Greg smiled and quickly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, making a lunge toward the ball, crying triumphantly as his hand grasped the elusive orange sphere. Harry had a burst of his own energy, and rolled on his side, scrabbling to get closer, making a grab for the ball in Greg's hand.
The man fought back. "No way...," he said, laughing, "it's mine."
"Was mine," Harry said, his fingers clutching, trying to pry Greg's fingers off the prize. He worked hard, but the larger man's hands were stronger. It was no wonder why Ayala was the second highest ranking Security Officer - he was one of the physically strongest men on board. And before Harry realized it, he'd been pushed onto his back and Greg was sitting on his thighs, immobilizing him. "What the hell are you doing, Greg?" A nervous laugh escaped and he immediately hated himself for it.
Greg smiled. It was almost feral, showing just a hint of the victor. "I think I'm overpowering you. And, I've got the ball." He opened his hand and showed off his spoils, still smiling.
Harry made another swipe for the ball, but Greg moved his hand out of reach. With his other, he held Harry's torso firmly to the floor. "Gre-eg..."
"What, Har? You want something? Cause you didn't win - so you're not getting this. And here I thought Starfleet boys always played fair..." Greg snickered.
"I did win. And I thought the Maquis had some code of honor or something - you cheated!"
Greg tossed the ball to a far corner of the room and fell forward, taking Harry's arms and pinning them. "Admit it, Harry - you lost. Fair and square. And now you're whining!"
"I am not whining..." Harry looked up into deep set eyes that were sparkling with pure amusement. Wasn't this what he'd wanted? This man looming over him? He felt Greg's hot, muscular, sweaty legs pressing into his own. The burning where large hands gripped his biceps, just hard enough to hold him, but not hurt him. If he were to turn his arms, just like he was doing, he could easily touch the skin of Greg's, under his tee shirt sleeves. The valley where his muscular definition was so pronounced. Harry was enthralled with how smooth the skin felt there, the hardness that was just below the surface...
"Harry," Greg said, his voice sounding odd.
Startled, Harry's eyes flew back to Greg's face. Amusement had become something else entirely. Harry's heart began to pound. Wasn't this what he'd wanted? Why were his hands tingling and sweating and why was his stomach doing flip-flops?
"Harry," Greg repeated, softly this time.
But Harry could think of nothing to say.
"I'm going to.... fuck...," Greg said, and came at him.
Harry's mind got hung up. Greg's going to fuck? What... Then Greg's mouth covered his and all thinking ceased. Hot lips, tasting vaguely of salt, moved persuasively over his. Greg's lips. Greg was kissing him. Greg was holding him down and kissing him. Harry grabbed the arms under his fingers and kissed back, fiercely. Greg moaned and the sound of it, the vibration of it against his mouth caused blood to surge into his groin, his lips to part and his tongue to lick the opening staying just out of his reach. He struggled for some mobility. Greg broke the kisses and pulled back sharply. Their eyes met.
Harry searched for something in the deep brown irises, some clue, some indication. Greg looked startled and a little dazed. He pulled back further and took his hands off Harry's biceps. Harry's still pounding heart started to increase it's tempo. He reached up with both hands but couldn't quite touch Greg's face. Something else moved across the dark eyes staring down into his.
Greg put his hands back down slowly, but on either side of Harry's shoulders. He lowered his head enough to be grasped, and let Harry pull him back, moving slowly, never breaking the eye lock, breathing shallowly, and finally falling on his mouth, kissing him intensely. Harry wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders and neck and gave everything he had to the kisses, and this time, this time he was allowed in. He swept inside and tasted all that Greg was, felt the soft, flexible heat of the man's tongue swirling around his. He felt strong, and powerful from the action. Submissive, and giving as Greg let more of his weight press Harry to the floor. He hardened further and further and thrust into the air, begging him with his body to move off and give him full body contact.
Then Greg moved his legs, sliding them down, and out, and let his groin settle on Harry's hip. He could feel the strong erection pushing against him. Overwhelmed by heat, and want, he let out a muffled groan that had worked it's way up from his gut and rocked his pelvis. Greg increased the intensity of the kisses until it felt as if their mouths were fusing together and he would die a happy man from lack of oxygen.
Greg suddenly stopped moving and pulled back just enough to speak. "What are we doing..."
Harry didn't know what to say. Tell him the truth? That what he was doing was his damnedest to encourage the man to fuck him silly? To show him exactly what he meant to him? To keep him from seeing how scared he felt? How much he felt?
"Harry - we should stop. I should stop," Greg continued.
