Profit, nah, just lots of fun for me and the boys.

Thanks Wolfling and Mischka for betaing. This story should not be archived anywhere but the sites I have requested. My first slash to this list and all because list mom prodded and inspiration visited. And yes listmom, I am still working on the other one .

Thank you Carolyn. Without you, many of my recent successes would not have materialized.

Feedback of all types appreciated -- how else will I improve?

Summary: Tom and Harry both get some and assume new roles. (NC17, P/K, D/s)

Scene 1

Tom leaned over and lined up his cue for a difficult bank shot. "I think I should raise the stakes here Harry."

Harry grinned and refused to be led. "Oh I don't know Tom, I think you have enough of my rations to treat me to a fine dinner tomorrow night. Why should I give you any more?"

Tom tapped the ball with just enough force to start it moving in the right direction to pocket two others. He straightened and said without a glimmer of a smile. "I am."

A patented expression of disbelief crossed the ensign's face. "Looking out for me? By stripping me of all my rations? Just how are you 'looking out for me'?"

Tom moved around the table, lined up his next shot and sank the last ball in the pocket.

Harry sighed and handed the datapad over to Tom. "Here's more of you 'looking out for me.'"

Tom grinned and led his friend back to their seats. He slung his arm companionably around Harry's shoulders.

"My friend, as long as I keep you without rations, you won't go breaking your heart over Seven."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "That's my friend, always 'looking out for me' while helping himself to more of my rations - preventing me from making mistakes." There was the barest hint of bitterness in his words and Tom shot him a surprised look.

An uncomfortable silence became a third presence at the table. Harry looked into the pilot's eyes and saw only concern reflected back at him.

The blonde cleared his throat and signaled to Sandrine. When he caught her attention, she tilted her head in acknowledgment and snapped her fingers at the bartender. As it had been between them recently, Tom asked something innocuous -- a topic that didn't involve the former borg or Voyager's chief engineer.

"So Harry, did you finish upgrading the deflector circuitry? I know you had a great idea about improving efficiency."

Harry sighed soundlessly. Another non-emotional discussion with Tom. He wished he had the courage. 'You always have an excuse Harry.' he mocked. 'Akiiteria was too raw and humbling, Taresia was too embarrassing.' He noticed the interest on his friend's face and pulled his thoughts together to begin an involved description of his progress. When Sandrine approached, he took the mug of synthale and continued speaking.

Sandrine's was a holoprogram of a bar in Marseilles that Tom Paris had frequented. Until Harry had visited the tavern when he had been plucked out of his timeline and dropped into an alternate one, he hadn't been aware of how close to reality the program was. He appreciated how much effort Tom had put into the holoprogram. He had worked on it steadily when he first joined Voyager. Once when asked, the pilot had told him that when he first came on board, he could not get used to freedom after NZPS. He had the autonomy to do whatever he wanted with his time, without restrictions but he had no friends with whom he could spend his free hours. And, as Tom would later confide in him, this project had filled the night hours when the lieutenant had awakened from nightmares.

When Harry finally wound down, he realized he was holding the mug and took a sip. Tom remained slouched in his chair listening with rapt attention.

The holographic image of Sandrine had remained at their table after serving the drinks. She cleared her throat to get the pilot's attention. Tom looked up inquiringly dragging his attention from his friend. Sandrine opened her palm. Tom turned two shades paler and risked a quick glance at Harry.

"It's your anniversary T'omas. Have you found the one?"

Harry snorted and choked on his drink. Black eyes watered and he repeated what he just heard. "What anniversary?"

Tom wrapped the long fingers of his right hand around Sandrine's open palm and closed it gently, obscuring Harry's view of the item.

He smiled sadly, but did not answer. Sandrine shook her head and turned away. Harry dabbed his eyes and questioned hoarsely, "What was that about?"

Tom's earlier joviality was gone. "Ask me another time Harry. I have to go now."

