a dream of the minotaur

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, Paramount does. I don't own this universe, Paramount does. I'm not making any money off this story, it's only for fan amusement. If anyone wanted to sue me, they'd get a few bucks and good sized collection of action figures, but that's about all.

Rating: This fanfic contains scenes of semi-graphic male/male sex. If you don't the idea of that, go away. If you do, read on McDuff.

Distribution: PKSP, BLTs, any archive, print the thing out and use it for wall paper for all I care, just leave my byline and the disclaimer. This work of fiction may not be published or distributed in any fanzine, electronic forum, or other medium for which money is charged.

Acknowledgments: My roomie Jay for providing the chemical stimulus, Anne in Chicago for hosting the party, Beth and Saundra for showing me how it should be done, and GW & RDM for breathing life into a fiction.

Spoiler Warning: Slight spoilers for 'Non Sequiter' and 'The Chute'.

Personal Note: This is my first published slash. I've started plenty of others, but this is the first one I've finished. Now I appreciate all the wonderful people who have provided me with so many hours of entertainment (and the fodder for my addiction), it's not as easy as it looks.

Read, enjoy, pass along if you think it's worth it. E-mail me with comments, please, let me know if this was worth the effort.

==> minotaur@squidge.org <==

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Crossed Signals

a dream of the minotaur

Lt. Gregor Ayala looked askance at Neelix's idea of an omelette and decided to try his luck with the fruit salad instead. The "coffee" he already knew to be undrinkable, but he needed the caffeine after yet another sleepless night. The mess was fairly crowded at this hour, just before the start of Alpha shift, there were only a few empty places. He carried his tray toward one of them.

"Morning, Ensign Kim. Is this seat taken?"

Harry Kim looked up from the food he was trying to identify and shook his head. "Help yourself," he said.

Ayala set his tray down and slid into the seat. He hadn't had much interaction with Kim, but on a ship this size everyone pretty much knew everyone else. After the first bite of 'fruit' he wondered if he wouldn't have been better off with the 'omelette'.

"What was this when it was alive?" he wondered out loud.

"Neelix says it's very nutritious, just full of vitamins." Kim grinned at him.

"Yeah, well, my Mom used to say the same thing about Brussel sprouts. At least they didn't crawl around the plate."

Harry returned to his examination of his own food, poking at it listlessly, trying to find an arrangement that might make it marginally more palatable.

"So where's Paris this morning?"

The question brought Harry's head up with a jerk. "What do you mean?"

"You usually sit with him."

"Oh." Harry shrugged. "Around. Somewhere."

"And you usually look a little happier when you do."

Harry's eyes went wide. Ayala was looking at him seriously, not condescendingly or with pity. "What do you..." Harry stammered.

Ayala's turn to shrug. "Just commenting. You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"Am I that obvious?" Harry blushed furiously.

"Naw. Just takes one to know one."

Harry felt a flash of jealousy, hot and sudden. "You mean you..and Tom?"

Ayala looked shocked. He laughed slightly, bitterly. "Tom Paris? Not likely. No, it's Chakotay I'm pining for."

Harry watched Ayala with a newfound understanding. He'd always thought the tall dark Maquis was just another of Chakotay's ragtag band, never considered there might be more to him. "It's the pits, isn't it? Being in love with some guy who hasn't got a clue."

Ayala smiled slightly. "Yeah." He was quiet for a time, playing with his meal. "When did you know?"

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ayala it was none of his business, then paused. Being able to talk to someone about the things he'd been bottling up for so long might actually be good for him. "That I loved him? About two years ago, I guess. Right after I had that encounter with the alternate time line. Seeing Libby, seeing how things might have gone with her, then coming back to Tom made me realize just how much he meant to me." He pushed the food around his plate some more, then continued. "He's my best friend, the best friend I've ever had, and I don't want to mess that up. How about you and Chakotay?"

"Oh, about five minutes after I joined his Maquis cell. I was all of 22, still a callow youth, and he was so centered, so strong. He was everything I'd ever dreamed about in a lover, plus a tattoo, and I fell for him." He smiled crookedly, and shrugged one shoulder. "The rest is history."

Harry snorted. "Yeah. History." They sat in companionable silence, each regretting their breakfast choices and thinking the other had made the better decision.

"Tom.."

"Chakotay.." They spoke simultaneously. Each paused, waving the other to go first, laughing.

Ayala looked up from his plate slowly, his eyes brightening suspiciously. "Ensign Kim," he said. "I've just had a really bad idea."