Harry's heart was the thing that stopped. Freezing cold replaced the heat in his chest. He tried to find more elusive words but the man still covering him found them first.
Greg's gaze heated up. "I... I don't do casual..."
He found some, too. "And that's what this is for you?"
"Isn't that what it is for you?"
"I asked you first," Harry said sharply.
"Yeah, well, I asked you second, big deal," Greg shot back. "Tell me what you want with me."
But Harry couldn't tell him. The ground was way too shaky, his emotions were all over the place and he could no longer see what he'd seen in the deep-set eyes staring down into his heart. He was terrified that he was about to cry and that would be so much more than horrific, to let Gregory see that essential weakness of his character, that one thing that he was constantly berated for in the Academy. "You've got to toughen up there, Kim..." What he wanted? For Greg to love him. And respect him.
He moved his hand until it was poised over the left side of his chest. Meeting Greg's stare squarely, he tapped his badge and said, "Kim to transporter room one. Emergency site to site - one to my quarters." Greg's eyes went very wide.
"Acknowledged."
The tingle of the beam was all he felt until his living area appeared around him. He got up, stumbled toward the bathroom, tearing off his sweaty clothing as he went, ignoring the tears falling down his cheeks. He stood under the shower and let himself cry.
Greg sat for quite a while in the holodeck simulation. Long enough for the next person who'd reserved time to come knocking on the doors. He made his way slowly to deck seven, absently greeting his friends who were leaving quarters for dinner in the mess hall. Once inside his own cabin, he removed his smelly workout clothes, tossed them in the refresher and made himself a tall glass of juice on the rocks.
Replenishing his fluids, he walked into his bedroom and studied himself in the mirror. He was not a vain man, but he was a man who kept himself in shape. He knew his strengths and he knew his weaknesses. Physical stamina and power were obvious. He could bench press his body weight with ease, and considering the size of some Delta Quadrant races, he knew his ship benefited from this.
The down side to it, however, was much more personal. He easily and unthinkingly intimidated potential lovers. And men who were smaller than he were his weakness. His vice. His Achilles heel. At this point in his life, one man in particular was his greatest weakness. The man was Starfleet through and through. Captain Janeway's most ardent supporter. Straight laced and serious was how he'd pegged him from the very first. He'd been wrong in his assessment. Straight laced, no. Serious, no, at least not all of the time.
He left the mirror and got into the shower, letting the hot water pummel his tired body. He thought about all of the ways he'd been wrong about Harry. He definitely hadn't pegged him for a person who got into casual affairs on board. He tried to accept this fact, but all it did was make his chest hurt. Turning to the wall, he let his frustrations out with a fist to the shower stall. Watching the bruises appear on his knuckles, he tried to decide whether to leave them or make a trip to sick bay before dinner.
Harry numbly put on some off duty clothes and considered his options. Dinner in his quarters, using rapidly dwindling replicator rations. Dinner in the mess - possibility of seeing Greg, possibilities of various friends coming up to him wanting to chat. He honestly couldn't afford the rations so without doing much more than running a comb through his wet hair and slipping on some shoes, he left for deck two. Intent on doing no talking and no visiting.
Taking a quick survey of the room as he got his tray, he noticed with relief that none of his friends were there. And an empty table in the corner was just what he needed. He ignored Neelix's attempts at small talk with a nod and a thank you and sat so he could look out the viewports. For once, the food on his plate was tasteless. A very good thing. He shoveled it into his mouth and watched the stars.
"Lieutenant, I must insist you tell me how you injured your knuckles," the Doctor said imperiously.
"And what if I refuse? You going to call Security? Would you please just fix the hand, Doctor?" Greg was about to get up and leave, and see if someone had a regenerator in their quarters. Maybe Tom had one. Maybe Samantha.
The Doctor huffed. "I will not call Security, but either way I will be making a report to Commander Chakotay. Starfleet regulation 273.62 states..."
Greg interrupted him quickly. "Thank you - I don't need to hear a run down of the regs involving security matters." Tuvok drilled them all on each and every one in their monthly staff meetings. He hated the exercise. He sighed. "Fine. Why don't you call the commander down here and I'll explain it to him. Privately."
"I afford all of my patients privacy, Mr. Ayala. Doctor - patient privilege stands, unless it involves an altercation between crew members, you know that."
Greg wondered if you could strangle a hologram, and what the effect would be, sore hand and all. "Doctor. Just call him? Please? I'm hungry."
"Very well. No need to get insolent," the EMH replied, walking to his office.
