Wildfire
by Trekker

"Dinner tonight? Holodeck Two, 1900 hours. Dress: Black-Tie Formal."

Harry blinked at the odd note Tom had left on his desk computer, and then grinned. So, he got to be the guinea pig for another one of Tom's strange new programs. This could be interesting. He sent an affirmative reply to Tom, and then did a quick search of the database to find out what exactly "Black-Tie Formal" meant.

At 1900 hours he stepped onto the holodeck and found himself in a quiet, arched corridor lined with windows that looked out over the dark blue expanse of an Arctic-like midnight snowscape. Tom was waiting, and greeted him with an especially bright and charming grin, before waving his arm in an extravagant "after you" flourish. Together, they walked down the corridor. The door at the end swished open, and Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wow," he said.

Tom raised his eyebrow.

"Nice, huh?"

Nice did not begin to describe the beautiful room that stood before them. It was a large restaurant, full of people. Its sides and top appeared to be open to the air, but that was impossible, because the temperature inside was far to warm to match the icy landscape outside.

The center of the room was a large, crowded dance floor, and around the edges were hundreds of small tables, each large enough to seat no more than two people. The room was surprisingly quiet, given its size, and there was something else about it that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on.

Just then, a man walked up to them, his shoes clicking across the marble floor.

"Mr. Paris?" he said, in a soft voice that contained just a hint of haughtiness. "Right this way, sirs."

They followed the man back to a table tucked alongside one of the walls, in a relatively out-of-the-way little alcove. The man handed them each a leather-bound menu and then vanished unobtrusively into the crowd.

Harry stared out over the expanse of snow, shimmering in the starlight. A three-foot-high wall appeared to be all that separated them from the scene, and he could even feel a soft breeze flowing through the open space.

"It's a real place," Tom said, noticing his interest. "Every heard of the Muriyan Cafe? This is it."

"How-"

"Forcefields," Tom answered, reaching out a finger and holding it near enough to the field to cause a spark. "They let the breeze in, but they keep the air warm."

Harry nodded, satisfied, and began to inspect the menu. As he looked over the long list of strange-sounding dishes, the strange feeling that he was missing something persisted.

"Try the Terran prime rib. It's a house specialty," Tom said. His menu was already folded on the table in front of him, set beside the flickering candle glowing in the center of the table.

Harry continued to ponder the menu, but by the time he reached the tenth word his translator failed to translate, he gave up and decided to go along with Tom's suggestion. He snapped the menu shut and let it drop on the table in front of him, looking up at Tom, to find Tom looking back at him in a very strange way.

"Something wrong?"

"Nope."

Tom glanced down at his hands, which were resting side-by-side on the edge of the table, then back up at Harry.

"You look good. Nice tux."

Harry considered this comment for a second, as Tom shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and then looked out the window. That's the third time tonight he's run his hand through his hair like that, Harry thought, what's going on?

"You don't look so bad yourself," Harry replied, before suddenly realizing it was true. The crisp lines of the pressed suit made Tom appear far more dignified than the form-fitting Starfleet uniform. He looked... dashing. And something about the way the light from the stars and the candles mingled made Tom's eyes seem to match the midnight blue of the darkness outside.

Harry quickly occupied himself with his napkin when Tom's attention shifted back away from the window.

"So, how was your day, Tom?"

"Not bad."

Harry caught a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of Tom's lips.

"Getting better."

Strange answer, Harry thought, and, feeling flustered, somehow, he changed the subject.

"So, what's this program for anyway? Trying to impress a girl?"

To Harry's great surprise, the unflappable Tom Paris blushed to the tips of his ears, and seemed supremely relieved when a waiter arrived at their table, bearing a wine list and ready to take their order.

The flurry of activity involved in ordering their meal distracted them for a moment, but once the waiter left, an uneasy silence fell over the table. Harry fiddled with his napkin again, and Tom stared into the tiny candle flame.

They both tried to speak at once. Tom smiled, and said, softly, "you first."

Harry frowned.

