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Two weeks later. 7am.

"Right, one more lap and we'll call it quits for today, eh?" I turn to Ben, one of the new bunch of clients who had arrived promptly once the Christmas decorations had come down and the pounds had piled on. He seemed a generally easy-going bloke, relaxed and up for anything. Well, most things, I think to myself, noting the way his eyes widened in horror as beads of sweat dodged their way past the veins bulging in his forehead. "Or maybe as it's your first session I'll go easy on you and we can just have a quick warm down now instead," I amend and Ben sighs in relief.

"Thank fuck for that," he grins. "Seriously, I didn't think I was that unfit at the moment. I'm normally pretty on top of things but Christmas…"

"Yeah I know, eat, drink and eat some more! No worries mate, we'll get you back fighting fit in no time. " We start stretching out tight muscles and jogging slowly round the park in the winter morning gloom, chatting more easily now that the pace had lessened somewhat. "So, what do you normally do, fitness wise?"

"Bit of running, footie, mostly cricket though."

"Cricket?" I ask, the cogs in my brain starting to turn, a smile turning up the corners of my mouth.

"Yeah. Don't suppose you play much do you Christian?"

"Nah, not really one for team games," I reply, well not most of them, I think, allowing myself a brief smirk as I consider some the positions that my most enthusiastic and cooperative of teammates likes to get himself involved in.

"Shame, our team is just starting training again, getting ready for the new season starting in a couple of months time, and we really could do with a few more players. We definitely need a new bowler for one thing."

I bounce excitedly on my toes, releasing some of my pent up energy. "Oooh, I have just the man for you. My boyfriend is a brilliant bowler, he's been too busy to play much recently but he'd love to join a team now."

"Really?" Ben looked keenly up at me as he stretched out his quads. "What does he bowl?" I must have looked as puzzled as I felt as he laughed at me. "Is he a fast bowler, swing bowler, a spinner?"

I racked my brains, trying to remember more details of our late night conversation, details other than how his hair had fallen into his eyes when he started talking about playing in the park, how his eyes had shone when he described the events unfolding on the field, how they had darkened when he spoke of the camaraderie of the past, and how they flickered shut as I licked and sucked him, revelling in his gorgeous taste. "Erm, he likes bowling balls at people's goolies?" I hazard a guess.

"What you two get up to, in the privacy of your own home…" Ben laughed again. "He can bowl a googly? A spinner. Brilliant, we really need a decent leg spinner. He sounds perfect."

I grin, pride and delight merging as I think back to this morning, the final glance I made to the bed as I left, the rumple of sheets and duvet barely covering the slender body contained within, his sleepy murmured farewell, one outstretched arm lazily blowing a kiss to me as I departed. "Yeah, he is."

I bounce up the stairs to the flat, taking them two, three at a time, excitement pounding through my veins, Ben's details scrawled on a piece of paper gripped tightly in my hand. I just can't wait to tell Sy.

I burst through the door, letting it slam happily behind me and causing a low voiced moan to emerge from the duvet covered mound on the bed. I take a running leap and dive headfirst onto the firm mattress, landing slightly less gracefully than I had anticipated.

"Oof, Christian, wha—"

"Morning gorgeous." I grin, yanking the duvet back to press wet kisses along his warm neck and into the hollow of his throat. I glance across at the clock, "haven't you got to get up for prayers soon?"

"Got up. Prayed. Went back to sleep. Got woken up by some madman landing on top of me. Any more questions?" And with a quick yank, the duvet is dramatically pulled back over his head, leaving the merest hint of dark locks flashing out.

"Oooh someone's grumpy. Guess someone didn't get his eight hours last night." I singsong, moving underneath the duvet myself, kissing over the prickly stubble on his chin, sucking at the spot behind his ear that makes him shiver.

"Your bloody fault," he grumbles, speech muffled through feathers and down, but his body begins to uncurl, giving my mouth more access to lick greedily at his sleep-warm flesh. "Eurgh, Christian, you're all sweaty and hyper."

"You love me all sweaty and hyper," I tell him truthfully. "And besides, I've got good reason to be hyper, I've got fan-tas-tic news," I crow, pushing his thick rebellious curls further back and nibbling at his lobe.

