Disclaimer: Christian, Syed, Jane and Amira (the last two are only mentioned, so don't worry about angsty cameos: it's just sex) do not belong to me. If they did, Syed's wedding day would have gone something like this:

Syed: I'm gay, mum.

Zainab: Ok. We better call this wedding off then.

-end scene-

This story is dedicated to the wonderful Lovebites123, whose Chryed fanfiction is really lovely. It is also dedicated to the people of Waiting For Chryed To Get It On, whose tireless devotion to smut-talking inspired this story. To each and every one of you, who works hard to make sure that not one single day goes by without someone posting a link to Bed Scene, Towel Scene, Greenery Kiss et al, I must tell you this: Your dirty talk and deviancy has helped me write this; my first ever slash fic AND first ever Chryed fic. Without you guys, this story wouldn't exist. I salute you.

Rated M for mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmMWAH! and for putting the O My! into Sod-O-My

Perfect Fit

They fit together perfectly.

It was a constant source of wonder to Syed; how well his body fitted with another man's. That out of all the people that existed in the world – billions and billions of them – he had found one that fitted so perfectly. It was as though God, or the Creator, or the Great Architect – whatever you wanted to call Him – had purposely designed Christian so that he, Syed, fitted so perfectly in his arms.

They lay on their sides, Syed facing away from Christian. Larger than Syed, Christian was wrapped around the smaller man like a … Well, like a comfortable blanket. Or perhaps more like a piece of silk: sensuous and pleasing to the touch. Christian's right arm was under the duvet, his hand resting lightly on Syed's belly. His left was crooked, his head resting on it as he slept. Part of Syed longed to wake him, to demand his undivided attention, but Christian had a long day ahead of him tomorrow so it was best to let him sleep.

In typical Christian fashion he had thrown himself back into Syed's life, taking the weight of Syed's problems onto his own shoulders. Amira, Syed's estranged ex-wife and mother to his daughter, wanted a pay-out in return for their divorce, and Christian had found a job in the Canary Islands that would earn a large chunk of what she was asking for. As far as Christian was concerned – as far as they were both concerned – there were no Syed-problems or Christian-problems: they belonged together so completely that there was only their-problems.

And Amira was a pretty big problem.

Tomorrow evening Christian was flying out to Grand Canaria. They had anticipated spending their last night together alone, hopeful that Christian's sister, Jane – who was leaving for Cardiff tomorrow – would spend her last evening out with her friend Tanya. Instead, Jane had arrived back at their shared flat (where she had been staying until she departed) in tears, almost inconsolable. They'd spent the rest of the night cheering her up, until it was very late and their time was gone. Then Christian had put her to bed with the end of the bottle of wine, and here they were; lying in each others arms – one wakeful and regretful while the other slept.

At least, Syed assumed he slept.

With a soft grunt, Christian rolled away. First, onto his back and then onto his right side so he was facing away. He shifted his body back slightly and Syed frowned as he felt Christian's back against his own. Next, Christian gently pressed his naked bottom against Syed's…

… And farted.

Syed opened his eyes. As he processed what had just happened, Christian quickly shifted back into his former position and wrapped his arms back around his partner.

"Christian?" Syed whispered, bemused. He knew his boyfriend was awake: the bed shook from the force of his silent laughter.

"Shh!" Christian said soothingly. He snuggled closer and kissed Syed tenderly on the shoulder. "That was just my bum sending your bum a text message."

Syed felt himself smile. He couldn't help it: Christian always knew how to make him smile. For a long time, back when it was complicated and hard, he hadn't been able to smile, and had never felt like laughing. Then Christian had changed all that, and Syed smiled for him every day.

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "I needed that."

"Aw, babe! It was a heartfelt message of love!"

"That better not smell."

"I thought you liked it when I was dirty."

Sy's smile widened as Christian's fingers brushed along the smooth skin of his belly. Sy felt his cock beginning to twitch and jump like a puppet; like a marionette held tightly by Christian's strings, dancing to his tune.

"I can check the smell if you like," Christian continued, his voice taking on a husky tone. His hand clenched around Syed's member and pumped once, twice, three times. Sy felt his hips buck as he ground back, a moan torn from his throat. His buttocks made contact with Christian's growing arousal, and his ego rose.

I can do this to him, he thought to himself, strangely proud. Every night we lie together, and every night I turn him on. I'll know he doesn't love me when the night comes that he looks at me and doesn't get hard.

Christian rose on his elbow and leaned over, claiming Syed's mouth in a possessive kiss. Their lips parted and Sy took over, driven now by pure lust and desperate need. He sucked the length of Christian's tongue, his own tongue stroking the underside in a crude parody of a blow-job. Christian moaned into his mouth and took the hint.

They broke apart as Christian moved to position himself on top of Syed. For a moment he stayed like that, raised over his panting lover as the harsh glare from the streetlight outside their flat bathed them in a weak, orange glow. From where he lay, Sy did his best to drink in Christian's face; to remember every detail of his Big Man, to recall his looks better in their coming weeks of separation. He knew Christian was doing the same, his usually soft green eyes were now intense, changed to a feral amber by the light outside the window.

