Unbeta'd.
I own nothing.
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They had maybe a minute before he crew came; plucked them from the inky night water where Erik and Charles had been struggling just moments before. Now though, now it was quiet, save the water lapping at their soaked clothes and the soft hum of motors and crewmen talking.
These things between them were always quick. They were new on set and for some reason, even from that first screen reading, they clicked. It was unnatural and unnerving and dangerous, and perhaps that was why Michael reached out through the water. Perhaps that's why James let him grab his arms and pull him forward. Their teeth and tongues came together and tasted of male and musk and sea salt. They took in each others' air, bodies tired from their stay in the waves. Neither noticed, fingers clutching a damp sweater or slipping across the rubber of a wetsuit. It was fast a vicious and neither had their eyes open because really if they opened them they'd see the other andnone of this ever happened.
By the time the boat arrived to pick them up and give them warm blankets and thermoses full of hot tea, they were a few feet apart and treading water. They were sharing looks, a silent agreement of'tell no one' passing between them. Once on the boat, they treated each other no differently. But if they cast occasional glances at one another until they arrived at the hotel, neither commented.
