The new and actually edited version - sorry, enjoy!

He's right. He's always right. It would be irritating if it wasn't so frightening. How he can make everything fade away until it's just me and him.

This is something that I realise every time he holds me. Every time we make love. I somehow manage to forget it when we part. All my fears, duties and obligations push us apart once more, and I forget. I actually forget how good and right it feels when we're together. I lie to myself. I lie to him.

But right now, in moments like these, I remember. And I agree with everything he says. He could tell me Earth isn't a planet and I'd nod along all happily in agreement.

I smile and stifle a manly giggle against his bare shoulder.

"Mmm what's that?" His voice is groggy with sleep, but still has that constant streak of mischief and curiosity. I lie in his bed on my side facing him, arms lazily slung across that incredible body of his (thanks for making me feel all puny Christian! I swear that's the main reason why he works out so much lately). He lies flat on his back and our legs are tangled together in a way that feels strange yet right. Granted, it mostly feels strange because the feeling hasn't quite returned to my legs yet. I know that if I even attempt to get up I'll look like Bambi on ice - all jelly legged.

I laugh again at the image, causing my body to quiver in that I'm-really-trying-not-to-laugh-and-sound-like-a-lunatic kind of way. You could abbreviate it to Love Drunk I suppose.

"What's so funny?" He rolls towards me so we are face to face, inches apart. His expression of sleepy bewilderment sets me off again and his eyebrows quirk up.

"S-sorry! It's nothing." I regain my composure. Eventually.

"You gonna let me in on the joke?" Christian uses his flirty, only-joking voice, but it sounds a little cranky to me. I think someone's a little paranoid... Or insecure. That's insane of course. We're this close and he looks even more gorgeous than the beginning of the night and I feel like a complete mess. Rumpled hair and stubble rash works for him. There is no justice in the world I tell you.

"Nope!" I allow myself to cup his cheek gently. The tension drains from his face, replaced by a softer look that I hope he only saves for me. But then the mischievous look emerges with a vengeance. Uh oh. That can't be good.

"Right!"

"Christian no!" Suddenly he's on top of me and has become a tickling monster.

"Are you laughing at me Mr Syed? Are you? Well?! I'm waiting!"

"Could you be any camper?" I shriek out between torturous giggles.

Now he's laughing too, and only doubles his evil efforts. I thrash but it is useless and the war is obviously lost. So strong... His dancing fingers mercilessly tickle my bare chest, the sensitive area of my neck, my poor stomach...

"Not the tummy! Ack how could you?" I choke it out and he laughs harder.

"Now who's camp?" He giggles. I love that smile. It lights up his whole face. I want to make him smile more. I know I make him sad most of the time, and I hate it but...

My trail of thoughts suddenly brake off as his aggressive tickling slows. He lies pliant against me, hands rubbing the abused areas slowly, sensually, now leaving a trail of fire in their wake instead. He slowly kisses his way down my chest, following his hands. It's suddenly much harder to breathe.

I swallow hard. Predatory Christian emerges.

"What were you laughing about?" He whispers it, hands moving lower at their achingly slow speed. A new kind of torture.

"How ridiculously good this feels." My voice is low and husky. I wave a shaky hand, indicating him and me but there's no need. He already understands. His face lights up again.

He rolls his eyes. "Finally."

A single word but I know what he means too. I trail my hands down his arms gently, feeling those wonderful muscles of his. I press a kiss against his neck, lips lingering against his hot skin, savouring. He shivers and pulls back a little so we are face to face once more.

"You may not be able to admit it, but you're getting there." I search those deep blue eyes for a clue. They are dark from this angle and filled with mixed emotions. One seems to be happiness, the other confusion. And then there's good old lust of course. Uncomplicated lust. That was all I thought there was between us for so long. That was a lie. My hands have wandered somewhere else now of their own accord. His eyes flutter shut and he rocks his hips against me. I gasp from this unexpected contact.

"Admit what?" I love you, you know I do. The words are lost as he presses his lips against mine - roughly, desperately. His tongue darts against my mouth. He bites my bottom lip harder than usual (we're so good at being careful, A cynical part of my mind thinks, no marks...). One of his talented, strong hands finds my hair, stroking softly. He once told me that he loves my hair. A haircut is long overdue but that is the main reason I steer clear of the Barbers. I love how he tenderly pushes it back, to search my eyes or attack my neck with passionate kisses. I love how he buries his face in it. I love it when his fingers plunge through it, tugging back hard when he comes undone, making me cry out with him...

His lips leave mine and I protest with a moan. But his hands are everywhere and we move against each other in a wonderful rhythm. Sharing our racing breath and heart beats. Feels so good....

Finally, he answers, emphasising each word carefully. "That you are mine."

A statement like that would have scared me to death before. But what's the point in being scared? He's right. Of course he's right. For better or for worse.

My eyes meet him and we freeze for the barest second, more naked than ever. "Yours." I nod slowly in agreement. "Now show me."

And he did.

Later that night, I drift on the verge of sleep in his arms. This is after we made love again.

This time was different. This time I cried out his name, chanting it over and over as I gripped his shoulders, clinging as if he were my anchor. I gasped out his name until it meant everything and nothing all at once as I fell apart. At his completion he called out my name, completely thrilling as always. But this time he kept repeating one word. One word which was: Mine. And that was even better.

A little laughter is a dangerous thing. Everything about us is dangerous. But I can't help feeling that it's right. This time, I won't forget this feeling when I leave his arms and his home.

I won't. I won't let myself.

I always do.

I frown and concentrate on the moment. I am blissfully happy. Relaxed, content, sleepy...

"I hope you're not falling asleep Mister Masood." I grin lazily, not opening my eyes. He sounds pretty groggy himself. "Sleep shows weakness of character."

I burrow under the covers, half-groaning, half-laughing.

He continues. "Fine, don't expect me to protect you if anyone breaks in then."

I must have fallen asleep, this is too bizarre. Or maybe it's Christian who is practically sleep talking.

"I've got you for the whole night for once. Can't waste it." He's joking right? Right?!

I resurface.

"You're insatiable." I groan, eyes opening a crack.

He laughs. "You love it."

I growl, half serious.

"Me sleep please?"

He pulls me into his arms and I cuddle into him. "Oh alright then. But I was thinking we could..." His voice trails off mysteriously.

"No!" I'm wide awake now. What is with him tonight?!

More laughter. "I'm kidding. I kind of wanted to talk. That's all." I peer at him in the dark. He looks serious, but sounds unsure of himself, as if he thought I would laugh at his request.

"Really?"

"Yes. I want to know you."

"You do know me." I insist, tracing his jaw line.

"Really know you."

I think of the implications. There are so many hidden meanings for what he says. People assume he's just the dim pretty boy. But he's not at all. He sees so much. He sees me.

I hesitate before smiling. "Yes, okay."

He kisses me softly on the lips. His little thank you. I briefly wonder what door we've opened now.

I wonder, but I go through it anyway.

Let me know what you think, I may continue. Thanks for reading!