Feeling a bit meh about my attempts to write the next chapters of Things Left Unsaid and Nightwatchman so thought I would cheer myself up, and hopefully kick myself into gear at the same time, by writing this wee bit of plot free fluffy fun. Inspired by the Tanyed love-in on Thurs!

We sit on the sofa, idly casting a semi-focused gaze at the TV in front of us, letting the worries and stresses of the day melt under the reassuring mundanity of familiar TV shows, as we rest peacefully in the quiet comfort of each other's company.

It is Christian's voice that breaks our silence, cutting through the banal chatter of the vacant pretty faces with a sudden vigour.

"So Sy, if you could have any bloke in Walford, who would it be?"

He turns to me, expectantly, eyes and mouth aligned in the enthusiastic joy that comes readily to him in nearly every situation. I however merely stare blankly at him in no little confusion, bewilderment flooding over my features as I attempt, and fail, to give appropriate meaning and context to the words. In the end I settle for a simple response.

"What?"

"I'm bored and felt like playing a game." As if that explains everything. "So who would you choose, out of all the men in Walford?" he repeats as if the words should speak for themselves and I shake my head, none the wiser.

"Erm, you?"

"Nooo, you idiot," and this time it is he who shakes his head, lightly cuffing me with the palm of his hand as he does so. "Right, I don't exist, so forget all about me. Now who would it be?"

"You don't exist? Why not? What happened? Did you get some kind of wasting disease? Why am I still around if you're not here?" I turn further round to face Christian full on. Christian, who is looking at me affectionately like I am a particularly slow child, while his hand strokes my hair back behind my ears.

"I never existed. Look just forget about me. Yeah I know it's tough, but just try for a few minutes." I bite back the laugh that bubbled up inside as Christian places a condescending hand on my knee. "It's a whole alternative universe thing, you like those, you big sci-fi geek."

"Just because I can watch Doctor Who without asking what's going on every five minutes doesn't make me a 'sci-fi geek', it makes a sentient adult with a working memory."

"Same difference," Christian dismissed with a blasé wave of his hand. "Anyway, in this universe I don't exist."

"Then no-one. For a start, everyone else is straight, and don't start on how Ryan tried to grope you one day, we both know you were wasted and he was merely trying to move you out of the way before you puked on him. And more pertinently, if you didn't exist then I'd still be trapped inside my desperate attempt of a closet, trying pitifully to pretend that I could find any of women in Walford, or the world for that matter, attractive."

Christian twisted a lock of hair around his fingers, his eyes filling with a dark shadow. "Oh Sy, my poor baby. But I do exist and look at you now, all gorgeous and happy. You are happy aren't you?"

"Amazingly. Sickeningly, in fact. Stop fishing, you know how happy you make me."

The shadow passes and Christian's eyes return to their customary sparkle and glimmer. "In that case you can do your lovely boyfriend a favour and answer his question. So to recap for the 100th time; alternative universe, all men are gay, you're out and proud. So who would it be?"

"I dunno, how do you expect me to answer a question like that?"

"Okay, maybe I'll pick someone for you then. Erm… Jack?"

I lean back on the sofa and sigh with defeat. When Christian got the bit between his teeth there was really no point in stopping him. It was easier just to go with the flow.

"Nope. Never got what he has that wins all the women over."

"Ha, I asked Rox once and got an earful of bile interspersed with horribly graphic details." I must have failed to hide the shudder that crossed my face at the image Christian conjured as he starts laughing and ruffling my hair. "And speaking of Roxy's delightful conquests, Michael?"

"Ew, no thanks. I'd rather sleep with Roxy. Well not really obviously, but you know what I mean."

"So who would it be then? Phil? Billy? Oooh I know, Ian?"

"Bastard." I spluttered out between laughs, Christian smartly dodging the wild swipes I directed to his giggling body. "Yeah, Ian totally does it for me. In fact I might just pop down to the chippy now just to see him," and I made to get off the sofa before I am unceremoniously dragged back, Christian's arms tightening around my waist as I return to the warmth of his embrace.

"No going anywhere boy, till you have answered my question. Okay how about…Ryan?"

"Stop projecting your fantasies," I huff, in a mostly put on fashion.