As though given a silent signal, they broke the moment and moved together: Syed upwards as he offered his mouth again, at the same moment that Christian dipped his head down to claim it once more.

He trailed soft kisses along Syed's jaw, down his bared throat – lingering over one particular spot as he debated giving Sy a love-bite – (best not; his mum'll go nuts) and along the fine line of his collar bone. He licked at the small hollow above the sternum, enjoying the quickened pace of his lover's chest as it rose and fell with sensual excitement. He moved down, scooting back on his knees as his mouth followed the downy trail to Sy's waist.

He gripped Sy's hips, marvelling in the soft, creamy feel of his skin – How can a man have such soft skin? It amazed him every time they touched – and buried his face in his pubic hair, taking Sy's cock into his mouth in one go. Above him, Sy gasped audibly and tried to stop himself from pushing forward, loving – needing – the soft, velvety warmth that surrounded him.

Christian worked his tongue carefully, licking slowly up the length of Sy's member, flicking the sensitive tip and lapping at the curiously sweet pre-cum that leaked out. Sy whimpered, and Christian grinned. He loved making his boyfriend lose control.

Something nudged against his head. He gave a few more strenuous licks before looking up. Sy was half-sitting up, balanced on one elbow, his eyes serious and dark with arousal. He waved a small tube of lubricant vaguely at Christian, almost taking his eye out.

"We're almost out," Christian said as he took the tube from his partner.

"I'll get some tomorrow," Syed promised.

Christian paused and raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow. "You planning on using it when I'm gone?"

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

Christian smiled and shook his head before returning to the task at hand. He loved the scent of Syed: deep musk and a hint of talcum powder that clung to the pubic hair to create a new, heady perfume that intoxicated him. As he settled his mouth back over Sy's cock, one hand moved to caress a bare buttock; fingertips lingering teasingly; skating over the puckered hole. When Sy finally whimpered, Christian inserted a well-oiled finger inside.

Sy clenched, and Christian loved it. Half the fun of their love-making was in the anticipation: the anticipation of that kiss; the anticipation of a mouth; the anticipation of a finger; of a tight squeeze… And every time they did it Christian thought that he was harder than he'd ever been in his life.

Syed was like a promise, and fucking him was the greatest drug of all.

Two fingers. Christian chanced a sneaky look up, and saw that Syed was clutching at his hair, his fists covering his face. He was beyond control now, almost begging for it, and Christian didn't want to disappoint.

Sod this: he's slick enough!

Christian scooted back up, and Syed looked up, wondering why the blow-job had finished prematurely.

"I'm getting too old to keep up with you," Christian said ruefully. He pushed Syed's legs apart and knelt between them. "Lift your hips."

Syed did as he was told, puzzled but willing to go along with it. Christian slid his hands and forearms underneath Syed, wrapped them around his back and pulled him up so that he was sitting on top of Christian's lap, his legs on either side of Christian's hips. Their cocks bounced comically, the heads rubbing together with light, teasing touches. Syed, elevated by his position, bent his head and claimed Christian's mouth in a deep kiss.

He felt Christian apply slight pressure, lifting him a little. He understood, and positioned himself as best he could. Taking a deep breath – and moving before Christian was ready – he lowered himself down onto Christian's cock. The sharp intake of breath his partner gasped out was worth the slight, burning pain, and Christian rested his head against Sy's.

I love you, Big Man, Syed thought.

They moved together, Christian's strong arms helping Syed rise and fall, and rise and fall, and rise and fall again, until the world spun around them and all they could hear was the sound of their hearts, beating in unison, and their breath coming in heady gasps of desire. As they moved, clutching each other, Sy's cock was pressed between their bellies, their flesh working to add friction, bringing him again and again to the point of climax.

"Come with me," Christian whispered, begged.

With a grin, Sy nodded and changed his seating, tilting backwards so that with every stroke, every rise and fall, Christian pressed against his prostate. He felt his cheeks burn red as the tingling orgasm spread slowly upwards through his body, and when he came Christian came too, with a low growl that drowned Syed's soft cry.

His vision dimmed for a moment as he collapsed against Christian's shoulder. He felt Christian's arms around him, holding him close, and they stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying each other; breathing each other in.

"My legs hurt," Sy said, his voice muffled by Christian's embrace.

"Bet it was worth it," Christian replied.

"It bloody was."

Christian lowered Sy back onto the bed before curling up beside him once again. They were sticky and exhausted and they didn't care: they were together. Everything could be endured; could be suffered, as long as they had each other.

Sy closed his eyes, his lips curled into a secret smile. He felt Christian burrow into his shoulder; felt the hot breath from his lover's mouth and nose against his skin. It was peaceful: it was perfect. They were perfect: they fit together.

About ten minutes passed like this, lost in a blissful haze. Then Sy felt Christian move away. He turned onto his left side and shifted back once more, placing his bare cheeks against Sy's bum.

And he farted again.

Sy opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder as Christian, a big grin lighting his face, snuggled back into the embrace.

"What was that for?" Sy asked, bewildered.

"Delivery report," Christian said smugly.

Author's note: anon comments are turned on, so please review. Remember: reviews = more smut. And smut makes Chryed happy. You don't want to make them cry, do you?