Harry blinked in confusion. "If it's so bad, why mention it," he said. Ayala grinned an evil grin at him, and Harry was surprised to find that he recognized that grin. It was amazingly similar to the grin Tom would give him just before proposing some outlandish plan, like reversing the gravity grid in the turbolifts, or programming chocolate mousse into the pool of Neelix's holo- resort. He also found that he was responding in a similar way. Whatever it was that Ayala was about to suggest, no matter how outrageous it sounded, Harry would end up going along with it. "So just what is this idea?"

"Chakotay and Paris take us for granted, don't they?" Ayala asked. Harry nodded, reluctantly agreeing. "And they think this because we're always around, always available, always at their beck and call, right?" Harry nodded again. He had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was heading. "So maybe, just maybe they'd notice it if we *weren't* there the next time they turn around?"

"Where else would we be?" Harry asked in a reasonable tone. "Voyager isn't all that big a ship, and it's not like we can ask for a transfer off."

"So maybe not some*where* else, but with some*one* else..."

"And I take it you have a suggestion in mind as to who these someone elses might be?"

Ayala spread his hands, gesturing to themselves. "Here we are. We share a problem. Perhaps we also share a solution?" He waited a moment for Harry's response. "What do you think?"

Harry leaned back into his chair, covering his eyes with one hand and shaking his head. He let out a deep sigh. "I think you're right. This IS a really bad idea. And..." he paused for a long moment.

"And, Ensign Kim?"

"And I think that if we're going to make it work, you'd better start calling me 'Harry'"

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As usual, Harry spent a few extra minutes on the change of shift report with his relief so that he could catch the lift with Tom. This time, though, it wasn't so he could angle a dinner invitation or propose a game of cards. He had convinced Gregor that 'if t'were done, when t'is done, t'were best done quickly'. So they were starting on their respective campaigns this very evening. As the lift started, Harry began just as he would have on any other day.

"Got plans for later, Tom?" he asked.

"Not really. I was thinking about taking a swim, if Neelix has the resort program up and running again. Want to join me? The Delaney sisters are sure to be there, and you know how great they look in bikinis."

"Can't tonight."

"Don't tell me you've got more work? All work and no play makes Harry a very dull boy. Tell B'Elanna she'll have to fix whatever it is without you and come live a little." Tom had that 'C'mon, Harry, it'll be fun' tone in his voice that was nearly impossible for Harry to resist. He took a deep breath and schooled himself to turn down the chance to watch Tom in a swimsuit. He told himself the sacrifice would be worth it, later.

"No, it's not work. I have dinner plans."

"Dinner plans? You mean a date?" The turbolift came to a halt, and they headed down the corridor towards their quarters. "You've got a date?"

"Well, yeah. You don't have to make it sound like it's such a surprise."

"C'mon, Harry, it's been a while. So who's it with? Carter the bombshell from Astrometrics? Henderson from Hydroponics?"

"It's Ayala, actually." Harry heard Tom's sharp intake of breath.

"Gregor Ayala?"

"You're sounding surprised again, Tom."

"Well, I am, a little. I mean, he's not really your type, is he?" Tom looked at Harry to see if he was serious.

"How would you know what my type is, Tom? I've always thought he was good looking."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if you like them tall, dark, and silent. I mean, I've never heard him say a word." They had come to a halt in front of Harry's door.

"Well, Tom, you talk enough for any three people. Maybe I want to spend some time with someone who'll let me get a word in edgewise for a change." Harry punched his code into the door and stepped through before Tom had time to close his mouth, which had fallen open. "Have fun at the resort. I'll see you in the morning." The expression on Tom's face as the door slid shut was almost enough to make up for missing seeing him in that swimsuit. Almost.

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In his own quarters, Ayala paced. The original idea had been his, but Harry had expanded on it in ways he hadn't thought of. He knew Harry would easily be able to start on his end, but Chakotay and Ayala didn't have the same regularity to their friendship that Harry had with Tom. It might be days until Chakotay called for him. Unless he made the first move in the new game.

"Ayala to Commander Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"I'd like to reschedule my morning shift tomorrow, if I may, sir."

"I have no objection, if Tuvok doesn't. Is there a problem?"

"No, sir. It's just that I have, well, personal plans this evening, and if they should run late..." He forced himself to sound sheepish and hopeful. Chakotay's answering chuckle, unfortunately, didn't sound forced at all.