"What? He's cute," and without meaning to I feel my shoulders tensing slightly and I edge slightly away. Looking back up I catch sight of familiar lips twitching and all too innocent eyes sparkling with tell-tale mischief and I whack him in the stomach.

"Bastard. You're just trying to wind me up."

"I would never dream of such a thing," he states, with wide-eyed sincerity. "Anyway there's only one dark-haired fit guy that I'm interested in and he is far more gorgeous. And interesting, and clever, and loving…" His words are now punctuated with kisses to my neck and I feel myself melting, surrendering to the sensation of soft lips pressing into my craven flesh.

Until he suddenly pulls away.

"Oooh, how about Greg?"

I open my mouth to reply, but the urge to tease Christian back is irresistible.

"Well, he is very fit. I mean, really so. And a really nice guy too, so supportive of Tan. He's a pretty good catch I'd say."

"Sounds like the perfect guy," Christian chirped cheerfully, with a smile that declared he was not going to take the bait. "So is that why you want to set up a salon with Tan? So you can perve on her fiancé?"

I smiled back too and continue pleasantly. "Well it's a perk of the job I guess. Oh and apparently he's amazing in bed. Tan says he's like a stallion or something, and the positions he can do…"

Well that worked. I clench my fists to hold back my laugh at the sight of Christian's shocked face.

"You and Tanya discuss each other's sex lives?" His voice raises a couple of pitches and I can't resist any longer, letting the laughter fall from my mouth with delighted ease.

"Ha, gotcha! I like Tanya but I definitely don't want any images of that." And I quickly shut down any half formed painful memories of awkward fumbles and pained silences, focusing instead as Christian's face regains some of its normal colour, his composure seemingly rapidly returning.

"Shame. I thought maybe you shared stories, you making her all jealous by telling her what we get up to."

Sensing one final attempt to push Christian over the edge, I look at him in mock confusion and ask, guilelessly, "But why would she be jealous, when she's the one who has Greg?"

"Right that's it," and Christian launches himself onto me, his hands gripping tight on my shoulders, pushing me into the firm back of the sofa, his thighs pressing tight around my legs, leaving me willingly trapped under his power. His eyes meet mine, unsmiling in their intensity, desire ripped raw as he covers my face with his licentious gaze, undressing my body with his open want.

"Tell me Sy," he begins, his voice low, dripping with undisguised lust. "D'ya think Greg could make you hard, just from the way he looks at you?"

My teeth press hard into my lip and I shiver, my veins running hot with molten want.

"D'ya think Greg could make you moan just from a single kiss?"

And my neck leans back with silent accord as the tender tip of his tongue pokes out from his mouth and edges the lightest of licks to the hollow of my collarbone, letting the short stubble on his chin graze against my skin. I dig my fingers into my jeans in an attempt to hold back the keens in my throat but a soft unvoiced cry curls out and I feel the edges of Christian's mouth form a distinctive smirk.

"What's the matter Syed, cat got your tongue?"

"I hate you."

My skin tingles under the feel of his warm breath as he laughs and with the shimmer of the feather-light kisses that pepper my neck, my chin, behind my ear.

"You love me."

A single finger slowly snakes its way down the front of my shirt, sending pinpricks of pleasure cascading through my body and I find my eyes flickering shut with anticipation.

"You want me."

He toys with my buckle, gently tugs back and forth at the zip of my jeans, and I dig my fingers firmly onto the nearby cushions, my hips involuntarily thrusting up in desperation for his touch. His breath hits my ear and his voice purrs, low and wanton.

"Do you think Greg could ever get you this desperate?"

"Stop it." I spit out the words through tightly clenched teeth. "I won't ever be able to look Greg in the eyes again."

"Good. That'll stop you fluttering your eyelashes at him, tempting him with the delights of the wild side."

"I don't flutter!" I state, indignantly, opening my eyes fully now to see the delicious impish grin coating his features.

"What, not even at your clients?"

"Especially not at my clients."

"What if…" and that grin just broadens, his eyes sparkling with lust and misbehaviour. "What if you had a particularly demanding client. You know, one that has huge demands and just wants more, and more and more all the time."

Oh. Now I know where he is going and I feel my desire grow even greater.

"Well I guess I'd have to see." I hold back my laughter as Christian pulls off the sofa, his grin disappearing into a more sober expression, smoothing down his rumpled top and extending a hand to me.

