Title: The Bet
Author: Shayney
Email: ShayneyL@aol.com
Size: 17K
Rating: NC-17
Codes: P/K
Summary: The obligatory brothel story.

No spoilers. Contains male/male sex - adults only!

Characters and situations owned by Paramount/Viacom. Used without
permission. No copyright infringement intended.

                                   The Bet

                                 by Shayney

        Cadet Harry Kim pressed himself to the darkened window, gazing in
wonderment at the multicolored lights of the city outside. They were
actually here. Here on Wrigley's Pleasure Planet. He couldn't believe it.
His first deep-space training cruise, and this was one of the stops!

        Most of the cadets were up on the USS Magsaysay, orbiting overhead.
But Harry and his roommate McAllister had been chosen as honor guards, and
got to come down with Admiral Fonseca to the Starfleet base on the planet
surface. Their duties were done for the evening, and they were now in their
assigned room in BOQ.

        Harry turned from the window, rubbing his hands with anticipation.
"Well?" he asked McAllister.

        McAllister didn't look up from his padd. "Well what?"

        "What are we going to do tonight?" Harry said impatiently.

        "Study, like we always do."

        Harry gaped. "McAllister, you can't be serious! We're on Wrigley's
Pleasure Planet! You're not going to toad away on Astronavigation when we're
on a planet famous throughout the quadrant for its...entertainments."

        "Come on, Kim. It's past curfew. We can't leave here."

        Well, one of the things he liked about McAllister was that he was
the only cadet at Starfleet Academy who was even more of a nerd than Harry.
But this was a bit much. "I don't care! This is a once in a lifetime
chance."

        "And if you get caught, ol' Newcomb-Till-They-Glow will give you so
many demerits we'll all be scrubbing latrines for weeks."

        Commander Newcomb was the Commandant of Cadets for this training
mission. The very strict, by-the-book Commandant of Cadets. Harry hesitated.
He might be willing to risk the demerits personally, but they would also
count toward his whole squadron's total.

        "Sit down, Kim," McAllister said. "You aren't going anywhere. They
picked us for honor guard because they knew we wouldn't do anything dumb.
You're the only cadet at Starfleet Academy who's even more of a nerd than I
am."

        What?! Stung, Harry dug in his heels. "Stay here and study if you
want. I'm going out to find some action."

        "Sure you are."

        Annoyed, Harry dug his dressy civilian clothes out of his duffle,
then began stripping off his uniform. "Since you're at the computer, Mac,
check the directory for me and find a good brothel near here," he said
casually, as if he did this every day.

        McAllister wasn't fooled. "You're bluffing."

        Harry tucked his shirt of pleated cream silk into his grey trousers.
"Want to bet?"

        "You're on. Fifty credits says the only action you get tonight is
with Mr. Right...Hand."

        "Fine. Fifty credits says you're wrong. Now give me that address."

                                 # # # # # #

        Half an hour later, Harry stood in the street outside the Golden
Peacock Lounge, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this. Cold fog
swirled around him. He wished he were safely back at BOQ, studying
Astronavigation with McAllister. If his parents ever found out....

        He almost turned around and went back, but the thought of
McAllister's kindly superiority was too much. Besides, he'd come this far.
Might as well go inside and look around.

        No one gave him a second glance as he went in. It looked like the
lobby of a posh hotel. Marble, polished wood, elegant furniture. Even a bar
and a front desk. But it was a good deal more crowded than the average hotel
lobby. People sat in small groups or alone, while others drifted aimlessly.
If he didn't know better, he'd think it was a faculty cocktail party.

        Harry struck what he hoped was an insouciant pose against the back
wall, trying to figure out how things worked in this place. He glanced
toward the front desk, wondering if he should just ask...then froze. It was
Commander Newcomb!

        Panicked, Harry skittered down a nearby hallway. Newcomb was
speaking with the person at the desk. Then she turned and began walking in
Harry's direction.

        Harry looked frantically for an escape. The hallway was lined with
doors. Each had a number and a small light beside it. He knew a lit light
meant the room was occupied, so he ran to nearest unlit door. It was
unlocked, and he hurried in and shut the door behind him.

        Not a moment too soon. He heard footsteps going past, a door down
the hall opening, then Newcomb's voice saying warmly, "Hello, sweetheart..."
Well, at least the commander wasn't looking for Harry. Just looking for some
action herself, it seemed.

        He breathed a long sigh of relief. He'd had enough action for
tonight. He'd go back, pay up the fifty credits, let McAllister gloat, and
be grateful that - yikes!

        Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, gasping in shock, as a pair of
warm, strong hands squeezed his buttocks. He spun around. The room was
occupied after all. It was so dimly lit he hadn't noticed before.