Within ten minutes, Chakotay was striding into sick bay with a look of concern on his face. He perched on the biobed next to Greg. "Okay, what happened?" he asked.
"I didn't hit anyone. That's all that's relevant," Greg stated.
Chakotay folded his arms and studied him. "So you didn't hit a person - what did you hit?"
"I don't think that's relevant," Greg repeated.
"Well, it may not be officially relevant, but as your friend, I'd like to know that you're okay. And hitting something inanimate implies that you were pretty upset. I know you, Greg, you don't go around punching without extreme provocation," Chakotay said quietly. "I thought you were going to play hoverball with Harry this afternoon - did something happen there? Why didn't you just tell the Doctor that?"
"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. Now, I'd just like to get my hand fixed and get some dinner..."
"So something did happen on the holodeck. With Harry. But you didn't hit him, you punched something else. Your wall, most likely. You were angry..."
"Chakotay," Greg hissed, "please drop it. I'm fine. Nothing happened that made me angry! Frustrated, yes. Not angry. I, I ... I just learned that I was very, very wrong about something, that's all. Now, please drop it."
But his friend continued to assess him, in that quiet, serious, intense way of his. "You made a move on him, didn't you?"
Greg jumped off the biodbed. "That's it. I'm going to find a regenerator and fix this fucking thing myself. I don't need any help. Don't need anything or anybody..."
Chakotay grabbed his arm. "Hold it, I haven't ended this conversation."
He laughed. "Oh, suddenly you're going to pull rank on me? I thought you were just talking to me as a friend," he said harshly. "You going to make out a report? Well, send this one to the captain, I'm sure she'll get a kick out of it. Security Officer Lieutenant Ayala and Chief Operations Officer Ensign Kim had a passionate encounter this afternoon, during which time said Security Officer learned that said Operations Officer was only out for a quick fuck. Nothing more. Much to the surprise of the Security Officer. In a fit of upset, as the newly married First Officer calls it, a certain shower stall on deck seven was dented. Maybe you could submit copies of the report to the senior staff. Maybe Neelix could interview me on the next show!" He wrenched his arm out of Chakotay's grasp.
"Harry was out for a quickie? That I just can't imagine..."
"Yeah, well, just because you're all shacked up now with your husband, doesn't mean the rest of the world believes in love."
"Harry? Are you sure?"
"No question. I asked him point blank. He answered by not answering. Just left. Beamed himself out from under me. Couldn't have been clearer."
Chakotay tugged his ear and stared at the carpeting. He sighed, then met Greg's eyes again. "Well, I'm sorry, Greg. I think you should consider talking to Harry again, or if you don't want to do that, come over and talk to Tom. But - in the meantime, let's get the Doctor over here and you up to the mess hall." He waved toward the office.
"I'm okay, you don't need to baby-sit me," Greg said.
"I'm not. Just being with my friend," Chakotay replied quietly. "Get used to it."
Greg relaxed once more against the biobed. "Thanks, Chakotay." Two dimples flashed at him in response. He closed his eyes and silently held out his injured hand as the Doctor approached.
Harry finished up what goop was still on his plate absent-mindedly. He was only grateful that it still had no taste per se. His regret was that he'd neglected to bring something to do while eating. Staring at the stars and trying to ignore the ruckus around him was mentally and emotionally exhausting.
Too late, he realized that he should have gotten up and left. B'Elanna sat down uninvited.
"Hey, Harry, how's it going? How was the match?" she said, picking up her fork and stirring the goop before scooping some up.
Match? He watched her take the bite and shudder, then down a long drink of apple juice. "I'm fine. How're you?" His voice sounded really strange to him.
She put her fork down. "You okay? Look at me..." He obliged. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"Nothing's wrong, and nothing happened," he answered. His eyes were drawn to the doorway and his heart stopped in a familiarly painful way. Greg walked in with the commander at his side. Harry grabbed his tray and stood. "Well, have a nice evening, B'Elanna. See you tomorrow." Saying the things one was supposed to say, he walked away, avoiding anyone else, dropping his tray off and leaving. Ignoring the tall man with the dark eyes completely.
He wandered the corridors for a while before heading back down to deck four and his home. Once inside he wandered some more. The ache in his chest was so all-encompassing that he could not, for the life of him, figure out what to do to entertain himself until bed. All he knew was the pain. He finally gave in to it, stripped and crawled under the covers. He lowered the lights completely - deliberately leaving the night lights off - red alert be damned. If the klaxons blared he'd just do the best he could. He wanted to see nothing but the stars.
"Hey, you two, you just missed something very, very weird," B'Elanna said as Greg sat down at her table, Chakotay still by his side.