The ensign observed the panicked look on the pilot's face. "Sure Tom. But I want an answer later."

Tom fled.

Harry thought about the exchange between Sandrine and Tom and wondered what it meant. He didn't get a good look at what Sandrine had held in her palm because it was turned away from him. He sipped his drink thoughtfully and contemplated the mystery. He considered questioning the hologram, but knew he wouldn't get an answer from her. Sandrine was Tom's creation. Though she moved through the crowd dispensing hugs and welcome impartially, she served a different function for Tom and their relationship went deeper.

******

Scene 2

Tom paced in his quarters. He couldn't relax enough to sleep. His mind skipped from one thought to another and he knew that rest would not come to him tonight. He decided to try to outrun the need coiling through his body.

"Computer, is holodeck 2 free?"

Upon receiving an affirmative, he reserved six hours. Before he left his quarters, he checked for Harry's location. Ten minutes later, Tom's heels were pounding across the Atlantic City Boardwalk, Earth, circa 1999. It tickled his sense of the absurd. On one side was the pounding gray-brown surf of the Atlantic and on the other a continuous line of garish, hawking casinos. Tom's legs pumped, his mind emptied of all thoughts and with each mile he tried to outrun his lust for his best friend. He collapsed in a heap abruptly. His singlet was soaked and every single muscle in his body burned. Harsh pants made it difficult for him to phrase his request.

He gasped, "Computer, run Paris-Sandrine-alpha-variant." The north Atlantic horizon winked out of existence to be replaced by a plush boudoir. Sandrine entered the room.

She clicked unhappily. "Ahhh T'omas, you did it again."

The blond head remained bent, his entire body screamed of exhaustion. Sandrine moved around the still figure and prepared the bath. When it was ready, she touched his arm gently. She helped him up as he stumbled to his feet. On rubbery legs, Tom reached the edge of the tub. He sank up to his neck into the deep tub filled with tepid water and closed his eyes.

Sandrine, nudged a cold glass of water along the wide edge of the porcelain tub to his limp hand. Then she sat on one of the mounting steps outside the tub. She observed her charge fondly. Voyager's extraordinary pilot lay back in the tub; tall, lean, lightly muscled and in a state of total relaxation. His looks? She had been programmed with a recognition for esthetics and appreciated the handsome face, dark blonde hair, blue eyes. Her conclusion - he was extremely attractive. His personality? Tom was cocky, head strong, and extremely irritating at times. She based this deduction on the snippets of conversation she overheard from numerous patrons, but other customers claimed he was compassionate, supportive and caring. Tom was a puzzle and no-one on board had all the parts of him assembled.

Sandrine flicked some water at him. Tom opened his eyes warily.

When Tom had programmed Sandrine's, he had taken the most care with the proprietress. He was stranded on a ship without friends save for Harry Kim and he had needed someone else. There were some things he could not tell the ensign, thus Sandrine possessed a lot more programming than your average recreational hologram. Further refinement had elevated her to the role of confessor in his life. However, spending this particular evening with her would not have been his first choice. At this moment, though, he was too tired to care.

"So T'omas, what is it?"

At times like these, he resented every microcircuit he had programmed into her.

Tom hesitated. "What's what?"

"T'omas." Sandrine was exasperated. "I want an answer."

"I can't tell him Sandrine."

"Ahhh," she nodded sagely, "you think you will lose his friendship."

Tom muttered, "No, I don't think I will, but it will be tainted with pity."

Tom waved his hands agitatedly. "Every time I touch him, talk with him or spend time with him, he'll wonder. He'll question if I have an ulterior motive."

Sandrine was silent as she digested this information. "T'omas, I have seen how he looks at you, when you are not looking."

A disbelieving snort greeted this remark. "What do you know about it Sandrine? Everything you know about sexuality, I told you. You are a ...." Tom lapsed into silence.