"I see. Well, Lt., if you're up to asking the Security Chief for a morning off because you have a hot date, go right ahead. I doubt you'll get much sympathy, though. Chakotay out."

'Damn' he thought. 'What's it going to take to get under that skin of his?' At the thought of the big Indian's skin, Ayala let himself slip into a daydream. He shook himself back to reality a moment later, he didn't want to stand Harry up, even if it wasn't really a date. If he hurried he could make a stop at the Hydroponics Bay on the way.

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Ayala buzzed at Harry's door only a few minutes late, despite his detour. When Harry opened it, he found himself faced with a small bouquet of flowers. At least he hoped it was a bouquet and not some alien monster about to attack. "Gregor?" he asked hopefully. Ayala stepped into view, a sardonic half-smile on his lips. He presented the whatever it was to Harry like some great trophy.

"Thank you. I think. C'mon in." Once inside Harry looked around for something to put the present in, but wasn't sure if he was looking for a vase or a cage. "What is it?"

"What Neelix served us for breakfast this morning, before he went to work on them. They're the closest things to flowers I could find."

"Oh. Well, did they work?" Harry asked him.

"Like a charm. At least a dozen people asked me what they were, and who they were for, including Nicoletti. By midnight half the ship will know that I brought you flowers on our first date." He looked around the quarters. They were almost painfully neat, without even the clutter a seasoned Starfleet officer would take with him from posting to posting. The only personal touches were the music stand, the clarinet, a stack of sheet music, and a single painting. Ayala stepped forward to get a closer look at the canvas. It seemed to be original, or at least not a print. The brush strokes stood out in sharp relief, small and large swirling together. At first he couldn't make it out, then suddenly it clicked into focus. The painting depicted a man's face, upraised, his eyes wide in wonder or perhaps terror. He considered it for a moment.

"I like it. It makes me uncomfortable, but I like it. It's certainly not what I expected you to have hanging, though," he said.

"Oh?" Harry handed him a glass of wine. Ayala looked at it in surprise, he hadn't anticipated Harry using up precious replicator credits when he'd suggested their first 'date' be dinner in his quarters. He looked to Harry, raising one eyebrow to ask, 'Are you sure?' and got a 'What the hell' shrug in reply.

"No. I had you pegged for something more contemplative. N'Rok of Vulcan, maybe, or HarV'hoth of Marpan. Either that or all Old Earth stuff, you know, high historical significance and low aesthetic value. Guess I was wrong."

"Well, guess I was wrong, too. I didn't think you be the kind of guy who would know the difference between N'Rok and HarV'hoth. What do you see in it?"

Ayala gazed a little longer, sipping his wine. "I see fear. And longing. He's reaching out for something, not quite sure if having it is worse than not having it. I see...whatever it is that he's reaching for is as close as it will ever get, and if he doesn't grab it now, he'll lose the chance forever. He knows that either way, take it or don't, he'll regret it." Ayala shook himself back to the present. "Like I said, it makes me uncomfortable, but I like it. Who's the artist?"

"I am. I did it right after Akriteria. That's when Tom seemed most out of my reach, even when he was by my side. Tom hates it. He says it's depressing. He's right, it is depressing. But I can't bring myself to get rid of it." He turned away from the painting, looking out into the passing starfield. Ayala laid a companionable hand on his shoulder, sighing in understanding.

"Men," Ayala said. "Can't live with them, can't fit them down the disposer."

"Sure you can. You just have to cut them up really small," Harry replied. Ayala laughed, a single sound more like a bark than a laugh. "You hungry?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"I didn't really eat any of that breakfast either. What shall we have?" He gestured toward the replicator.

"Anything that doesn't try to crawl off the plate before I can eat it."

"What, you mean no gahkh?" Harry grinned. Ayala glowered back.

"Something normal," he said. "And you have to let me charge it against my rations, you got the wine after all." He moved toward the unit and thought for a moment. "How about a nice simple cassolet? With Andorian blue beans and some spicy Basque sausage? Sound good?"

"I don't know, after Neelix's last attempt..." Harry sounded doubtful.

"I'm a much better cook than Neelix, I promise you."

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Later they sat on the couch, watching the stars stream past and sipping from the second bottle of wine that Harry had insisted on replicating.

"You were right. You are a much better cook than Neelix. Where did you learn that dish?" Harry asked.