"Are you sure you're all right, Tom? You aren't yourself tonight."

For the fourth time, Tom's hand ran though his shining blond hair. The silence between them stretched on for a moment, then Tom sniffed, and grinned, his eyes not leaving the candle flame.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been this... nervous since I was a teenager on my first date."

"Why would you be nervous?" Harry asked, beginning to feel a soft flutter in his own stomach.

"Because I'm about to do something that has the potential to be monumentally stupid... and could possibly destroy the very fiber of my life."

"Really?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows, "Sounds dire. What would that be?"

Tom's eyes finally left the candle, but when they rose to meet Harry's, the flame hadn't left them.

"I'm about to tell my best friend I'm in love with him."

Harry carefully drew in a breath and let it out again. He was lucky. Some part of his mind had been prepared for this statement, and within moments, his brain had back-up systems online and he managed a reply, albeit not an entirely intelligent one.

"Uh, you... you mean me?"

A slow grin spread across Tom's face.

"You're the only best friend I've got."

The grin vanished.

"At least I hope you're still my friend," he said, his brow knitting together slightly.

Harry's mind was still reeling, but he noticed that statement required a rather swift reply.

"Of course."

He let that hang in the air for the moment, putting the situation on hold while he battled to force his scrambling, panicked emotions into some kind of order.

"Of course," he repeated, buying the last few seconds he needed before continuing, "It's just... I... I've never really... thought about us... like that..."

Tom's face fell.

"It's all right. I just thought you should know. It kind of felt-"

"Wait."

Harry laid his hands together, palm to palm, almost as if praying, and pressed his fingertips to his lips. He took a deep breath, then dropped his hands to the table.

"I just said I never thought about it. I didn't say I wasn't thinking about it now. Give me a second, ok?"

Tom's eyes lit up, and Harry felt some place inside of him light up as well. He loved to see Tom happy. Whenever Tom smiled - when he really smiled, that is - he could brighten Harry's whole day. Hell, sometimes it even brightened his whole week. And watching him piloting a shuttle, one of the few things that made Tom truly happy, never failed to warm Harry's heart.

Come to think of it, he was rather fond of the guy.

Harry sat back in his chair, giving Tom a long and appraising look. A spark of amusement flashed in Tom's eyes, but then it faded to something else. Something that burned hotter and slower. Something that seemed to be contagious, because Harry's clothes suddenly felt a bit too warm, making him grateful for the cool breeze that gusted through the forcefield. Tom stared at him, shamelessly, his gaze caressing Harry's face, seeming to memorize every small detail, until finally those dark blue eyes reached Harry's and neither one of them could, or would, break away. No one had ever, ever looked at him like that.

*Someone should say something,* Harry thought, but neither of them did.

Tom's hand moved over the table and found Harry's. His long fingers slid, soft as silk, over the back of Harry's hand, until his rested on top of it. Tom's thumb drifted, ever so slightly, over sensitive, tingling skin.

They'd touched each other in many ways over the years. Tom had often thrown a companionable arm around Harry's shoulder. They had stood back-to-back on the holodeck, guarding one another from the cohorts of Dr. Evil. They'd even held each other while they cried. But nothing like this. Nothing so soft, so intimate.

It was such a simple thing. Just the touch of a hand. It shouldn't be doing what it was doing to Harry.

But it was.

The gentle fingers tightened around his hand, and pulled it off the table. Before Harry realized what was happening, Tom's lips touched the tender flesh on the underside of his wrist. Harry gasped, in spite of himself, as his whole body tightened at the touch. A brief flick of a warm, wet tongue made lightening crackled through his nerves, and a rush of hormones roll though his veins.

Tom looked up again, that slow fire still burning in his eyes, and whispered, "Dance with me."

It was an odd mix of an order and a request, but that didn't matter to Harry. Right then, he probably would have done anything Tom said, no matter how he said it. They both stood, and Tom's grip loosened long enough for them to shift positions and hold hands, palm to palm, fingers laced together.

