Any Port...
By R'rain

Tom slouched against the wall heavily, half-lidded eyes watching the bodies pass on the street in front of him. One pair of shapely legs after another, all lengths, all widths, all beautiful. The heat here on this planet kept native clothing to a bare minimum; in other circumstances he might have pursued something, someone, but after his first day here he better understood the practicality of such dress and nearly forgot the tittilation factor. The heat sapped his strength, left him able to do little more lean against a strong, brick wall and watch.

He spotted someone leaning over nearby, getting a drink, her ass covered in sheer fabric that clung to her body yet still appeared cool. He smiled a little to himself, fantasies playing themselves out in his head though he knew they would always remain just that.

When Harry Kim stood up from the water fountain, Tom felt a chill go right through him as his breath caught in his throat.

"Tom." Harry's voice had slowed to almost a drawl, the word getting caught in the thick, wet air between them. Tom leaned towards it, leaned towards him, the motion as unconscious as his thoughts about his best friend were now starkly conscious. Conscious and overwhelming.

"I'm glad to see you," he said, reaching the wall beside Tom, leaning back and lifting a knee to place one booted foot flat against the wall.

"It's hot," said Tom finally, inanely, pulling his sweaty shirt away from his chest as surely as he tore his eyes away from Harry, letting them settle on the parade of legs again. Looking at him now, there was no mistaking Harry for a woman...so why did that white hot bolt of arousal remain, curled inside him, waiting for a chance to burst forth again. He daren't look.

"Too hot," agreed Harry congenially, closing his eyes and leaning his head back so that the sun shone on his upturned face. "But it was either this, or waiting another two months for a chance at shore leave."

"I know." Tom's body leaned, again unconsciously, towards his friend, their shoulders brushing for an instant before Harry pushed himself away from the wall.

"Much as I like the view," he said with a lazy yawn and a wink, "why don't we head inside."

The brick building was climate controlled, and therefore quite comfortable, but this time of day it was also empty. Cool, airy, beautiful... and utterly deserted.

"All right," his voice betrayed him, and he followed.

The first touch of breeze against his damp forehead made Tom pause and let his eyes drift shut, even as the heavy door was closing with finality behind him.

"Feels good, huh," Harry's voice whispered in his ear.

The cool air made his limbs lighter, his motions rapid. Without allowing himself a single moment to clear his head, to think, Tom turned and lay a kiss on Harry's still-parted lips.

And there they stood for timeless moments, neither man moving, neither man breathing, their lips barely touching but that touch more intimate than anything had been between them before.

Harry closed his eyes, then opened them again as Tom pulled away. An uncertain grin crossed his face. "Been too long, huh, Paris?" He made a motion to give his friend a good-natured slap on the shoulder, but paused halfway as he saw the shocked but serious expression on Tom's face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Why?" Harry's voice, now soft, still echoed in the large, empty room. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," said Tom. He tried to shake the blurriness from his head, but a pleasant afterglow remained as did his arousal, a constant reminder of how his body now saw this man. This man...he, who had never wanted a man before in his short yet prolific life.

Harry's fingers rose to brush against his own lips, his eyes full of questions that he couldn't ask. Tom, too, reached out and brushed his fingers over Harry's lips.

"I want you," he said with awe, his voice quavering but his gaze remaining steady as he caught Harry's dark brown eyes.

"Why?"

"I don't know." A harshness came back into his voice, that magical silence broken. The confession echoed off the walls, echoed off the paintings hanging on them, echoed off the large, ornate sculptures that decorated this deserted meeting hall. "Because you're you?"

"Because I'm me," Harry repeated.

"Because you're Harry Kim, and because you're here with me right now, and because we can."

"Because we can." Harry smiled, almost unsurprised now. "I've never..."

"Been with a man?"

"Thought about being with a man," he finished. As Tom turned away, both disappointment and relief flashing across his face, Harry caught his trailing hand. "Hey, that doesn't mean I won't..."

"Hey, no big deal," shrugged Tom, clearing his throat to cover the crack in his voice.

"It could be a big deal," reasoned Harry, his grip on Tom's hand tightening.

"There'll be other chances," Tom went on, moving neither closer nor away. "You know, next time we have shore leave, or on the holodeck. Just because you're my friend doesn't mean you have to accommodate every little crazy urge I have, Harry." He laughed, but was unable to disguise his lack of mirth.

"Since when, huh?" said Harry, pulling him closer. "Since when do I not go along with Tom Paris' crazy plans?"

"You don't always."

"I do this time." He pulled Tom closer, giving him a brief but confident kiss. "Besides...however long it's been for you, I bet it's been longer for me."

Tom laughed, genuinely. "You want to make a friendly wager...?"

Harry kissed him again, this time going beyond the mere touch of lips into something deeper. Their tongues tangled for long, long moments before they parted, breathless. Of course it was pure insanity to do anything in this airy room, where just hours before his captain and her first officer had been meeting with planetary officials, but the heat that no longer seared his skin was now boiling his blood. He had no choice.

Harry pulled him down onto the plush carpet, or maybe he was the one who pulled Harry down, or maybe it really didn't matter who did what anymore. Clothes were peeled from already sweaty bodies and mouths found places to touch that they had never explored before.

Tom's only sounds were a sigh, then a moan, then another moan as the sensations began to build within him. Harry's breaths came in harsh gasps now; Tom could feel them as they huffed against his skin, could hear the sounds that Harry tried to stifle as they pressed against one another, chest to chest, cheek to cheek, their hands roaming everywhere they could.

"So close," he gasped out as Harry's lips found a seldom traversed path down his chest, through the soft hairs there and over one peaked nipple. He knew where he wanted his friend's lips to end up, knew but could never ask. A small cry sounded from his throat as Harry proved to him that he needn't ask after all.

He didn't last, couldn't, with the cool air stimulating his senses as much as Harry's lips. The fuzziness of the heat outdoors was replaced with the sharp clarity of hot and cold and wet and dry and waves of piercing pleasure. Tom came.

"Harry..." He reached out half-blindly for his friend, knowing that the rules of tryst were tit for tat and for once actually wanting to follow them. He grasped Harry's erection with a sure hand, caressing and tugging and pulling sweet sounds from Harry's swollen lips. Harry, too, climaxed within minutes, gasping in a giant breath and hissing it out again. His arm fell over Tom, rolling against him, his slowing breaths brushing Tom's sensitive skin.

They didn't speak, didn't even open their eyes, as they lay there, until finally they both felt the need to move, to get up, to separate.

"We should go," said Harry, turning away modestly and pulling on his clothing. "Voyager will be leaving soon."

"You're right," Tom had to agree as he followed suit with embarrassed haste.

He was ready to guiltily slip out of the room, to leave this moment behind them, until Harry reached out to take his hand, and smiled.