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Day 4: Fic "You're a Top (You're Not)" (Star Trek: Voyager) [R]
Title: You're a Top (You're Not)
Author: mandykaysfic
Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager
Characters: Harry Kim (and a little bit of Chakotay/Paris)
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,200
Notes: 1. Earthside AU - Voyager does not exist.
2. Intentionally poking fun at a common trope.
Summary: Size is everything, especially when it determines who tops and who bottoms. That's Harry's job.
Harry's head pounded and he wished the lights in the anteroom were not so bright, no matter how much easier they made his job. They had a good crowd tonight. The boss would be pleased; the mix of tops and bottoms was fairly even.
The outer door opened and Harry put on his best work face. The walk to his table gave him all the time he needed to perform a lightning fast assessment, and after just two months he was pretty good at it. He prided himself on his ninety-seven percent accuracy rating. He glanced over the latest couple seeking entry.
The darker man was older, more heavily built, more quietly dressed. All of those points combined to outweigh the fact he was around two inches shorter than his companion, heeled boots not withstanding. Harry identified the tattoo that decorated his left brow as a tribal mark, which in his experience simply confirmed the man's status as a top.
Sparkling blue eyes captured Harry's attention and he almost forgot himself. He barely managed not to lick his lips and he flushed when he realized Blue Eyes knew exactly what he was feeling. He quickly ran through his mental check-list: younger, prettier, slighter. Definitely a bottom; one who was secure in his place in life.
The pair made to enter the main room of the club, but Harry hurriedly shook his head. He pointed to the placard on the wall. The instructions were clear. Sure enough, the darker one excused the two of them and they stepped to the side for the, well, Harry wouldn't call it an argument.
“Tom.”
“Chakotay.”
That would be exasperated then, rather than angry. Harry didn't catch much of their low-voiced discussion except for their names. They came back to the table and he raised his eyebrows. Together they lowered their pants.
Harry performed his inspection. Neither were adorned in any way. No clues there, but he didn't really need them. Chakotay was possessed of a large, thick cock. Tom's was pale and slender. Just as Harry had mentally predicted. He picked up two wrist bands and handed the blue one to Chakotay while the red one went to Tom. Once the bands were in place, he waved them through where he didn't see them look at one another and hastily exchange bands. He turned his attention to the little group of three who'd arrived while he was checking things over.
“Gerron!” greeted Harry enthusiastically. He had a red wrist band already in his hand as the young Bajoran was a regular.
“Do I have to, Harry?” whined Gerron.
“You know the rules.”
“These pants take forever to get down,” he tried hopefully. “And you know me. There was never a more dedicated bottom than me.”
“No dice, Gerron. Why'd you wear them anyway?” Harry dangled the wrist band tantalizing out of reach. Besides, Harry saw no reason to deprive himself of one of the perks of the job. He saw enough penises to provided him with jerk-off fuel for probably the rest of his natural life.
Gerron's friends dropped their pants to their knees while Gerron shimmied and wiggled and cursed his choice of clothing. Harry was familiar with Chell, who'd been to the club a number of times in the past with Gerron. He gave the small, blue penis with its central bifurcation a cursory glance and handed Chell the red band of a bottom. Dalby was more of a surprise package. Of course, his manner screamed top, even if his build didn't, but when he dropped his pants, his ten inches clinched matters most satisfactorily. Gerron finally displayed his pierced and charmingly ridged dick to Harry's satisfaction. With his red wrist band firmly in place, he hobbled through the door, still trying to fix up his pants.
The next two radiated toppiness practically before they even entered the door. Harry made his inspection last as long as he could get away with and sighed longingly as he handed over a blue band to the Vulcan he knew as Tuvok. He'd had many a fantasy over that one's cock. Ayala's had starred in almost as many. The two frequently hunted together and Harry had often masturbated to thoughts of himself being taken by Tuvok while he sucked off Ayala, or vice versa. He practically came on the spot when Ayala stuck out his wrist for Harry to band. He almost considered quitting his job, just so he could come here and don the red band of a bottom, then he'd be in with a chance of being picked up by Tuvok and Ayala.