As they made their way onto the dance floor, Tom muttered an order to the holodeck, and everyone around them vanished. The hum of conversation was replaced by music: a quiet, simple winds piece. Harry was beginning to doubt the reality of it all as Tom turned to face him and caught his gaze again, smiling a smile so soft and tender Harry never would have guessed the man capable of producing such a thing. But then Tom slid his arms around him, pulling him closer, and his body was too solid, warm, and real to doubt. Harry rested his head against an inviting shoulder, as Tom's lips dipped down to brush over his hair.

Harry closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The scent of the man in his arms went straight to his head, making him slightly dizzy, and he pressed closer to him. They swayed to the tempo of the music. Harry could feel Tom's body move beneath the layers of clothes between them and felt another rush of hormones and heat. He tried to remind himself that this was Tom, his friend, another *guy* for crying out loud, but all it did was feed the fire that was growing deep inside him.

Suddenly, all of his failed relationships from the past few years made a huge amount of sense.

He needed to see Tom, so he pulled away, putting a few centimeters of space between them, hating the wave of cold air that filled the gap. Just as he tilted his head back to look up at Tom, Tom looked down at him, and their lips brushed together. Surprised, Harry pulled back a little further, and his panicked brown eyes met quiet blue ones. For a few beats they stayed like that, until Harry, lost completely in those blue eyes, cast every last one of his preconceived notions about himself, his feelings, and their friendship into the newly ignited flames, and stepped into the space between them, letting let their lips touch once, briefly. Then again. And again, each time lingering longer before retreating. Tom's arms tightened, and they came together one more time, and this time neither one of them let go.

Tom's tongue trailed over Harry's lips, and Harry's greeted it. That first meeting was like touching two live EPS relays together. The shockwave radiated through Harry's body, electrifying everything in its path. His skin flushed, his nipples hardened and his cock leapt to attention. Tom's lips parted as he gasped, and Harry pressed forward, his tongue gliding over the other man's.

He couldn't get enough of it, their bodies pressed together, muscles moving between them, the heat, the fire. Tom's tongue pushed aggressively against Harry's and they fought for control of the kiss. It was good. It was so good. If it lasted forever, it wouldn't be long enough. Hot arousal rushed through Harry in waves, pulling the very air from his lungs, but it didn't matter, it was too good, he could survive on the energy of this kiss alone, survive on the electricity produced by the friction of Tom's tongue sliding over his. He wanted more, but he wasn't even sure if he could handle more.

It ended abruptly, and they both gasped for air, their chests heaving together in a delightful rhythm. Harry's ear was pressed against Tom and he felt, more than heard, him whisper his name.

"Harry. Oh, Harry."

When Tom's arms loosened, Harry whimpered in protest, but Tom stepped away from him anyway. Harry looked up, blinking as though suddenly waking up from a dream.

"What?"

"We should eat," Tom said, and Harry noticed that gentle smile had never left his lips.

"You're... thinking about food... now?" Harry said, slightly embarrassed by the way he gasped between each word.

Tom's smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth, and there was suddenly a slightly devilish glint in his eye.

"I get the feeling we're going to need the energy."

Wow. That statement went straight from Harry's ears to his groin, and Tom chuckled at the wide-eyed look it merited. Harry quickly composed himself and muttered, "Keep talking like that, and we're not going to make it back to the table."

Thrilled, Tom took Harry's hand, reinstated the characters, and led them back to the table.

Their food was waiting for them when they arrived, already at the ideal temperature for consumption: hot, but not hot enough to burn the tongue. Tom took a bite without thinking, so obviously he must have programmed the food to be just right. That's when it hit Harry. That little thing that had been bothering him since he stepped onto the holodeck. Everything was perfect.

The polished marble floor didn't have a scuff on it. The diners were all quiet, polite, and unobtrusive. The waiter seemed to be able to read their minds.

What had come over Tom? He prided himself on his obsessive holographic realism.

"Are you ok, Har?" Tom asked, noticing he wasn't eating.