"My mom. She and my Dad were always so busy with colony business that my brother and I had to learn to take care of ourselves very young. It really should be made with fresh ingredients, but I think the replicator got it pretty close."

"So you grew up on a colony planet?"

"Yeah. My parents were in the first landing party on Rho Tauri V."

"Rho Tauri V? But isn't that the planet where..." Harry stopped. He knew what the answer to his question would be, and suddenly he didn't want to hear it.

"Where the Cardassians established the first labor camp after the Federation abandoned the DMZ?" Ayala's voice was thick with old bitterness and pain, but his face stayed blank, controlled. "Where they shipped all the 'incorrigibles' from their own prisons to strip mine the whole planet? Where they didn't bother to even tell the colonists who'd stayed what they were going to do until the slag bombs started falling? Yep, that's the planet."

"Oh." Harry was silent. Ayala took a deep draft of his wine. Harry tried to think of something to say, to re-establish the easy comradery they had shared over dinner. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. He knew it wasn't enough, but it was all he could think of.

"You're sorry? You're sorry, Starfleet? That's what the Federation rep said, when he told us he'd given the planet up to the Cardies. When he told us that all we'd worked for, all we'd built, had been stolen from us by the blessed and all knowing Federation Council. For our own good, they said. FOR OUR OWN DAMMED GOOD!" Ayala had turned to look directly at Harry now. His voice was passionate, his eyes bright and hot with rage, but the rest of his face was still tightly held. That scared Harry more than the diatribe. That Gregor could keep his face so still, while underneath such strong feelings ran made Harry wonder what else lay hidden in him. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the anger seemed to drain out of his eyes, leaving them simply tired, and sad. He reached out and touched Harry gently on the arm.

"Sorry, Harry. That wasn't meant for you. It's an old grievance, old and deep."

"That's ok. I'd like to hear more about your family, though. Really."

"You sure? It's pretty ugly in spots."

"I'm sure." And he was sure. Harry wanted to know what drove him to keep such a tight reign on himself.

"Ok. Just remember, you asked for it. So don't come complaining to me when you die of boredom."

"Don't worry. We're in my quarters after all. If you bore me I can toss you out."

"My family is old Starfleet, even older than Paris'. My parents met on assignment. They served together, and apart, and planned to grow old in the service. But when my Mom got pregnant, they decided they didn't want to raise children on a ship, like they had been. So they resigned, and joined the Rho Tauri colony expedition. I was the first child born after landing. So I got named after the Captain of the transport ship. Gregor Petrovitch Ayala. My brother is only 10 minutes younger, he got stuck with names from both my grandfathers. Horatio Jesus Ayala."

"You have a twin? I was an only child, but I always dreamed about having a twin brother. Someone to play with, who'd understand me, who'd be a part of me."

"It's like that at the best of times. Jesus and I, sometimes we were like two halves of one person, in other things we were total opposites. But every night I fell asleep listening to him breathing on the other side of the room. I was older, but he was bolder, more adventurous. He's the one who would get us in trouble. He could climb the highest, run the fastest. He was my Dad's favorite, I was Mom's. Jesus would go out into the fields with Dad, watching over the planting and laying out the new crops. I would go with Mom to the Town Hall and help her draw up the plans of where the new irrigation systems would go, and how we would house the next wave of colonists. Afternoons we would roam the woods together, studying our new planet, making it ours. We were 17 when the directive came from the Federation Council. Evacuate, it said. Rho Tauri now belonged to the Cardassians, it said. I didn't believe it, and I wasn't the only one. The whole colony was split, even my family was split. Mother still believed in the Federation, she was ready to leave. Oh, she wasn't happy about it, but she was ready to just give up and go. Not my Dad. He wanted to stay on, to fight for what he had built with his own hands." Ayala laughed bitterly. "Jesus agreed with Mom, and I with Dad. I think we both wanted to impress the parent we'd felt least close to. But that was only part of it, I really did agree with my father. We'd put so much into the colony, so much sweat, so much love. It was our home, and I wasn't about to let a bunch of bloodless diplomats trade it away without a fight."

Harry was amazed at how calm Gregor still appeared. The events must have been wrenching, horribly painful, yet here he was relating them as though they had happened to someone else. Silently he reached out and laid his hand on the other man's arm, squeezing gently in compassion. Gregor continued his story in the same flat voice, apparently not noticing the touch. His eyes were vacant, focused on memory.