"A program.... a holoprogram.... Cheri, the doctor told me one night exactly what I was. Pompous prig." Sandrine ridiculed sotto voce.

"You know? The doctor told you?"

"T'omas you will not divert me. I may be what the doctor told me I was, but I have eyes. And I am not the only one," the woman at the edge of the tub pronounced smugly.

"What?"

Sandrine smiled and ignored him. She rose from the step and went to fluff the pillows on the bed.

Tom regretted every moment spent programming the French tavern owner. When he had started the project, he desired the program to be as close as possible to the personality of the real Sandrine. He had succeeded obviously. Sandrine from Marseilles had loved to keep her little secrets about her patrons and was very stubborn about revealing any of them.

Suddenly depressed, the pilot rose from the tub and picked up the warmed towel. He patted himself dry and moved slowly across the room to the bed. He programmed the computer to wake him in four hours then he eased into bed.

Sandrine had disappeared; she would return with a fresh uniform before he woke.

******

Begin Part 3

Someone was staring at him. Harry swam up to consciousness.

"Computer, lights." The words were out of his mouth before he was fully awake.

He rolled over from his stomach to his back and the bedsheets twisted around his body. His eyes blinked open and he stared fuzzily at the figure wandering around his room. He slapped down on his combadge. Then the woman turned around. It was Sandrine.

"Sandrine?"

"Ensign Kim, you have activated your combadge. Is there a problem?"

Harry tore his attention away from the hologram prowling through his room. She was examining his clarinet.

"Errr, no Tuvok. It's OK."

"Ensign Kim, are you aware that it is against Starfleet regulations to activate your combadge without a valid reason?"

Before Kaltoh lessons, Harry would have assumed Tuvok was reprimanding him, but now he knew better.

"Yes Tuvok, but every so often I have to test you to see if you are on your toes and not sleeping on Gamma shift."

The eloquent silence on the other end of the link was satisfying. 'Hmmm, must be picking up more from Tom than I thought.' Harry told himself, amused. He clicked off his connection and slid out of bed. Speaking of Tom, just what was Sandrine doing in his bedroom? Unless it wasn't Sandrine but an alien like Marayna utilizing the holoprogram to communicate with the crew.

"Sandrine?" Harry asked again. One couldn't be too careful in the Delta Quadrant.

"Yes 'arry."

"What are you doing here? Actually, how did you get here?"

Harry walked around the woman. His mind was buzzing with the ramifications. How had Sandrine done this?

"That is not important, but this is." Sandrine extended her hand.

Harry looked at her hand and then shifted his gaze back to the her face. He made no move to take whatever was in her hand.

"Did you reprogram the computer? I would have thought you would be in Tom's quarters... unless... did he send you? Is something wrong with Tom?"

Harry was about to activate his combadge again. Instantly Sandrine closed the distance between them . The hand that descended on his and prevented him from using his badge was reassuringly firm.

"Merde. I came here to give you a gift."

Harry edged backward and picked up his tricorder. He scanned Sandrine.

"Tete de pioche." Harry heard the image mutter.

A black leather band dropped onto the open face of his tricorder. He looked up in surprise.

"Huh?"

"Sacre dieu. Blockhead. Why does Tom want you as an owner? Je ne sais pas. I would think he would have chosen someone with intelligence."

Harry looked up. He couldn't believe it. He had just been insulted by a hologram. He picked up the black leather band between two fingers and finished his scan. Sandrine was not giving off any life readings. When he looked up again the hologram had disappeared. The only reminder of its presence was the thin band caught between his fingers. Harry's hand hovered over his combadge before dropping slowly to his side. He sighed and mouthed his favorite mantra, 'Weird is part of the job.' He focused on the black band. Whatever it was, it belonged to Tom.