"Just surprised, that's all."

"Surprised about what?"

"This program. There isn't a single blemish in the whole thing. What happened to you?"

Tom sniffed.

"You caught me."

He paused a second, his fork hovering over his plate.

"I just couldn't stand the thought of our first kiss being anything less than perfect, and I figured reality probably wouldn't cooperate. So..." He waved the fork at the restaurant around them. "I decided to improve on reality. Try the food. It's good. Trust me."

"Well, compared to Neelix's cooking-"

"No, no, no, don't even mention that vile stuff in the presence of these masterpieces."

Chuckling, Harry tried the food. Tom was right, it was heavenly. God, he hadn't tasted food like this in... well, at least seven years. Probably another one of Tom's 'improvements on reality.'

"This is good. No, this is delicious. How did you get the replicator to do this?"

"I didn't," Tom confessed.

"Well, then, how... did you make this?"

That spark of amusement returned to Tom's eyes.

"Harry, I think if you tried just a little harder you could manage to make that particular compliment even more insulting. But yes, I did make it."

"I'm sorry, I had no idea you... If you cook this well what the hell are we doing in the mess hall every night?"

Tom shrugged.

"I have to be inspired."

Silence fell over the table like nightfall on the moon, and they busied themselves with the wonderful task of eating for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry broke the silence after the meal was half-gone.

"When did you realize it? That... that you... uh... loved me?"

Tom took a bite of his salad, chewed it pensively, and took a quick sip of wine before he said, "Do you want to know when I realized it, or when it happened?"

"Both."

Tom sat back in his chair.

"Well, I realized it, I guess, about a week ago. It was during a staff meeting."

"Not exactly the kind of place one expects this type of revelation."

"No, certainly not." Tom grinned. "I don't know why, but I was just watching you, while you were talking about... something involving subspace mechanics and polar inversions."

Harry suddenly laughed.

"What?" Tom said, looking slightly hurt.

"Nothing, it's not you, it's just..." Harry took a deep breath, then continued, calmer, "Now I know what that weird look meant."

"What weird look?"

"You gave me the strangest look during a staff meeting last week. When I was trying to explain transwarp mechanics to that idiot alien."

Tom smiled.

"Yeah, that would explain the 'weird look,' as you call it. I don't know why it came to me then. I guess you were just being so... you, and it hit me all of a sudden how much I liked seeing you just... being you."

His eyes burned as he looked at Harry, and Harry felt that heat rising through him again.

"So, when did it 'happen?'"

"The moment we met," Tom said without any hesitation.

Harry smiled, and reached across the table to take Tom's hand.

"Then I guess we fell in love at the same time."

Tom stared intently at their linked hands.

"But I thought-"

"You figured it out at that staff meeting, I figured it out tonight."

Their eyes locked together over the table. God, where had this come from? This overpowering desire to just, just tear Tom's clothes off and take him right then, right there-

"You know," Tom said, in a quiet, strained voice, "I'm not really hungry anymore."

"Me neither,"Harry said, and they were both on their feet, their arms were tight around each other. Their lips collided, grappled, and then their tongues met again, coiling around each other like two lovers greeting after far too long an absence.

When they pulled apart for a moment to breathe, and to rearrange their limbs to better accommodate the kiss, Tom panted yet another command to the computer.

The restaurant vanished from around them and they were suddenly in a warm room, standing before a roaring fireplace. Naturally, the room was dominated by a large bed.

"I always knew you had a program like this stashed somewhere," Harry whispered, as he threw his head back and let Tom's tongue trail over his throat.

"Programmed it yesterday," Tom whispered in response. His mouth pressed into the hollow at the base of Harry's throat, and his lips moved against Harry's hot skin. Harry could feel every syllable as a rush of moist air, and a shiver ran down his spine. "Just for you, Har."