There was a Vulcan in the next group as well. This one was younger by far than Tuvok and Harry thought he detected an air of uncertainty about him, although he thought he had to be misreading something. He almost reached for a blue band out of habit, but changed midstream and grabbed a red one when he saw the three inches the ridges only emphasized. Even balls the size of large plums could not disguise the fact Vorik was a born bottom. Harry gave himself a mental thumbs up. He could always tell.
The one they called Harran was a tricky one. In the end, Harry had to resort to the tape measure. Five and eleven sixteenths; a close call indeed. Harry handed him a red band. He had a few uncomfortable moments where he thought Harran may have protested, but the measurements were clearly stated in the rules. For single people: six inches and more - top. Less than six inches, you were a bottom, and that was the way it was. Unless you came in as a couple. Harry unaccountably flashed back to earlier. Had Tom come in on his own, he'd have earned a blue band to match his eyes. Harry had eyeballed him at six and a half inches easily. And while lengthwise he topped Tom by plenty, when it came to girth, Chakotay had him roundly beat, pun absolutely intended. They were a well-matched top/bottom pair by any standards.
Harry checked people in for another hour. When Pablo came to relieve him, he didn't protest. He collected his belongings from the staff room and hurried home. He barely took the time to grab a drink from the fridge before leaning against the counter top and tearing at his zipper. Tonight it would not be Tuvok and Ayala, or even treble-sized-Gerron-as-a-top he wanted to jerk off to. It was blue-eyed Tom and large, dark Chakotay that fueled his fantasies. Naughty, naughty fantasies in which smaller cocks were tops.
He pictured Chakotay, splayed out on the bed, arms behind his head as he watched Tom, who was kneeling between his legs, prepare him. He could practically hear the deep groan Chakotay would give when Tom breached him. Harry pushed impatiently at his clothes until his underwear and pants tangled partway down his thighs. His hand felt cool, his cock hot and then it wasn't temperature he concentrated on. His hand worked in time with Tom's thrusting, or did he make Tom move with speed he liked best. Harry really didn't care. He stopped over-thinking and just played the scene out in his head. He came when Tom did, over his hand and his shirt front. And he had no idea that later that night on the other side of town, his fantasy played out for real. Or that he'd got one wrong.
END
Author: mandykaysfic
Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager
Characters: Harry Kim (and a little bit of Chakotay/Paris)
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,200
Notes: 1. Earthside AU - Voyager does not exist.
2. Intentionally poking fun at a common trope.
Summary: Size is everything, especially when it determines who tops and who bottoms. That's Harry's job.
Harry's head pounded and he wished the lights in the anteroom were not so bright, no matter how much easier they made his job. They had a good crowd tonight. The boss would be pleased; the mix of tops and bottoms was fairly even.
The outer door opened and Harry put on his best work face. The walk to his table gave him all the time he needed to perform a lightning fast assessment, and after just two months he was pretty good at it. He prided himself on his ninety-seven percent accuracy rating. He glanced over the latest couple seeking entry.
The darker man was older, more heavily built, more quietly dressed. All of those points combined to outweigh the fact he was around two inches shorter than his companion, heeled boots not withstanding. Harry identified the tattoo that decorated his left brow as a tribal mark, which in his experience simply confirmed the man's status as a top.
Sparkling blue eyes captured Harry's attention and he almost forgot himself. He barely managed not to lick his lips and he flushed when he realized Blue Eyes knew exactly what he was feeling. He quickly ran through his mental check-list: younger, prettier, slighter. Definitely a bottom; one who was secure in his place in life.
The pair made to enter the main room of the club, but Harry hurriedly shook his head. He pointed to the placard on the wall. The instructions were clear. Sure enough, the darker one excused the two of them and they stepped to the side for the, well, Harry wouldn't call it an argument.
“Tom.”
“Chakotay.”
That would be exasperated then, rather than angry. Harry didn't catch much of their low-voiced discussion except for their names. They came back to the table and he raised his eyebrows. Together they lowered their pants.
Harry performed his inspection. Neither were adorned in any way. No clues there, but he didn't really need them. Chakotay was possessed of a large, thick cock. Tom's was pale and slender. Just as Harry had mentally predicted. He picked up two wrist bands and handed the blue one to Chakotay while the red one went to Tom. Once the bands were in place, he waved them through where he didn't see them look at one another and hastily exchange bands. He turned his attention to the little group of three who'd arrived while he was checking things over.