"Well, I noticed that Harry was here," Chakotay said casually, glancing over to him. "Was that weird?"
Greg almost kicked him under the table. Instead, he played with his food.
"Yup," she answered. "Quite frankly, he looked like shit, and I really do not believe I was talking to a live person. I almost called for an intruder alert..."
"He looked bad - how?" Chakotay asked before taking a drink.
But B'Elanna got quiet. "I don't know if I should be telling you this, I mean, he didn't tell me anything, so it's not like I have to hold confidences or anything..."
"I would appreciate being told," Chakotay said, "perhaps I can do something to help him. Consider it an official request," he finished with a smile.
Greg snorted. Two sets of brown eyes darted to him. He shrugged. "Just seems that our former captain is walking a slightly wavy line tonight between official and friendly, that's all. Don't let me interrupt you."
"Yes, B'Elanna, don't let him interrupt us," the older man said pointedly. "Now - what's wrong with Harry?"
"He, he looked like he'd been crying. A lot..."
Greg didn't hear anything more. His stomach turned over and his heart started to beat erratically. Crying?
"Greg?"
He focused. Chakotay was staring at him. "What?" he retorted.
"B'Elanna asked you if anything happened during your hoverball match this afternoon. Harry was acting quite subdued. She's concerned for her friend..."
He looked at B'Elanna. "No, nothing much happened. He lost the match, then left."
She shook her head vehemently. "Something must have happened after that then. His eyes were red, and puffy, and he was just out of it. I'm going to go try and talk to him, Chakotay. If I can't get any where, tell Tom I'll be tracking him down for reinforcements." She stood.
"I'll let him know - he's going to be shooting some pool in about an hour," he answered. "Sandrine's is open tonight."
B'Elanna left. Greg stared at the tabletop, seeing black eyes searching his, six inches away, full lips glistening from his kisses. Searching eyes that disappeared in a shimmer of blue.
Harry woke up to the muffled sound of a string of Klingon curses. Something had woken him up the split second before that however. "Computer, lights 25%," he croaked. B'Elanna was getting up off the floor, rubbing her knee. "What are you doing?"
"Thanks for the lights, Harry," she said sarcastically. "Why the hell didn't you put your workout clothes, and shoes, away? A person could get killed in here!" She sat on the edge of the bed, still rubbing her knee and hissing.
"Have a seat, 'Lanna," he answered.
"Got one, thanks," she said, grinning. "So, did I wake you?"
He rolled over, propped himself on one elbow, and pulled the covers up to his chin. Being naked in bed with B'Elanna perched on the edge of it did not exactly inspire self-confidence. He had no idea what in the world she was doing, but he wasn't in the mood for anyone else breaching his personal barriers. "I don't suppose it would do me any good to ask you not to break into my quarters again?"
"Nope, not in an emergency like this. What are friends for, Starfleet?"
His heart sank. She only called him that when she wanted a heart-to-heart, the other thing he was not in the mood for. He decided to try being unresponsive. Maybe then she'd just get tired of it and leave. Patience was not her strong suit.
"So," she continued, apparently undaunted, "what happened to you from the time you got off shift, happy and upbeat, until dinner, when it was obvious you'd spent quite a time being... upset."
"I don't want to talk about it," he said quietly. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.
"But I'm worried about you, Harry," she replied just as quietly, "something happened. And now you look as though you just lost your best friend. And I know that you and Tom are fine, even if he is spending almost all of his free time in Chakotay's bed, doing what I don't want to know..."
He interrupted her. "Well, if you don't want to know then you can't help me." At that moment, he wished for a reset button for his mouth. Fuck, he was in for it now, and too tired out to try and come up with an explanation for his comment. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, willing her to be gone.
"Harry - are you upset that Tom got married?"
He rolled back, too surprised to do anything but stare at her. Did he act jealous or something? That was ridiculous!
"Harry?"
"Of course not," he sputtered, "I'm not jealous of Tom and the commander! I was his best man! Jesus, B'Elanna..."
"Kah'less, calm down! Okay, okay, I guess that doesn't make sense." She peered at him in the semi-darkness.
"Look, don't worry about me, I'll be fine tomorrow, you can go now," he said quickly, before they got back to what he'd said.
"Who's the guy?" she asked softly. Then her eyebrows reached higher and higher. "Shit," she whispered. "I don't blame you on that choice..."
"You can go anytime now, B'Elanna," he said.
"So what happened today? Did hoverball turn into something else? Why were you crying? Talk to me, Harry."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Did he turn you down or something?! He wouldn't be that stupid!"