After it was no longer needed to form words, Tom's tongue returned, gently wetting the soft skin beneath his lips. Harry moaned, and his knees threatened to buckle. Of course Tom was there to catch him as he half-fell, and in a moment they were both on the bed, sinking into its soft depths. Tom was on top of him, as his hand had been on top of Harry's earlier. It wasn't awkward, but it was a such a new experience they didn't push it.

They kissed and touched, let themselves get used to the idea slowly, comfortably. Their hands wandered over ribs and arms, caressing, but still sticking to more neutral areas. It went on like that for a long time, but gradually, the intensity began to increase. Tom tugged at Harry's coat and Harry arched his back, letting him pull it off.

The coats came off easily, but the shirts, with their many buttons, presented a bit more of a challenge. Tom hung over Harry, supporting himself with one hand, battling the buttons with the other, until he finally just muttered, "To hell with it," and tore the damn thing open. Harry's laugh was cut off when Tom's mouth found his nipple. He gasped and arched up against Tom as that wonderful tongue slid back and forth over the knot of hard, sensitive flesh. God, it felt so good, it practically burned. His gasps changed to a moans as Tom began to suck, gently at first, and then harder, letting his teeth just barely graze the skin.

"Tom!" Harry cried, his fingers digging into Tom's arms, still clad in an annoying layer of cloth.

The other man shifted, and almost instinctively, Harry's hands moved around to the front of the shirt, and he began unbuttoning it with shaking hands. He had a better angle on the task than Tom had had, so he made it almost half way down the row of buttons before giving in to the desperate need to get Tom's shirt off and yanking it open. Tom helped him in his quest, managing to get one arm most of the way out of the shirt... only to be foiled by the buttons at the cuffs. After the skirmish that ensued, the shirt was finally cast aside, and Harry found himself lying on his side next to Tom. He leaned in, dropping quick kisses on Tom's partly open lips, on his cheekbone, his nose, his eyelids, and then stopped at his ear. Lightly, he trailed his tongue along the fold around the edge, and Tom groaned and rocked towards him, their bare chests touching for a moment.

"Yes," Tom murmured as Harry took his earlobe in his mouth. He sucked at it firmly, loving the way it made Tom twitch.

When he realized he was losing control of the situation, Tom shook his ear free from Harry's teeth and rolled onto his side. He slid his hands inside the open shirt and around Harry's ribs, then tugged to untuck the shirt from his pants. Through the fuzzy haze Tom's kisses were casting over Harry's mind, he realized what Tom was doing and somehow managed to unhook the cuff links and wriggle free of his shirt. Now, there was nothing between them from the waist up. They cuddled close together, warmed by the fire and the heat of one another's skin, and Harry opened his eyes and found himself staring into Tom's again. They were as dark blue as the depths of space. Harry could feel Tom's hands moving over his back, but that touch wasn't half as arousing as the look in Tom's eyes, or how hot and flushed Tom's skin was.

"I love you," Tom said. He didn't have to say it. It was shining in his eyes.

Harry ran his finger down his face, tracing along the edge of his hairline, then down the curve of his neck and around his bare shoulder.

"I love you, too."

Yes, it sounded right. His hand continued on down, over Tom's ribs, and the softer skin of his abdomen, where it lingered for a second, before working up the nerve to trail lightly over his ass. Tom took a shaky breath, his eyes falling closed, and Harry felt his hands clench briefly into fists against his back. When Tom opened his eyes, Harry whispered, "I've never done this before... not with a guy."

Tom hands moved down Harry's back in long smooth strokes.

"Me neither," he said, with a slight smile, "but I did some research."

Harry had to laugh.

"What did you find?"

Tom raised an eyebrow enticingly.

"Come a little closer and I'll tell you."

That was an offer Harry couldn't refuse and as he leaned in closer, Tom caught him and used the extra momentum to roll them over so that Harry was lying on top off him. Tom brought his knees up and wrapped his calves around the younger man's thighs. In this new position, Harry felt something hot and hard pressing into his stomach. With a start, he realized what it was, and suddenly, he knew he had to get Tom out of those pants. Right... now...