        "You're early. Good." The room's occupant was a tall man in typical
spacer's clothes. He was a little rough-looking and disheveled, and Harry
was suddenly as nervous as he was embarrassed. He was about to apologize for
the intrusion and beat a hasty retreat, when the man dialed up the lights -
and Harry found himself the recipient of the most amazing smile he'd ever
seen. He forgot what he was going to say, and just stared.

        The man was younger than he'd first appeared. It was a cold autumn
night on this planet, but this man was like a summer day on Earth. Skin like
peaches and cream, hair the golden amber of ripe wheat, eyes as blue as a
June sky. Bright, so very bright, with a smile as warm as summer sunshine.

        The man was staring at Harry, too. "Well," he said. He ran a hand
through Harry's hair, then caressed his face. "You must be Dan. Tell Orla
I'm very pleased with her choice. The quality of the merchandise is
definitely improving around here."

        Uh-oh. He thought that Harry was -

        "You certainly are a beauty, aren't you?"

        Harry looked around the room, then realized the man was talking to
him. No, scratch that, the man was laughing at him.

        "Dan," he said to Harry. "How long have you been working here?"

        "Sir - "

        "My name is Tom," the man said, and then pulled Harry close and
tried to kiss him.

        Harry quickly turned his face away. "Sir - "

        "I told you, call me Tom." Unable to capture Harry's lips, he was
nibbling at Harry's ear and jawline. "Oh, I love it when they play hard to
get."

        "Tom, I'm not - " Harry broke off as Tom grabbed him by the hair,
forced his head back, and kissed him. Passionately. Oh, gods. He tasted like
summer, too, sweet and rich and bright. Harry was stunned for a moment, then
responded eagerly. He couldn't help it. He'd only ever dreamed of being
kissed this way. No, even in his wildest dreams, it had never been this
good.

        It wasn't until he felt warm fingers against the bare skin of his
back that he realized that his shirt had somehow been removed. This was
getting out of hand, fast. But Harry didn't care any more. He'd come here
looking for some action. It appeared he'd found some. He began tugging at
the fastenings of Tom's clothes.

        The bed was huge and low, piled with velvet and satin. Lying on it,
naked, with the most beautiful man in the universe, Harry was in heaven. He
ran his hands over Tom's body, so hot and hard against his, panting with
increasing urgency. When Tom pulled away, then pushed him into a prone
position and held him there, he didn't protest.

        Warm lips brushed the nape of Harry's neck, then trailed moist
kisses across his shoulders. He felt Tom's rough stubble scrape across his
back, and shivered. A soft kiss landed on the small of his back, then Tom
started nibbling along his ribs. He squirmed, ticklish.

        "Stop that," Tom admonished, his breath hot against Harry's skin.

        Harry squirmed some more, and Tom said, "I said stop that." He
didn't sound angry, but suddenly Harry felt a sharp pain on his left
buttock. He yelped. Tom had bitten him!

        Harry was more surprised than hurt. In fact, he sort of wished Tom
would bite him again. But Tom didn't, instead soothing the area with his
lips and tongue. Which was very nice, too. Harry moaned, clutching at the
bedclothes.

        Then the door opened, abruptly shattering his sensual rapture.
Startled, Harry and Tom jerked apart. A dark-haired young man stood in the
doorway, looking as startled as they were.

        He hesitated for a moment, then said, "I gather you do not require
my services after all, Mr. Paris?"

        Tom blinked, then answered, "That's right. Sorry. But please tell
Orla to charge the usual fee to my account."

        "Very good, sir." The young man left, closing the door behind him.

        Tom got up and engaged the lock. Harry sat miserably on the edge of
the bed, feeling almost physically ill with anxiety and frustrated arousal.
Part of him wanted to grab his clothes and run back to BOQ, part of him
wanted to beg Tom to please, please, continue where they'd left off.

        Tom turned to face Harry. "That was Dan, wasn't it?" His voice was
quiet, but from the set of his jaw, he was angry.

        "I guess so," Harry answered.

        "So who the hell are you?"

        "Harry."

        "You're not an employee here, are you?"

        Harry shook his head. "I came into this room by accident. I'm
sorry."

        Tom sat down beside Harry on the bed. He put his face in his hands.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, voice muffled.

        "At first I didn't have a chance, and then...." He dropped his gaze,
unable to look at Tom any more. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

        Tom sighed. He put a hand under Harry's chin, tilting his face up to
look him in the eye. At least he didn't seem angry any more. "How old are
you, Harry?"

        "Old enough to be here!" Harry replied hotly.

        Tom smiled. "Is this your first time?"

        Harry thought about lying, but he knew he was no good at it. He
nodded reluctantly.

        Tom considered him for a long moment. "It's all right." His hand
dropped to Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have been so rough if
I'd known -"

        "You weren't rough!" Harry cried. He put his hand over Tom's.
"Please, Tom...."