"B'Elanna..."
"Harry, look - men is a topic that, frankly, we could have in common - and I know Greg - and let me tell you one other thing - he was in a foul mood tonight. Foul. He and Chakotay had gotten into something before they walked in. So whatever happened between you two, he had some trouble with it, too. So tell me, dammit!" She folded her arms and turned so she was facing him, looking permanently settled in for the night.
He growled in frustration. A half-Klingon friend was a most tenacious of beasts. "Fuck," he muttered. Sitting up, he drew his knees to his chest and settled against his pillow, staring at her. "You got some sort of Klingon oath you can swear to me? That nothing will be repeated? To ANYone?"
She chewed her lip. "On the sacred head of Kah'less, I swear nothing will be repeated that you tell me from this point forward."
He took a deep breath. "He kissed me."
Her eyes narrowed. "And?"
"And what?"
"This is the big tragedy that's wracked the two of you? He kissed you? What - you didn't kiss him back or something?"
He could feel his cheeks getting hot. "No, I kissed him back. We... we kissed."
"And? What happened? Was the kiss good? Awful? Why were you crying?"
"All right, all right. Shit, you're demanding. We... The kissing was very good, it seemed like he was enjoying himself, I know I was. Then he just stopped. Wanted to know what we were doing. Said he had to stop because this was just a casual fuck and he didn't do casual." Harry could feel his throat betraying him and coughed past it.
"Greg said that what was happening right then was a casual fuck?"
"He wouldn't answer that. I asked him if that's what he was doing. He refused to answer."
She stared at him again for a minute. "That makes no sense, Harry. What happened then," she asked with a tone of pure suspicion.
"I got upset and left," he said quickly.
Shaking her head, she muttered, "Men." She got up and began to pace. "So let me see if I've got this right. You two kissed, and were getting quite into it, when Greg stopped and wanted to know what was going on, since obviously this came out of the blue for both of you - and rather than answer him, you asked him the same thing, then when he refused to answer, you're feelings got hurt so you left. Have I got that right? I thought so. So then you came home and fell apart because you've told yourself that Greg thinks whatever's happening is just casual, which is not how you feel about it. Greg, on the other hand, had some pretty serious reaction to you leaving because he was surly and sarcastic and apparently had Chakotay talking to him about all of it in ways that he didn't like - so odds are Chakotay hit some nails on their little heads. So I say again -- MEN!"
He didn't know how to respond to her tirade. He did pick up one point, however. "Greg was upset?"
"Good grief. Get out of bed. Come on," she said, tugging on his covers.
He stopped her just in time. "Whoa, wait a minute, I don't feel like exposing myself to you of all people..."
"You're getting out of that bed, or I'm going to get Greg and bring him here, and put him in it with you! I'll wait for you in the living area. Do it! NOW." She turned and left the bedroom.
Harry had a difficult time picturing B'Elanna managing to drag Greg into his bed, but he didn't have too much trouble picturing the man actually there. He felt a small crack in his armor as the craving he'd been living with for a very long time reasserted itself. Maybe he really should let B'Elanna do something. But then again, maybe Greg wasn't really all that upset. Surly and sarcastic. Didn't sound earth-shattering to him. Maybe she'd been...
"Get out of BED!" She yelled from the living area.
He sighed and got out of bed.
Greg slouched in his chair, sipping his synthale, trying to ignore his two friends at the pool table. They never did anything overt, at least not in public, but he'd been around Chakotay and Tom in private enough to know the signs. Serious, hot, flirting was taking place while Tom waited for his pool match to start. Chakotay followed his lover around the table, speaking quietly in his ear, making both of them grin. Touching him lightly, casually, yet if one looked past the casualness of it, you could see Tom's eyes change and their glances progress to longing looks. Nothing overt. Yet everything to make Greg's stomach churn.
They had what he wanted. And he was feeling petty and pissy enough that night to resent them for it. He was also harboring a huge resentment toward Tom, a.k.a. Best Friend of Harry Kim. The man had stated unequivocally that his friend, Harry, never ever treated sex casually. As though he knew that for a fact. Greg pressed him, demanded to know about the Delaney sisters and that little fiasco. The alien they'd picked up the year before. The alien he'd gotten involved with the year before that. None of these had any potential for long term commitment, not to mention the fact that they were women. Tom brushed them off.
Well, what the fuck did Tom know? Not for the first time Greg had to face the possibility that Tom and Harry had been intimate at some point in the past. That's when the stomach churning had started.