Tom shot Harry a questioning look as he let himself fall back onto the bed, but understanding dawned on him instantly as Harry fumbled with his belt buckle. As badly as he wanted to get Tom naked, some part of him shied away from actually touching his friend... there. Especially now, when the bulge under his fly was so painfully obvious. Tom's hand suddenly joined his, unhooking all the various clasps and zippers involved, and then Tom lifted his hips off the bed. Harry braced himself, grabbed both Tom's pants and boxers by the waistband, and with one swift determined sweep of his arm, tugged them down to around Tom's ankles. Tom kicked the last of his clothing off to join the increasing clutter on the floor, and Harry could do nothing but stare, at everything except...

"You ok, Har?" Tom asked, his voice containing a hint off amusement.

"Gods, you're beautiful," Harry said. He could barely force the words out.

Tom, apparently feeling none of the awkwardness that was restraining Harry, moved onto his side, propped himself up on one elbow, and glanced down Harry's body, his eyes lingering at Harry's crotch. A moment later, one of Tom's hands followed his gaze and Harry cried out and bucked against Tom as he felt that feather light touch through his pants. Tom eased closer, sliding his naked body over him, massaging Harry's erection a bit more firmly. Harry moaned helplessly, involuntarily thrusting into Tom's touch.

He whimpered when the hand vanished, but it was only gone long enough to unzip Harry's fly, and then it returned, now in direct, skin-to-skin contact with Harry's cock. Harry struggled to maintain his sanity long enough to unbuckle his pants and push them down. With a little help from Tom, Harry was finally completely naked. It was practically sensory overload, feeling Tom everywhere, his legs, his chest, his cock. Apparently Tom was feeling the same way, because he moaned and thrust his hips against Harry. Their cocks rubbed together, and they both yelped softly.

Tom pulled back and edged down Harry's body a bit. He trailed his tounge around his throat, nibbled at his collarbone. Together they explored one another, finding places the other never knew existed, noted what made them gasp and sigh and moan, licking, sucking, touching, until they ended up back in each other's arms, Tom on top again, their hands wandering, tounges joining in a searching kiss. Tom's fingers toyed with Harry's balls and Harry moaned into his mouth. They crushed together, legs tangled, and began moving, one sweat-slicked chest sliding against another, their cocks pressed against each other's bodies, providing just enough friction... rocking faster, harder, the roaring in his ears built to a crescendo...

... and Harry forced himself to stop. He worked an arm between them and coaxed Tom off of him, so that they were lying on their sides facing each other, but not touching. Tom reached out to run a hand over him, but Harry intercepted his hand with his own and brought it down onto the covers between them.

Slowly, his breathing returned to a slightly normal rate, and he squeezed Tom's hand. Tom gazed at him, but made no move to touch him.

"Harry, if you don't want to do this, we don't have to."

Harry stroked Tom's hand with the tips of his fingers.

"Just give me a second. This... it's all happened a little fast for my tastes. I mean, a while ago, I thought we were friends, nothing more, and now, now... gods, I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone."

"Take all the time you need."

A silence fell between them, as warm as the air. Tom's body was almost silhoutted against the flames from this angle, just the barest hint of flickering yellow fireglow melted over his sides, highlighting every rib, ever muscle. Harry's eyes skirted around his friend's erection; he was as unwilling to look as he was to touch.

"Harry," Tom whispered, "Look at me."

Harry frowned, confused.

"I am looking at you."

"You know what I mean. If you can't even stand to acknowledge the fact that you're in bed with another guy... I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to."

Harry never liked losing control. He was far too left-brained. And he realized that was what was stopping him. One good look, one touch, and he knew he would lose control. Probably permanently.

But what the hell.

He eased a tiny bit further away and drank in the site of Tom, all of him, lounging on the bed, extremely turned-on, smiling that soft, loving smile again. Gods. Oh, dear gods. Harry had never been so hard in all his life. His breathing was fast and rough again and Tom hadn't even laid a hand on him.