“Gerron!” greeted Harry enthusiastically. He had a red wrist band already in his hand as the young Bajoran was a regular.
“Do I have to, Harry?” whined Gerron.
“You know the rules.”
“These pants take forever to get down,” he tried hopefully. “And you know me. There was never a more dedicated bottom than me.”
“No dice, Gerron. Why'd you wear them anyway?” Harry dangled the wrist band tantalizing out of reach. Besides, Harry saw no reason to deprive himself of one of the perks of the job. He saw enough penises to provided him with jerk-off fuel for probably the rest of his natural life.
Gerron's friends dropped their pants to their knees while Gerron shimmied and wiggled and cursed his choice of clothing. Harry was familiar with Chell, who'd been to the club a number of times in the past with Gerron. He gave the small, blue penis with its central bifurcation a cursory glance and handed Chell the red band of a bottom. Dalby was more of a surprise package. Of course, his manner screamed top, even if his build didn't, but when he dropped his pants, his ten inches clinched matters most satisfactorily. Gerron finally displayed his pierced and charmingly ridged dick to Harry's satisfaction. With his red wrist band firmly in place, he hobbled through the door, still trying to fix up his pants.
The next two radiated toppiness practically before they even entered the door. Harry made his inspection last as long as he could get away with and sighed longingly as he handed over a blue band to the Vulcan he knew as Tuvok. He'd had many a fantasy over that one's cock. Ayala's had starred in almost as many. The two frequently hunted together and Harry had often masturbated to thoughts of himself being taken by Tuvok while he sucked off Ayala, or vice versa. He practically came on the spot when Ayala stuck out his wrist for Harry to band. He almost considered quitting his job, just so he could come here and don the red band of a bottom, then he'd be in with a chance of being picked up by Tuvok and Ayala.
There was a Vulcan in the next group as well. This one was younger by far than Tuvok and Harry thought he detected an air of uncertainty about him, although he thought he had to be misreading something. He almost reached for a blue band out of habit, but changed midstream and grabbed a red one when he saw the three inches the ridges only emphasized. Even balls the size of large plums could not disguise the fact Vorik was a born bottom. Harry gave himself a mental thumbs up. He could always tell.
The one they called Harran was a tricky one. In the end, Harry had to resort to the tape measure. Five and eleven sixteenths; a close call indeed. Harry handed him a red band. He had a few uncomfortable moments where he thought Harran may have protested, but the measurements were clearly stated in the rules. For single people: six inches and more - top. Less than six inches, you were a bottom, and that was the way it was. Unless you came in as a couple. Harry unaccountably flashed back to earlier. Had Tom come in on his own, he'd have earned a blue band to match his eyes. Harry had eyeballed him at six and a half inches easily. And while lengthwise he topped Tom by plenty, when it came to girth, Chakotay had him roundly beat, pun absolutely intended. They were a well-matched top/bottom pair by any standards.
Harry checked people in for another hour. When Pablo came to relieve him, he didn't protest. He collected his belongings from the staff room and hurried home. He barely took the time to grab a drink from the fridge before leaning against the counter top and tearing at his zipper. Tonight it would not be Tuvok and Ayala, or even treble-sized-Gerron-as-a-top he wanted to jerk off to. It was blue-eyed Tom and large, dark Chakotay that fueled his fantasies. Naughty, naughty fantasies in which smaller cocks were tops.
He pictured Chakotay, splayed out on the bed, arms behind his head as he watched Tom, who was kneeling between his legs, prepare him. He could practically hear the deep groan Chakotay would give when Tom breached him. Harry pushed impatiently at his clothes until his underwear and pants tangled partway down his thighs. His hand felt cool, his cock hot and then it wasn't temperature he concentrated on. His hand worked in time with Tom's thrusting, or did he make Tom move with speed he liked best. Harry really didn't care. He stopped over-thinking and just played the scene out in his head. He came when Tom did, over his hand and his shirt front. And he had no idea that later that night on the other side of town, his fantasy played out for real. Or that he'd got one wrong.
END