"Hey Har, hey 'Lanna!" Tom's voice interrupted his thoughts. His stomach sank to his knees but he tried to get up using them anyway. Ten meters to the door and he could escape. He stood. He turned. And looked directly into the eyes of Harry Kim, making his heart lurch sickeningly. Harry walked right up to him and Greg had the fleeting thought that perhaps he should grab a chair before he simply fell over. He hated feeling this powerless.
"Hi Greg," Harry said.
"Hi."
"I was wondering if you and I could go somewhere and talk? Privately?"
His eyes wandered off Harry's face, down his torso, and that's when he saw the man's hands were wringing and twisting the bottom edge of his tunic. They continued to wander, seeing B'Elanna standing behind, ostensibly talking with Tom and Chakotay, but meeting his eyes and giving him every indication that she expected him to talk to Harry and talk to him right then. Well, damn them all. He looked at Harry again, ignoring the hopeful expression he was seeing, the openness, the willingness. "I don't think so, Harry, I just don't think so," he stated and began a steady course for the door, not looking back.
He almost made it. A small but powerful hand grabbed his arm and spun him.
"Who the fuck do you think you are treating him like that," hissed B'Elanna.
His eyes flicked past her. Harry was sitting at his table, thumbs holding his temples, staring at the table top. Tom and Chakotay were just sitting down with him. "I don't like being used," he hissed back.
"Who's using whom here? You're an idiot!"
He pulled away from her and continued out the doorway.
"You know Greg," she said from right behind him, "I don't have a clue what you're problem is - but just be careful about your assumptions. And no matter how far back we go - if you make him cry again I'll kill you..."
He walked down one of the cobblestone Marseilles streets, not bothering to answer her, only wanting to be somewhere else. Somewhere that would help him fantasize, if for only a few minutes, that he was not on this ship, that he was not miserable, that he was not longing to have the person he loved love him in return.
~ *~ *~ *~ *~
Harry heard voices talking to him but he had absolutely no idea what anyone was saying. He recognized Tom's voice, and the commander's, and finally B'Elanna's and it sounded to him as though they were talking amongst themselves. Trying to hold on to his last shred of dignity and not break down in the middle of Sandrine's, he stared at the dinged and worn wooden table that his elbows were resting on. He studied all the minute details, translating them into holoprogramming, devising ways to adjust this and alter that. Anything to not think about how much better he'd be if he hadn't followed B'Elanna on this fool's errand. Then someone touched his arm so he tried to focus.
It was the commander. "Yes, sir?" he said.
The older man cleared his throat. "Look Harry. I don't usually do this, and I want that very clearly understood at this table. What is said to me is said in the strictest confidence. But. Sometimes I have to bend rules a bit. And nothing Gregory said was said to the ship's counselor. His friend will have to suffer any consequences here. Do you understand?"
He didn't actually. "Yes, sir."
"Please, call me Chakotay - we're off duty. You were the best man at my wedding," the commander said with a smile. "Call me by my name or I won't tell you what's going on in Greg's stu... head." Harry nodded. "Good. I think you should go after him. B'Elanna says he's wandering some of Tom's streets out there, either way we can get the computer to find him..."
Harry interrupted him. "No."
Tom squeezed his shoulder. "Harry, listen to Chak. He had a long talk with Greg today. Just listen."
He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together tightly. He considered just getting up and leaving, as Greg had done, but taking one look at these three people he relented. "Okay," he said softly, almost afraid to admit it out loud. He was going to give the man another chance.
The commander leaned forward and began to talk.
~ *~ *~ *~ *~
Walking down the cobblestones, Harry again came to the quick conclusion that his best friend was one hell of a holoprogrammer. The paving shone with dampness in the waterfront city, the night was slightly misty and the far off sounds of fog horns and the clang of harbor bells gave Tom's Marseilles an eerie atmosphere. None of it touched the pit of excitement that was dancing around in Harry's stomach. The place of expectations. Of beginnings. Of enthusiasm, and desire.
He approached the last corner and stopped to take a very deep breath. "You're not getting away from me this time, Gregory," he muttered to himself. He turned onto the side street. A large figure was leaning on the railing, overlooking the water, kicking absently against the bottom rung. Harry even heard a few words coming from the man. He smiled and walked right toward him. The sound of his footsteps startled Greg, who stood and turned quickly.
"Greg," he said forcefully, "you need to listen to me - right here and right now." He continued with his approach until they were a half a meter apart.
Greg put his hands in his pockets and gazed at him. "Fine. Say what you came to say."