Tom rolled onto his back, making Harry practically squeak with desire, and reached an arm languidly over to the night stand by the bed. He was back on his side, pressed against Harry before the younger man had a chance to see what it was he had retrieved from the drawer. He didn't give him a chance to ask either. He kissed his lips quickly, the movement towards Harry causing the tips of thier cocks to touch again, and one strong arm caught Harry when his body jolted involuntarily. The arm retracted from around him as they continued kissing, and Tom caught Harry's hand and deposited it on his waist. Harry knew what he was implying, but he hestitated awhile, letting his fingernails trace idle circles around Tom's hip bones as Tom's free hand roamed over his body.

Another warm pulse of hormones swept over him as Tom caressed the hyper-sensitive flesh on the back of Harry's thigh, and Harry used the brief surpression of his inhibitions to drop his hand down and wrap it loosely around Tom's cock.

Tom cried out. Harry leaned closer, stroking him, watching his reactions, the way his eyes squeezed shut and his breath came faster, the shudders that ran over his whole body. Gods, Harry wanted him so bad, but he didn't even know what to do about it.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, it seemed, Tom's hand was gripping his erection again, coated with something cool and slick. The shock of the unexpected touch made Harry's hand clench slightly. Tom own hand paused for a second, and he made a small noise in his throat.

"Sorry..." Harry whispered.

"Dear gods," Tom replied, his hand beginning to move again, gently speading the cool slickness over Harry, "Don't apologize..."

Tom placed a small tube of something in Harry's hand.

"Wha-" Gods, it was hard to talk when Tom was doing... well, whatever it was.

"Lubricant," Tom whispered. His words brushed over Harry's ear.

Tom rolled onto his back and drew his knees up, letting his legs fall open. Harry whimpered. It was all he could do not to come right then. He averted his eyes, looking up at Tom's face.

"What... what do I do?" Harry asked, impressed that he still had the capacity for speech.

It was exceedingly difficult to ignore the way Tom's hands idly toyed with his own nipples as he spoke.

"Get some of the lube on your fingers and... stick them up my ass, one at a time... you have to strech the muscles... or something..."

"Oh, that's helpful. Tom, maybe you should do this first. You're the one who..."

Tom half sat up.

"No!"

He flopped back down against the bed.

"I want you... I want to feel you... inside me. I've been thinking about this all week. Please, Har."

Like that was a request Harry could have refused. He flipped open the tube and spread a glob of the gel over his fingers then moved over to Tom, who threw his head back and lifted his feet. Harry ran his finger over the tight ring of muscle, and Tom rocked up against his finger. He shut his eyes, then pushed, feeling his cock jump as his finger slid inside Tom.

"Oh, gods, yes, Harry," Tom sighed, his hands cluching at the blanket beneath him.

Harry began to move his finger back and forth gently, coaxing the tight muscles to relax. Tom was reacting powerfully to that movement, gasping and moaning desperatly. He began to lift his hips to push against Harry's finger.

As Harry's finger moved, he inadvertantly brushed Tom's prostate. Tom cried out. Oh, now that was intriuging.... Harry did it again.

"Harry!"

Harry grinned, and pulled his hand back far enough to add a second finger. Tom moaned, and lifted his own hand from the covers to stroke himself lightly. Harry took the hand away, and ignored Tom's whimpered protest. Harry continued to move his fingers, but his whole body tensed as he eyed Tom's cock. A small bead of liquid collected at the tip, gleaming in the firelight like a jewel. Harry took a shaky breath, and then thought to himself, *what the hell.* He leaned forward and licked the drop away. Oh, that taste... it was just, so, so, Tom...

Tom's breathing was rapid and ragged. His hands cletched tight into white-knuckeled fists on the covers. Harry smiled, and then took Tom in his mouth. He sucked gently, never stopping the gentle motion of his fingers, and as he slid in a third finger, he let his teeth just barely graze Tom's senstive skin. Tom's whole body spasmed at the sensation.

"Harry, I'm gonna-"

Harry backed away reluctantly, and then withdrew his fingers, rocking back on his heels.