The musical chimes of his morning alarm sounded and interrupted his musings and Harry dropped the memento on his bed. He headed for the shower, his mind occupied with two thoughts - Sandrine's odd appearance in his quarters and whatever that black thing was. At 0700 hours he decided that he would talk to Tom about Sandrine's odd visit to his quarters at the end of their shift since they were on staggered lunch breaks this week. Harry was having lunch with B'Elanna today. He thought about discussing the subject with her but remembered the engineer's dislike of Sandrine and decided he wouldn't. Harry lathered his body and continued his ruminations. He wasn't quite sure why Tom's relationship with B'Elanna had fizzled. He also didn't understand B'Elanna's animosity of Sandrine and decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

Sandrine's odd appearance in his quarters occupied his thoughts until 1259. At 1300 he turned his brain to solving the mystery of the black band. An inconvenient spatial anomaly prevented him from focusing fully on the significance of the leather band. He spent the rest of his shift executing abrupt orders from B'Elanna and Seven as he tried to increase resolution on his long range sensors. 1800 hours and his relief took over. Harry left with a grateful smile. He would need a massage to work the kinks out of his shoulder caused by crouching under the Ops console making circuitry corrections for most of the afternoon. He knew his friend had been relieved by Ayala an hour earlier and had fled the bridge happily.

Harry entered the turbolift and requested his deck. He tried to contort his body to soothe a particular little knot that was just out of reach. He sighed, what he needed was an attentive.... Every single thought process in the ensign's brain skidded to a halt. He cycled through odd bits and phrases from last night: Sandrine's question; Tom's dismay; his unexpected early morning wake up call; and finally, the simple black leather band. That elegant restraint... too small to be a wrist band...too large to be a hair restraint - it was a cock ring - a thin strip of black leather, soft and supple with a double loop and button fastening at the either end. Harry thought about the diameter of the ring. He was impressed. Tom was hiding quite a surprise.

Voyager's Ops officer entered his quarters, thinking. As he stripped out of his uniform, his eyes were drawn to the innocuous strip of leather. Tom was his friend. If he was wrong in his supposition, their friendship would never recover.

"Computer, location of Lt. Paris."

"Lt. Paris is in Ensign Wildman's quarters," was the prompt response.

Harry remembered that Tom had promised to relieve Wildman tonight. She was teaching a class on ancient Ktarian culture. Harry's brain poked again at the forbidden idea. He examined it closely. Tom was his superior officer, he was also his best friend. Harry picked up the curved band. He fingered it gently. If he went forward with this, his relationship with Tom would have a new dimension. He loved Tom. That was not in doubt. But could he be Tom's master? The ensign licked his lips. To have Tom at his beck and call, to have him obeying his every command... commands to pleasure himself, parade himself....'Oh Harry, that won't be a stretch for you at all.'

Harry checked again. Tom was still in Wildman's quarters. Three minutes later, he was tapping out the complex pass code to the pilot's accommodations. He dropped the circlet in the middle of an unmade bed with a data pad next to it. Harry stepped over a discarded uniform and made another decision. He went back to the bed and added another line to his instructions. Just as he reached the door, he was swept by a wave sheer terror. Tom Paris was his friend, his soulmate. He was risking all if he remained on this path. Compared to the loss of Tom's friendship, being thrown in the brig by the Captain for making improper suggestions to a senior officer would be immaterial. He took a deep breath and reminded himself about his regret from last night - so many missed opportunities - he had to act now. This was the right time. Harry left Tom's quarters. He would return at 2222.

******

Scene 4

Harry straightened his cream, silk shirt and moved confidently down the corridor to Tom's quarters. He was quaking inside, but nothing showed on his smooth visage. A door swished open on his left as he passed by and he nodded to Carey who poked his head out checking the corridor. Harry smiled at Merle who was approaching Carey's door. He even shared a conspiratorial grin with Bateheart as they both watched Merle tap on the engineer's door. Maybe it was a night for romance.