"You seem to have this idea in your head that I only wanted some sort of quick fuck, casual fling with you. What I have to say is that you're full of shit in this regard. That description is the very last thing I want with you..."
Greg interrupted him. "I'm full of shit?" he said a little harshly.
Harry poked him in the chest. "Yes. Full of shit. Full. I do not want a casual affair with you. I don't want to bed hop with you. I don't want a quick fuck..."
Greg grabbed the hand poking him but didn't let it go. He put their palms together and laced their fingers. Harry's heart stopped, but this time it was a good cessation. "You don't want those things?" Harry shook his head. "What do you want, Harry? I'm listening..."
He tried to breathe but it was becoming more and more difficult. The man was looking so incredibly handsome right then - his hair was a bit mussed, his eyes were a bit sad, and his mouth was looking very kissable. Their palms were warm, and distracting.
"What do you want, Harry," Greg repeated.
"I want everything with you. Just... everything." He thought it sounded so lame, all the well thought out words had left him again.
Greg took a step forward and put a hand on Harry's back, pulling them together, then dipped his head and kissed him. Not a light and soft kiss - an intense yet gentle kiss, open mouthed, quickly deepening as they wrapped their arms around each other and got lost in the sensations. No longer hearing the sounds of the waterfront or feeling the mist tickle their faces. They only heard their own breathing and felt their own tongues, and lips, exploring, learning, reaching... searching for each other.
Greg rolled Harry onto his back with ease and held himself above the man, gazing at the slightly flushed cheeks, the crop of hair that was no longer slicked back, the black eyes that bore directly into his and that smile. An unexpected bonus, Greg learned. His new lover smiled a lot when they made love. It was wonderful. He was wonderful. And very, very, very hot.
Harry was a giver in bed. He gave every part of himself, held nothing back, just reveled in each thing they did. He was an entirely different person, yet still, the same, essential Harry. And Greg had decided in the past two minutes, that even though they'd not yet fucked, he didn't think he could ever get enough of him. Of them. It was already better than he'd imagined.
Harry reached up and pulled him back down and they resumed the hot, penetrating kisses. Harry spread his knees apart, settled Greg in between them and they both smiled into the kisses. Their lust increased as they moved against each other, stroking each other with heated hands, and hard erections. Their movements got faster, but Greg pulled back with difficulty, knowing it was time, or they'd both come before they wanted to.
"You sure," he whispered to the man holding him tightly.
Harry smiled. "Lube is in the top drawer over there." He thumbed to Greg's right.
He stopped moving. "Why do you have lube?"
The other man reached in between them and began to rub his palms slowly over Greg's nipples, and the jolt of arousal made his breath catch. "I made it for you," Harry said softly, lifting his head and moving one hand behind Greg's head. A hot, sensuous mouth nibbled on his neck and his aching erection weeped. "Just for you." Harry fell back onto the pillow and slid a finger onto Greg's tongue. He sucked on it greedily. "It's been waiting." He moaned. He'd find out how long later.
Moving as quickly as his fully aroused body would let him, he lunged for Harry's drawer and got the lube, then came back to be in between his knees. "Open it," he said. Harry smiled again and did as ordered, getting some onto Greg's fingers, and he could see Harry's breathing was starting to get shallow and his eyes were slitting even further in anticipation. He poised his fingers at Harry's opening and leaned over and kissed him, wanting to taste the change, rewarded with a soft groan and a hot exhaling breath entering his mouth as he slipped a finger inside and moved it around. It was so heady, this feeling of arousing someone else.
He kept up the oral stimulation as he got more fingers inserted, taking a now writhing man to another level as he kissed his neck and nipped his ear and tried to suck down his tongue. Again, he pulled back with difficulty. It was really time now. He slicked up his erection, gritting his teeth to keep himself calmed down. And without saying anything, but locking eyes with the man he loved, he pushed himself in, until Harry's eyes closed and his head arched back. Until he was in to the hilt. Until Harry groaned and started to move, pulling on his ass hard, trying to get him even more deeply sheathed. He groaned, too, and Harry's eyes flew opened and locked once more on his.
He lowered himself enough to take his mouth, thrusting his tongue in the same rhythm he was now thrusting his hips. They were both moving, connected, fused together, nearing a climax together, lost in time together. What was left of his mind was focused on one thing. This man with him. He was with him. They were. And would be.
An orgasm began to envelope them. He felt Harry become still just as he tasted his climax hitting, then warm, ropey streams wet his belly and Harry contracted around him, pulling him hard... and he came, with the stars filling his head and bliss overtaking his body as he spilled himself deeply inside his lover, again and again and again...