"Wha-" Tom raised his head to look at him.

"Do you think... are you ready?"

Tom's head fell back against the mattress.

"Gods, Har I've never been more ready for anything..."

He lay still for a second, then rolled onto his stomach, and rose to his elbows and knees, resting his forhead on the bed and looking at Harry upside-down.

"Take it slow at first..."

Harry knelt behind Tom, with the head of his cock pressed against Tom's ass.

"You damn well better tell me if I hurt you," he said, and slowly, carefully, he leaned forward, and oh gods, at long last he was easing inside of him, and it was tight, and hot, and perfect, and he could feel the fire inside burning out of control, and he just hoped no one got burned. And somewhere amidst the smoke of that wildfire, his brain reminded him that he was not the only person involved here, and somehow, he formed words.

"You ok?"

"Yes, yes, I am ok. Harry, enough already, please, please, just fuck me..."

Harry edged back, unsure if that meant Tom was enjoying this or not. Tom's moan stopped him.

"Tom?"

"I had no idea... how good that would feel..."

Harry breathed a shaky sigh of relief, and then gently pushed back into Tom, then withdrew slightly again. Slowly, he began to increase the pace. He noticed that Tom was rocking back against him, driving him deeper. He was breathing hard and fast, and waves of sensations swept through his entire body with every thurst.

"Oh, Tom."

He began thrusting into him in earnest, feeling the edges of his control fall into the flames. He hoped he wasn't hurting Tom, because there was really very little he could do about it at this point. Tom rocked back against him, harder and faster, pushing him to speed up. He didn't disappoint him. It seemed that they were suddenly completely in sync. Thursting together, gasping together. Tom was moaning steadily, mumuring something almost too soft and indistinct for Harry to make out, but that was steadily increasing in volume with every movement.

"Love you, love you, love you..."

Gods, if his heart beat any faster it would burst. He reached around and grasped Tom's erection, massaging it in time with their thursts. The muscles in Tom's ass cleched at the touch, and Harry cried, "Tom!" In a moment, it had become a chant.

He could feel his climax approaching, and given the franticness of Tom's cries, he guessed he was close, too. He pulled back, and then thurst back in, hard, fast, as deep as he dared to go. Tom screamed as he came, soaking Harry's hand with the hot liquid. At the same instant, Harry felt Tom's muscles clench around him again, and it seemed to send a shock to every part of his body, racing through him like fire and lightening, and his shout mingled with Tom's as his own orgasm tore through him and he spent himself deep, deep within his best friend's body.

They both collapsed on the bed, too tired for the moment to even try to avoid the wet spot on the covers. Tom managed to move first. He squirmed out from under Harry and then lay on his side behind him, enveloping him in his arms and placing a kiss on his head.

"Harry, you are amazing."

Harry barely lifted his head, just enough to let Tom see his tired smile. Then he collapsed again. Gentle fingers made trails through his hair. Harry listened to Tom's breathing, as it gradually returned to normal. After a little while, he was able to shift enough to lay on his side, spooned up against Tom's body. He could feel Tom smile against the back of his neck. For the first time, he noticed the room had a window, which looked out into a dark night. Soft white snow flakes swirled beyond the panes.

"I could stay here forever," he whispered.

"So could I," Tom said, hugging him tight. He silent for a moment, then he added, "But, we've got to clear out in about twenty minutes."

Harry rolled over and glared at Tom.

"Twenty minutes?"

Tom didn't look hurried.

"It's been about two hours, Har. Besides, there's a nice warm bed in my quarters..."

It felt like they were standing at the edge of a precipice, looking out over an expansive plain. Breathtaking. Harry's heart beat a little faster.

"Our quarters...?" He barely breathed the words. He wasn't even sure if he'd actually spoken them until he saw the change on Tom's face. It was a slow dawning, clouds clearing after a long rainy season.

"Ours," Tom whispered.

The fire crackled as they pulled each other close for a long, long kiss.

The End
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