Silly, inconsequential thoughts ran through the ensign's mind as he closed the distance to Paris' door. Nothing he could grasp onto... odd half formed thoughts. He could not think past one immediate question. Would Tom be waiting behind the door? Harry stood outside his best friend's quarters hesitating. Maybe he didn't have a friend anymore. He was paralyzed. He drew a deep breath of recycled air. This was it. He tapped out an impatient rhythm on the cabin door.

There was no answer. Harry's heart dropped to the bottom of his high- gloss boots. His heart twisted and ached with regret. Why had he taken that irrevocable step? He should have left his relationship with Tom as it was. He would have been satisfied with occasional touches, smiles and covert glances at Tom's ass while they played pool and hoverball.

Harry felt the burning at the back of his eyes. He swallowed his despair. He couldn't stand out here for the rest of the night. Maybe he could talk to Tom, gloss over it and they could get past this little aberration. He pressed the door pad and the portal hissed open. The light from the corridor made an angled wedge in the dark room. Harry stepped into the darkened antechamber. A relieved breath whistled out of him, so far no one had arrested him. The door slid shut behind him.

Maybe Tom hadn't come back to his room this evening. The ensign wondered if he could grab the datapad before his friend found it.

"Computer, lights 50 percent."

The lights came up. Harry gasped. Midway between the bed and the door in a pristine room stood a blond statue. His only embellishment, a narrow, black, leather cockring. And the expression on his face, oh, his face - yearning, satisfaction, layers of pleading and anticipatory pleasure. He was a wanton, the embodiment of Harry's deepest desires and as of this moment, his slave. Harry stepped forward. He was fully cognizant of the responsibility resting on his shoulders. He had to make this good for Tom, for his slave. He locked gazes with the blond pilot and pointed mutely downwards. When had his cock become tempered duranium?

Tom dropped to his knees gracefully and approached him. Harry did not utter a single word while he was divested of his pants and boots and his cock was engulfed by a heated, swirling cauldron. Harry looked down at the wavy hair. It was gleaming with good health. He decided to use the springy surface for support as his slave applied more suction. Sharp teeth scraped against the tender underside of the his cock. Harry stifled a groan. It wouldn't do to have his slave think that he was providing superior service.

Willing himself, Harry pushed at Tom's chin. The blonde pilot whimpered with distress, but showed no sign of decreasing suction.

Harry said sternly, "That's enough Tom."

Reluctantly, slowly, all the while emitting tiny moans of despair, Tom grazed his teeth along the entire length of Harry's cock as he removed his mouth. Harry looked down at his newly acquired slave. Tom's expression was handsomely tortured. He seemed to be one of those suffering angels in the centuries old oil paintings hanging in the Basilica on Earth. The pale face glistened with a light sheen of sweat, his countenance caught between supreme pleasure and denied passion. His body trembled slightly in its subservient position and the piece de resistance to this picture, his erect cock was jutting stiffly from his groin.

"I am 'The One,' right, Tom?" Harry demanded confirmation.

"Please, Harry. Let me please you..."

The ensign had a difficult decision to make. If he accepted ownership of Tom, he would have to break him of all the bad habits any previous owner had encouraged. This would truly hurt him more than it hurt his slave, but he would have to do it. Tom might be his friend, but now he was also his property.

"Tom." Harry waited until he had his slave's full attention.

He raised his other hand, the one that was not buried in the blond hair and curved around the pilot's skull. Harry opened his hand and waited until Tom's eyes focused on his palm. He then slapped him hard across the high cheekbones. A red palmprint glowed in relief on the suddenly pale cheek. Harry bit the inside of his lip, hard.

His slave's head swung back into its original position and he looked up at his master adoringly.

"How may I serve you master?"

Harry expelled the breath he'd been holding. He had made the right decision. Pity a course for 'The training and keeping of slaves' had not been on the academy roster.

"I want this to last. I don't want to come for," the ensign paused, "Computer, time?"

"The time is 2245."

Harry continued unperturbed, "Twenty minutes."

The ensign closed his eyes and prayed for strength.