"About half the colony obeyed the Federation directive, including Mom and Jesus. Dad and I watched them board the transport shuttle, and we knew we might never see them again. But we believed in what we were doing, believed that we could make a difference. I was chosen to go with the party we sent out to the other planets in the DMZ, trying to organize the resistance. That's why I wasn't there when the slag bombs fell. That's why I wasn't there when the Cardassians destroyed my home and killed my father, and the Federation let them." Ayala stopped. He sat perfectly still, staring out into someplace that Harry couldn't follow. He was silent for so long Harry began to worry, then sighed deeply and seemed to return to the present with a slight shake of his head.

"Told you it wasn't very pretty." He turned to look at Harry and gave him another sardonic half-smile. "Of course I joined the Maquis. A couple of years later I got assigned to Chakotay's group. He was so centered, so whole, so everything I wasn't, that naturally I fell in love with him at first sight." He shrugged. "But he was my group leader, and then there was Seska. And now we're stuck in the Delta Quadrant and he can't seem to see past the Captain." He shrugged again.

"What about your brother?" Harry asked.

"Probably joined Starfleet." He laughed bitterly, reaching out to touch Harry's uniform. "He's probably a Lt. somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant, wearing this uniform with pride, while I'm stuck here wearing it with disgust."

"Disgust? But I thought..I mean you seem to fit in, you're second only to Tuvok in Security, and you follow the Captain willingly enough."

"Harry, I've come to respect Janeway, but Chakotay is my leader. He follows her, and I follow him. But I can never forget, not for one second, what this uniform really means."

Harry sat for a moment, turning Gregor's words over in his head. He felt somehow as though he'd been given a gift. Some fragile thing of spun glass, all sharp points and deceptive reflections. Somewhere in it's depths, he knew, was Gregor's true face. The face that he found he wanted to see. He cradled this to his heart, wary of it's barbs but protective of it's delicacy. He decided that he needed to return the trust, to give to this man in the measure he had received. To tell him something he'd never even told Tom.

"I was an only child," he started. "A late child when my parents thought they could never have children. They loved me, gave me everything. They told me time and time again of all the sacrifices they made so that I could have the best of everything. The best schooling, the best computer, the best toys. I always wondered what I'd done to deserve it all, when what I really wanted was only their love. I spent all my time studying, trying to show that I was worthy of them, that their sacrifices hadn't been in vain. I was always first in my class, but I never felt I fit in, never believed that I belonged. I've always been an outsider, watching the other kids playing while I studied harder and harder. Even when I got to the Academy, I didn't belong. I pretended that I did, but I knew that sooner or later someone would notice that I was a fraud, that I didn't' really belong there. For four years I got up and told myself that 'today would be the day I was found out' the day they all realized that I didn't deserve to be there. But it never came. I graduated 4th in my class, and I knew my parents would be devastated." Harry stopped. The next thing he said would be the hardest thing he'd ever said. He'd never said it before, never spoken the words out loud. He took a deep breath, tried to calm his heart. Ayala was watching him, not judging, just waiting for him to continue. "I..." His throat seemed to close up around the words. "I tried to kill myself." There, it was out. He searched Gregor's eyes for pity or disgust, and found only attention. He wiped his palms on his pant legs, surprised to find them damp. Gregor still hadn't moved. Harry continued, he knew if he stopped for too long he'd never finish. "I stole a hypospray from the Infirmary and went out into the gardens, to find someplace where nobody would find me. I didn't want to upset anyone, I just wanted to disappear, to never have been so no one would ever know how much of a fraud I'd been all along. There's a copse of willow trees on the campus where I knew nobody would go until the next class came in, at the least. I sat down under them and set the hypo. I had it pressed against my neck, my finger on the trigger, when I saw him. Boothby, the gardener. He was standing just inside the copse, watching me. His eyes were so sad, so full of disappointment, but he wasn't moving, wasn't trying to stop me. We stared at each other, I don't know how long. I knew that if I hit the trigger he couldn't, wouldn't stop me. Finally I put the hypo down and left. I couldn't do it in front of him, couldn't let him see me fail." Harry stopped. His heart was pounding and he could feel the sweat down his back. His hands trembled and he didn't' dare look up to meet Gregor's gaze.

Gregor was frozen. He had never witnessed anything like this. It was as if Harry Kim, the Academy poster boy, the perfect Ensign, had taken a knife and opened his belly to show Gregor his insides. Like guts, it was a stinking coil, steaming with the heat of pain and fear, pulsing with the beat of Harry's heart. He reached out and lifted Harry's chin.