~ *~ *~ *~ *~
Harry settled even further into the embrace, feeling just a few more millimeters of skin find some contact with other skin. He was lying almost fully on top of Greg with his head buried in the man's neck, and strong, warm arms holding him; hands moving slowly over him, causing little flutters of excitement to hit his stomach. There was a deep, tingling, ache between his cheeks that he was totally enthralled with. He'd never felt so loved. Running his hand through Greg's wavy hair he kissed the skin against his lips.
"Know what else I want?" he said.
Greg chuckled. "What?"
"Breakfast. With you."
"That can be arranged. You on alpha tomorrow? Got any rations?"
"Yes, I'm on alpha for two more weeks. But, um, no, not enough rations for both of us."
Greg squeezed him gently. "Enough for you? We can transfer some from my account. What would you have if you could have anything at all for breakfast?"
That was an easy question for Harry. "My mother's noodle soup."
"For breakfast?"
"Yeah, it's traditional. And delicious. I haven't quite gotten the replicator to do it justice though." Harry traced the muscles of Greg's arm with his fingers.
"Well, let's just move some rations over and see what we can come up with in the morning, okay?"
Harry nodded and resumed his kissing.
"I have something I want," Greg said quietly.
He propped himself on one elbow so he could make eye contact. "Okay."
"A question answered. Earlier - on the holodeck - were you feeling intimidated by me - being stronger than you, um, holding you down..."
Harry was surprised. He could see the slight insecurity deep in Greg's eyes, and he thought this was another easy question to answer. "No. Not at all. I liked it - I... I like your body, your strength..."
"You mean that?"
"Of course."
Greg's smile beamed at him and he couldn't help it, he laughed. Greg rolled him, laughed with him, and kissed him. Deeply, slowly, sweeping his tongue against Harry's as barely sated desire once more blossomed full force in them both. Greg stretched Harry's arms over his head and held them there with one hand, dragging his other hand under Harry's back to cup his ass and pull them tightly together. Harry devoured the mouth locked on his and wrapped his legs around him, bucking and arching with need. They headed toward bliss again.
Greg stood at Tactical and tried to concentrate on his work. He was glad and then again not to have been stationed on the bridge. With Harry just an easy glance to his left, and Chakotay coming around every fifteen minutes to try and pry more details out of him, all he could think about was the man he'd spent the night with. He was supposed to be making out some sort of survey report for Tuvok on the system they'd be encountering in a few days. The entire ship was dependent upon it. Lunch break didn't come soon enough.
He raced into the lift right after Harry and whispered to him to stay when everyone else got off on deck two. The lift emptied and the doors closed. Greg called for a halt.
"You know how you told me that you didn't want just a quick fuck," he said to Harry. The man grinned and nodded. "Well, there are times when a quickie is quite satisfying."
"Oh, really," Harry teased.
He turned and pressed him to the wall, then bent his head and kissed the man he loved until Harry's breathing was heavy, and his eyes half closed. "Yes," he said, panting, "really."
"Computer resume lift," Harry called out. "Deck four."
He moved off and stood by his side, smiling.
B'Elanna stood outside the door to Harry's quarters and wrestled with her conscience. But not for very long. Harry hadn't shown up for lunch, and though both Tom and Chakotay assured her that the man was more than fine, she wanted to be certain. She figured he wasn't answering her hails because he was with Greg, but still, what if he wasn't. Of course, Greg wasn't answering his, either, but that could be for any number of reasons. She put in the override code and walked into the semi-darkened quarters.
"Oh great," she muttered, "here we go again."
Then she noticed the two gold and black jackets strewn across the living area carpeting, two gray turtlenecks a bit further away, then black pants, and boots, all in a straight line toward the bedroom. It appeared, from her vantage point, that underwear was somewhere inside the open doorway. She contemplated her position and focused her hearing.
Yes, there was very definitely the sound of a bed moving, and very fast, heavy breathing, some moaning and some indistinguishable words. So here was her chance to see just exactly what her four closest male friends did in bed together. For herself. With her own eyes. She might even be able to accumulate some replicator rations with the information. News of Harry and Greg hadn't yet spread to the female population on board, and when it did, sparks were gonna fly. Many women had their eye on both of them, and coming on the heels of the wedding of the First Officer and Chief Helmsman, B'Elanna could be in a prime position to sell information. If she were so inclined.
The noises floating out from the bedroom increased in volume.
"Nope," she said to no one in
particular. She turned on a dime and left. She still didn't want to know.
Living with the mystery was much, much better.
End.