"Syed Masood, I presume? Christian Clarke. I've heard great things about what you can do with those hands. I think you could be just what I need."

I struggle to compose myself, and stand up next to him, absorbing the thrill of delayed gratification. "Really? Well I'll have to see if I can squeeze you in at all. You see I'm a busy man Mr Clarke, very much in demand."

"I bet you are. But you see, I have a rather pressing need that needs to be seen to quite urgently. I'm sure you could fit me in somewhere."

"Maybe, you should tell me what exactly the problem is. So I can assess your particular need more accurately."

"Well, I have this rather great stiffness that needs to be seen to, and I think you're just the man for the job."

"It does sound like my speciality."

I should probably warn you, it's quite a large job, but I reckon you can handle it."

Christian's face is still a picture of composure, even while his eyes are rapidly ridding me of my clothes as he edges nearer and nearer to me. I force myself to keep playing and not just to grab him right now.

"So...is it an all over stiffness?" I query, innocently.

"More like in one specific area."

"And have you tried to…administer any relief to this area yourself?"

"It's just not the same." He shakes his hand sadly. "I definitely need some urgent assistance from you. You would of course be suitably rewarded."

"Oh really?"

"Definitely. I think I can make it worth your while and I'm confident we'll both be satisfied with the result. But maybe you'd like to assess the full extent of the situation yourself."

Barely a breath apart now, he reaches back for my hand and drags it between us, pressing it up against his rock hard erection.

I gasp, in mock surprise and genuine desire. "Mr. Clarke, you're trying to seduce me."

A delighted grin comes back onto his face as our bodies press tighter together, my hand trapped between our jean-clad groins.

"Would you like me to seduce you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

And finally I can take no more, grabbing his neck with my free hand and pulling his lips to mine, our tongues colliding with delayed lust and pent up heat, while my other hand fiddles urgently with his zip.

We stumble to the bed, his hands pulling at my trousers, bursting open the belt buckle, yanking impatiently at the zip, our kiss never breaking as we fall onto the bed, trousers caught around our ankles, boxers shoved forcefully out of the way.

Lying like this on the bed, our half-dressed bodies twist around each other, grinding against skin, against sheets, into hands. Fingers combine together, grasping and pumping in unison around our thrusting cocks. The feeling of hot smooth rigid flesh rubbing against hot smooth rigid flesh. The sound of our moans and cries into open mouthed kisses. The rub of our clothes against each other, our movements stifled by the awkward pull of our jeans, the aching pleasure of succumbing to desperate need that cannot be restrained.

My cries increase, louder, pleading, needful as my body tenses under the pressure of our hands and the wet heat of his mouth, until my eyes shut, my body shudders, and my world spins into oblivion.

"Oh Sy…oh fuck…" he cries into the open air of the flat and with erratic thrusts into our still conjoined hands, I feel him come, and fall, his body collapsing next to mine on the bed.

Silently, we each kick off our jeans, and use weary hands to pull creased tops over our heads, moving naturally and seamlessly into each other's arms. I turn my face up to his and smile into his radiant beam, my cheek muscles near aching from the pleasure they feel compelled to display. "So, did that meet your exacting standards Mr. Clarke?"

"I think that was more than adequate, yep. In fact I can see myself calling upon your services again."

"I think I could come to terms with that."

Christian chuckles and drags a hand through my bed-wild hair, gently rubbing a thumb over my kiss-swollen lips. "And you think you can work with Tanya without being too madly jealous about her fiancé?"

I sigh and pretend to ponder, until a cheek splitting grin escapes from my mouth. "More like the other way round, you should have seen the way she looked when she said how fit you looked. She definitely fancies you." I let my eyes drop down and linger over the delights of his body. "And she doesn't even know the half of it," I grin proudly.

"Well obviously. But she fancies you more. I saw you two in the pub, she'd be ditching Greg in a second if you were straight."

"Nah, maybe if you were."

"No you. Ha, maybe we should ask her and settle it."

"Yeah, cos that wouldn't make working at her house awkward at all."

"See, you're just trying to get out of it cos you know I'm right."

And so we bicker on contentedly into the night, wrapped in our cocoon of warmth against the spring night chills.