        "I take it you want to continue?"

        Harry nodded, not trusting his voice. Tom grinned. "Well," he said.
"You're better looking than Dan, so I guess I can't complain." He took Harry
into his arms, and they lay back on the bed. Harry shut his eyes,
luxuriating in the feel of Tom's downy peach skin against his own, content,
for the moment. Tom's kisses and caresses were very, very gentle now, but
still very exciting, and before long, Harry was whimpering and trying to
thrust against Tom.

        "Shhh, just relax," Tom whispered, then slid down to take Harry in
his mouth. Harry gasped at the sheer sensation of it, then, embarrassed,
tried to push Tom away. Tom persisted, however, and Harry gave in to the
delirious feel of that hot, wet mouth. The intensity was overwhelming, and
almost before he realized it, he was coming hard. Harry was mortified, but
Tom didn't seem to mind, swallowing all the semen and licking him clean.

        Tom took Harry in his arms again, and Harry hugged him, panting. He
knew Tom was still unsatisfied, but he wasn't sure what to do about it.
"Tom...?" he asked hesitantly.

        Tom took Harry's hand, molding it around his erection, guiding it
long, slow strokes. Tom shut his eyes, lying back on the bed, bucking into
Harry's touch. He looked so beautiful, flushed and glowing with arousal.
Harry wanted to do for him what he'd done for Harry, even though he hadn't
asked. He moved down and began licking the thick penis in his hand.

        Tom made an odd, strangled noise. Harry smiled up at him. The blue
eyes were wide with astonishment. Harry slid his mouth over Tom's erection,
careful to keep his teeth away from the tender flesh. He couldn't take the
full length down his throat as Tom had done, but he licked and sucked at the
flared head, and used his hands to stroke what wouldn't fit in his mouth.
Tom seemed to like it, judging from the way he groaned and thrashed.

        "Harry...!" Tom cried, then Harry's mouth was filled with thick, hot
ejaculate. He'd planned to swallow it, as Tom had, but it tasted a lot
different from the pre-cum, so strong and bitter.

        Reading the look on his face, Tom groped for a towel from stack on
the bedside table. "Here, spit it out," he said, eyes sparkling with
amusement. Harry hesitated, then did it. Tom used the corner of the towel to
wipe Harry's mouth. "It's okay. Don't worry, not everyone likes the taste.
Especially at first." He gave Harry a kiss. "You did great. Thank you."

        Reassured, Harry stretched out beside Tom. They lay together for a
long, languid moment. Then Harry remembered he was out after curfew...in one
of Commander Newcomb's hangouts.

        "What's wrong?" Tom asked.

        "Nothing," Harry said. "It's just...I have to get back."

        "Yeah, me too." One more kiss, then they began to get dressed.

        "So, is the Ramon Magsaysay a good ship?" Tom said.

        Harry opened his mouth to answer, then did a double-take. "How did
you know?"

        Tom grinned. "I know Starfleet-issue underwear when I see it, and
the Magsaysay is the only Starfleet vessel in orbit right now."

        Harry grinned back. "Ravish a lot of Starfleet cadets, do you?"

        Tom paled. "Cadets?"

        Damn. "Officers! I mean officers!" Harry said.

        Tom didn't buy it. "Gods. Harry, how old are you? Really? Please
tell me you're eighteen."

        "I'll be nineteen in a few months," Harry said anxiously.

        Tom smiled faintly. "Well, I guess that makes you old
enough...barely. But what are you doing here? Cadets aren't allowed to
wander about at this hour."

        "I snuck out," Harry admitted. "My roommate bet that I wouldn't have
the guts."

        Tom looked at him, conflicting emotions flitting across his face.
Humor finally won, and he laughed. "Well, I guess you've won."

        "Yes...except...."

        "What?"

        "Except I don't have any proof," Harry said. "I was going to use my
receipt, but..."

        "Hmmm." The blue eyes flashed wickedly. "Oh, you have your proof,
Harry."

                                 # # # # # #

        McAllister was still awake when Harry returned. Of course. The man
never seemed to sleep. At least, not at night.

        "Kim! You okay?" The guy was actually a little worried. Had he been
gone that long?

        "Fine, Mac," Harry said casually. "How's the Astronavigation going?"

        McAllister eyed Harry suspiciously. "What did you do, hide in the
closet down the hall all night?"

        "Nope," Harry said, and calmly began stripping for bed.

        "Kim!" McAllister stared at Harry's now-bare backside. "What's that
on your ass?"

        "Hmm?" Harry replied innocently.

        "It's a...bitemark!?" The incredulous look on McAllister's face was
priceless.

        "Oh. Yeah." Harry grinned. "By the way, McAllister, you owe me fifty
credits."

                                  [Image]

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