Tom began counting off seconds silently as he returned to his prize.

Harry looked down at his slave. He might not have Tom's width, but he made up for it in length. A length that Tom explored slowly and thoroughly. He nibbled, he licked, he breathed on the object of his worship. Everytime Harry approached the brink, somehow Tom would sense it and slow down. The man formerly known as the ensign was being driven mad by Tom Paris' talented tongue. Harry wondered what insanity had possessed him to endure this torture. Tom was not only a talented pilot but he excelled in other departments also.

Harry threw his head back. His pleasure would not be denied. He felt every molecule of his being straining toward climax. Soon, nothing his slave did would prevent it. Harry felt Tom's lips clamp tightly at the base of his penis. Tom had all of him, his entire length inside his mouth and down his throat. Harry spared one brain cell to be impressed. Every other one was occupied with worthier pursuits. Suddenly the man at his feet increased the suction around his cock. Spiky sharp edges brushed his sensitive cock and he exploded into particles of pleasure exactly twenty minutes later.

Harry pressed on Tom's head and exhaled noisily. "Amazing Tom."

Harry cleared his throat. He could feel the satisfaction radiating off his slave. He pushed himself off Tom and stood unaided. He gestured for the kneeling man to stand. The pilot stood and faced his master. He was still hard. Harry touched the fading palmprint. Then he bent forward a little and unbuttoned the soaked band. His fingers fumbled as he worked on the slippery black cock ring.

"Come for me. Now," Harry encouraged softly as he released the tightness on Tom's penis.

Tom groaned deep in his chest and climaxed. Milky spurts of cum struck Harry's hair, the side of his face and the front of his shirt. Harry straightened and grinned at him.

Tom extended a finger and touched some of the white stuff presently clumped on the front lock of Harry's hair.

"Master, may I?"

"Let's go to bed Tom. And yes, you may."

The two men walked toward the bed. One of Harry's instructions to Tom earlier this evening had entailed some computer reprogramming. Harry tested this now when he gave a command to the computer, "Computer, lights out."

Light from the warped starfield outside the curved porthole illuminated the bed. Tom slid in first and lay on his back. Harry took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor before following Tom. He positioned himself comfortably atop his slave as if he had slept this way every night since they'd met. Tom's arm's came around his torso and cradled him.

Tom continued taking fingertip tastes of his semen still clumped in his master's hair enjoying the contrast of pearl on black.

Harry's eyes drifted shut and he savored the silence. He could get used to this. Having Tom on his knees. His active imagination substituted a variety of poses, a few of which he wondered if they were humanly possible. The ensign chuckled quietly. He'd have to start Tom on gymnastics.

The silence broken now between the two lovers led Tom to ask, "How did you know Harry?"

"Sandrine."

"Sandrine?" Tom thought back. "Oh, yes. Yesterday, when she asked...."

Harry snuffled against Tom chest as he shook his head in negation. "Early this morning."

The ensign was silent again. Tension followed by release was seriously underrated he thought judiciously and burrowed deeper into Tom's arms. Harry was drifting off into a pornographic dream when he felt his companion shift restlessly.

"You were in Sandrine's this morning?" Harry debated whether he should order his slave to be quiet, but then decided he liked this cuddling time with Tom, when they could exchange secrets in soft-voiced whispers. He shifted his face a little so that his answer would not be muffled.

"No, Sandrine was in my quarters this morning."

"How did Sandrine get to your quarters?"

Harry heard the genuine surprise in his slave's voice.

"I don't know Tom," he answered patiently. "But she handed me your cockring and then she was off." Harry deliberately glossed over the highlights of Sandrine's visit. He closed his fist tightly around the crumpled leather then pushed himself off the warm body beneath him.

"What anniversary?"

Tom blushed then offered the answer readily, "Last night was the anniversary of the first time I accepted my submission to another. We had a relationship that lasted through the Academy."

