaving
the only place where I had actually been content in years. And for
what? Because the woman who owned me had asked, had *needed* me to do
this. I glanced at the time just as Harry began to stir, propping
myself up on one elbow so I could watch him better.

A naked, half-asleep Harry is something wonderful to behold; he's full
of a kind of drowsy grace that you wouldn't suspect he possessed from
knowing him in his day to day life. As I watched, he opened his eyes
with a smile, and just stared at me, reaching up to brush his fingers
across the marks he had left on my chest.

"I love you," he announced simply. I was totally stunned. After not
once letting *me* say those very same words the night before, he just
came right out with it.

"Harry. I thought... You said..."

"That was last night, a night we stole from reality. But now it's
morning, you're leaving, and I couldn't let you go without telling
you." I pulled him into my arms, showering kisses onto his upturned
face, almost devouring him.

"I love you too, Harry. I wanted to tell you last night..."

"Only I wouldn't let you. I'm sorry. I felt that if we didn't say the
words, I could pretend that today wasn't going to happen."

"But it has."

"Yeah." We held each other in silence for a while. Then, "Tom, do you
really have to go?" Oh God, Harry. If only you knew how much it was
breaking my heart to leave you. Who am I kidding, you knew all right.
I was breaking yours by leaving you behind. And there was nothing I
could do about it.

I couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry Harry, I've got to. Believe me, if I didn't have to go, I
wouldn't. But..."

"It's okay, Tom. It's obvious there's more at stake here than just your
happiness. If you've made up your mind, there's no way I can stop you.
I just wish..." He clung to me almost desperately. I returned his
embrace with a fierce hug of my own.

"That we hadn't wasted so much fucking time trying to convince
ourselves we couldn't want this." He gave me such a beautiful but sad
smile that I nearly broke down on the spot.

"Something like that." He shifted slightly to check the time over my
shoulder. "Shit!" He gave me a wild look, one that spoke volumes about
badly divided loyalties. "I've got to go, or I'm going to be late." He
swung his legs out of the bed, I moved with him.

"Go on. Will I see you later?" He tried to put on a brave face.

"Try and stop me." He quickly pulled on his clothes from the night
before without once taking his eyes off me. "I'll be there. Just..."
He stepped forward and gave me a quick, hard kiss and then fled out
the door. That last kiss burned on my lips with an intensity that near
took my breath away, and all I could do was press my hands to my
face letting the hot tears of futility run through my fingers.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually I stumbled into the
shower. Part of me didn't want to wash what was left of the smell and
taste of Harry off my skin, but I did. I had to. Half heartedly I
finished washing, got dried, got dressed not caring what the hell I
was wearing, and began to pack. More than once I thought <Just what
the fuck are you doing, Tommy-boy?> but it didn't stop me.

I was still packing when Neelix arrived. It seems he had heard I was
leaving.

"Good news travels fast." I said. He wanted to know if it was true,
and why, and all sorts of other things. I can't remember half of what I
said to him, but I gave him all the covering spiel. I wondered if it
sounded as false to him as it did to me. Obviously not. He surprised
me by giving me a hug. I mean, *Neelix*?! I suppose you really do
find friends in unexpected places. That train of thought led me into
thinking of Harry, all breathless and sweaty and sticky aand *mine*. I
shoved the image aside quickly; I sure as hell didn't want to get an
erection while I was hugging Neelix. He left as quickly as he'd
arrived, one of my few true friends.

My packing finished, there was only one thing of any importance I
needed to do before I left Voyager. Say goodbye to Harry. I grabbed a
padd, downloaded that song that we had danced to in Sandrine's, the
one that made me think of our situation, and spent the next ten minutes
frantically searching for just one item. Eventually I found it; an old
fashioned writing case. Good quality paper, real ink pens, that sort
of thing. Just what you'd use to write love letters. Or farewell notes.
I left my quarters, padd and case in hand, and made my way to Harry's.

In the end I couldn't think of anything to write. Any eloquence I may
have possessed had completely deserted me. For ages I stared at the
paper, pen in hand, and all I could see was Harry. The first time I
saw him, on DS9; the moment he said 'I don't need anyone to choose my
friends for me', laughing with me, playing pool, me watching his dark
head bent over the ops console, him learning a new piece of music just
because *I* asked. Then there were the memories of last night. Dancing.
Kissing. Loving.

I began to write.

'And no-one ever told me that love would hurt so much.'

A line from the song, and so very apt. I was hurting. Badly. What else
to say? I decided to keep it simple:

 Remember me,

   Tom
    x

Another message went onto the padd.

"I know we only had one night, and not a year, but it was still worth
every second. I love you Harry, and I always will."

Leaving the sheet of paper and the padd on the desk. I glanced around
the quarters that were as familiar to me as my own one last time. I
wandered over to Harry's music corner and ran my fingers over his
clarinet, thinking about how his skillful lips had played *me* better
than any damn musical instrument. In a fit of sentimentality I picked
up a sheet of his music, it was as much of Harry as I could take with
me. Pocketing the music, I picked up the writing case and left.

A while later I entered the transporter room. They were there, three
of them. Two dear friends, and the keeper of my heart. He looked so
sad, my Harry, that I just wanted to grab his hand and run off with
him. Needless to say, I didn't, we just shared a brief, emotion filled
glance, no more barriers between us, not any more. I only wish I could
have told him the real truth behind my behaviour of the last couple of
months, the real reasons as to why I was leaving. Harry wasn't stupid,
he knew there was something going on, just not what it was. It must
have been so hard on him, watching me, and not knowing why.

I'm sorry Harry.

Kes was the first to say goodbye. She hugged me tight, I think I
probably hugged her just as hard. Such a good friend, Kes, and never
one to judge by appearances. And Neelix? I didn't feel either of us
were up to another hug, so we shook hands. He may look  weird, and his
cooking may be a bit way out for my liking, but he's all heart.

And then I was next to Harry. I offered him my hand, I didn't know if
I could manage not to break down if he hugged me. Harry of course was
having none of it. He pulled me close, saying nothing; probably, like
me, because he couldn't. Besides, we had said it all, both last night
and this morning; with words, and without. I handed him my com badge,
barely touching his fingers, and stepped up to the transporter pad. I
felt his last lingering touch burn like fire; into my body, into my
heart, into my soul. The last thing I saw before the transporter
energised was Harry's eyes. So dark, so full of all the things we'd
never had time to say to each other.

Goodbye my friend, my lover.

If Saint Jude is still looking out for me, we'll be together again.