Harry saw only compassion in Gregor's eyes. No rejection, just a calm acceptance. He felt a wave of relief so intense he almost passed out. He had said the unsayable, spoken the unspeakable, and the world hadn't collapsed. He raised his depleted wineglass, waiting until Gregor did also.

"To old wounds," he toasted.

"Old wounds," Gregor answered.

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They had discussed the idea of Gregor spending the night on Harry's couch so that he could be seen to leave the cabin in the morning, but decided that would be rushing it a little, especially given the suddenness of their 'date'. So at 0230, an hour late enough to draw comment, they stood just inside the door to the corridor.

"Harry, thank you for an...interesting evening," Gregor said. Harry blushed. If this had been a real 'first date' he would be dying of embarrassment at this point.

"Do you think tomorrow is too soon for the next step?" he asked.

"Let's see what kind of reaction we get to tonight before we set our timetable."

"Good idea." A strained silence fell. After what had passed between them this evening, a parting handshake seemed too little, and neither was sure enough to initiate a hug.

"I suppose..." Gregor began.

"I guess..." Harry said at the same time. They both stopped, waiting for the other to go first.

"Do you think a goodnight kiss would be a good idea? So we could say, truthfully, that we had?" Harry asked.

"To lend verisimilitude to an otherwise unconvincing narrative?" Gregor replied, cocking an eyebrow. 'See,' that eyebrow seemed to say, 'you're not the only one who can quote the classics.' Their bodies came together, awkwardly at first, arms and legs not sure how they would arrange themselves.

Harry looked up at Gregor, realizing for the first time just how tall he was, just how blue his eyes were. Gregor was gazing down into his face, one dark lock of hair falling across his brow. 'Unh-oh,' Harry thought. 'This could be trouble.'

Gregor was contemplating the honey-golden tone of Harry's skin, comparing it to the richer color of Chakotay's, and finding that it compared quite favorably. His attention moved to Harry's lips, slightly parted in anticipation. 'This won't be too difficult' he thought. Then he leaned down.

The kiss began gently, almost chastely. Then one opened his mouth, the other followed, and their tongues met. A spark, some indefinable energy leapt between them. They tasted one another, explored each other's depths, tongues swirling and caressing. Gregor's hands began to run over Harry's back. Harry's tangled in Gregor's hair pulling his head down.

Gregor broke away first. His breath came fast and shallow, he could feel his lips beginning to swell. He swallowed hard and tried to think clearly, but the only word that came to mind was 'More.'

Harry's eyes had narrowed, he could feel the blood rushing though his body. His heart was pounding. "Oh," he said. "Do that again...." Gregor pulled him closer, lifting him off his feet as their lips met a second time. His tongue flowed into Harry's mouth, taking charge, drawing his breath out in a long sigh. Harry melted into him, relishing the lean strength beneath his hands. He could feel Gregor's erection pressing into his leg, and his own was surely about to poke a hole in the larger man's flat stomach.

They didn't make it to the bed the first time. They didn't even make it to the couch. Right there in front of the door they stripped one another, clothes flung helter skelter across the room. They reveled in each other's bodies, explored planes and angles freed from staid coverings. Gregor bore Harry down, pressed him into the carpet. Harry's legs wrapped around him, capturing him, binding him. Their erections straining against each other, mouths pressed together. They came moments apart, their mingled fluid gluing their chests together.

"More" Gregor said.

"Again" Harry replied, as Gregor lifted him up and carried him into the bedroom. There he was laid down on the bed as Gregor slowly explored his body, caressing with tongue and hands, nibbling gently, making him moan and thrash with need.

"Gregor...please..." he cried out as his dick was engulfed. Hot suction drove him nearly to the edge. Long lean fingers, liberally coated with lubricant, demanded entry into him. He spread his legs wide as the fire mounted his spine. Then he was rolled over and Gregor was on top of him, covering him, pressing him down into the mattress. He felt the blunt pressure of Gregor's cock, warm breath on his ear.

"Harry...are you ready?"

"Oh yes...I want you inside me..." he could barely speak. Then Gregor was inside him. He was both surrounded and surrounding, taker and taken. 'Here,' he thought. 'Here I belong,' then Gregor began to move and all rational thought fled.

Gregor clasped Harry close to him, legs entwined, holding him tight as his dick was held tight. 'Here,' he thought. 'Here is my center,' then began to move.

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End Part One

Go on to part two?