Harry gauged the words and wondered if his slave missed his first master. Another time, he would hear the whole story. It was safe to say that whoever Tom's master had been, he wasn't a part of his life anymore. No-one would have given up such a succulent morsel.

"I am your 'One' Tom," Harry stated implacably.

"Oh Harry, I. I... I've wanted you for so long." Voyager's pilot reached up and smoothed the cheek with the fading palmprint reverently, "But I didn't think you would want me."

"Why ever not?"

Tom shrugged awkwardly and his eyes took on a faraway look. "Nobody I ever wanted, truly wanted me... the real me."

Harry's heart ached for Tom. He vowed never for one instant to let Tom feel unwanted or unloved.

"I want you," Harry declared fiercely. "I've always wanted you, from the minute you rescued me in DS9."

"Oh Harry. Please, I want you so much, Master."

Harry felt the rigid proof of Tom's desire. "Greedy slave," he said affectionately.

Tom froze, "Uh Harry, I wasn't...?"

Voyager's Ops officer soothed firmly. "You are mine. You accepted me tonight when you stood in a clean room waiting for me wearing nothing but that cockring.

Harry felt the shiver that rippled through the body beneath him.

"Yours Harry?"

"Yes, all mine."

Harry licked the tiny brown nipple and teased it to a firm peak.

"Forever?"

He traced the curve of a rib with soft kisses then murmured affectionately. "Sadly, your training has been neglected. It'll take longer than my lifetime to make you into the perfect slave for me."

Tom moaned softly and Harry began to worry the other nipple to hardness. He caressed the slender body beneath him, first kissing then licking every inch he could reach. Finally, Harry moved off his human bedpillow and urged Tom over onto his stomach. Now he had the pilot's smooth back to play with. The ensign nibbled along the backbone, lovingly tracing each bony bump along the way to the tight butt.

Tom wiggled and tried to get him to move faster. The ensign smacked him once sharply to settle him a little. The soft, pleading whimpers coming from the blond head buried in the Starfleet issue double bed satisfied Harry that his slave was repentant.

"Insatiable tease."

Harry nipped the fleshiest part of his lover's buttocks then lifted his head from this delightful task. He found the lube his slave had thoughtfully left on the bedside table and returned to his task. Harry prepared Tom, feeling his eagerness as he smoothed the cool gel inside the crinkled opening. Tom pumped back on his finger. Harry let that tiny liberty pass by. He adored this abandoned man. A firm touch and his slave moved onto all fours.

In moments Harry positioned himself at the small opening. He pushed inward, just until the crown of his penis was past the tough ring of muscle. Tom surged back onto him with a joyful shout. Harry sank deeply into the snug channel. He did not have to do much. His lover, impaled on his cock set the tempo, riding the intruder at a wicked pace. Harry hung onto Tom's hips and enjoyed the ride. He enjoyed the friction and his own slow buildup as Tom worked himself back and forth.

Finally the black haired man reached around and grasped the engorged cock of his partner. Tom moved faster and suddenly Harry felt him clench down on his cock buried deep inside his slave. Tom climaxed and Harry followed a second later.

The pilot's knees gave out and he collapsed onto the bed. Harry, still joined, went down with him. He tucked his face into the hollow between Tom's shoulder blades and fell asleep immediately.

******

Epilogue A subtle shift in the air awakened Tom sometime later. Harry was still asleep. Neither had changed position. His master was still buried balls deep in him. A gentle snore tickled the fine hairs on his back.

He blinked and saw the figure standing a few feet away. She was surveying the couple on the bed. Sandrine smiled indulgently and closed the distance between them. Tom worked one hand out from underneath his body. She pressed the small object into his palm before leaving.

Tom whispered his thanks and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, his vision was blurred with unshed tears. He felt the metallic edges of the doctor's mobile holoemitter pressing into his palm. His stratagem had worked. Tom bent his arm and crooked it above his head. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

THE END

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