"Fantastic news that you can tell me all about in a couple of hours time? Please" he asks, the slightest tinge of desperation coming through his voice but I am too excited and I know he will be too. I roll him onto his back, pinning his limbs down onto the mattress with my eager arms and swiping a kiss over his plump soft lips, smiling at the instinctive response comes from his tired yet eager body and wanting mouth.

"Too. Good. To. Wait." I pant between full, hungry, open-mouthed kisses. But as he strains his back up from the mattress to deepen the kisses and renew our connection, I pull slightly further away. "Let me tell you your good news first, and then you can thank me," I smile and then add "in whichever way you think best," my voice lowering in pitch and deepening in intensity as his eyes widen and his mouth twitches with a tantalising mixture of mirth and desire.

"My good news? Come on then, spit it out."

"You, Syed Masood, have just joined a cricket team." I beam and sit back on my haunches, still straddling Syed's naked prone body.

Syed just lies in silence, his eyes blank, his forehead creased in confusion. "Am I still asleep? Did I miss something? When did I join a cricket team? I kind of thought that was the sort of thing I might remember…."

"Right, well Ben, the new client I saw this morning, he has a team, they need a new player and so bingo! You are now an official cricket player person thing." I beam happily and lean back over, letting my eyes take their fill of Syed's body on display, covering the lightly toned muscles with my licentious intent. "So, now if you want to thank me…" I continue as I head towards his gorgeous pouti—"Fuck!" I roll back onto the bed, my hands instinctively going to cover my crotch where Syed's knee had just unceremoniously lodged itself. "Sy! What the fuck is the matter with you? Shit that hurt." I look up to see Sy leap out of bed with the kind of energy he barely possessed five minutes ago.

"What's the matter with me? What the fuck is the matter with you? You just signed me up to some cricket team without even asking me? Fuck's sake Christian." He grabbed his dressing gown and stormed into the kitchen while I continue to writhe on the bed in ill-disguised pain and no little confusion.

"But you wanted to join a team, you said so!"

"I said, that sometimes, I miss being on a team. I didn't bloody tell you to go out and find the first bloke you see and enrol me into their club." He noisily opened the kitchen cupboards, grabbing cups and clattering them onto the counter. "TEA?" he barks at me.

"Yes please." I say as contritely as I find possible. I honestly hadn't realised that it was possible to make turning a kettle on sound so furious but as it clicks on I find myself shuddering slightly from the ominous sound.

"You always know best, don't you Christian, always go leaping in, so sure that you have to run my life for me," he continues, angry tones still dominating in his voice, the teabags flying into the cups with such ferocity I find myself wincing in sympathy. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, if I wanted to play cricket I could actually have gone out and found myself a club? But noooo, not poor little Syed." The kettle clicks off and he splashes boiling water wildly into the mugs, sending half of the contents pouring out onto the counter. I bite my lip to stop myself from warning him to be careful not to scald himself.

"I'm sorry Sy," I try, sincerely. "I didn't realise…, I didn't think I guess. I just thought…"

"Thought what? That I can't make my own decisions about my life?" He grumbles, still obviously angry, but when he opens the fridge door I don't fear that it may come off the hinges, so I get up and cautiously limp over, standing behind him, not touching but near enough to feel him shiver when my breath hits the exposed skin on the back of his neck.

"I really am sorry, Sy. I thought you'd be happy, honestly. I just want you to be happy. Sorry for fucking up."

He sighs, pouring the milk into the tea more gently, and grabbing a towel to mop up the spilt water lying next to the kettle. I take this as a sign and edge nearer, tentatively moving my arms round him.

"Look, if you really don't want to do it then there's no problem, you can just call Ben and tell him you're busy. It's no big deal, honestly, I didn't sign your life away or anything."

Syed leans back into my arms and finally his tense muscles start to relax slightly, and he settles into my arms. "I know. Maybe I over-reacted a bit." I bite my lip, hard and satisfy myself with raising an eyebrow where he can't see it. "Oy, Clarke, just because I can't see you, doesn't mean I don't know what you are doing. Lower that eyebrow immediately. Maybe I overreacted just a little bit, but still, you should have asked. I haven't forgiven you yet mister."

I kiss his neck softly and hug him tighter. "I know, and I really am sorry." Syed pulls away from our embrace and hands me a cup of tea, taking his own with him over to the sofa. I sit down next to him, folding my legs underneath myself and letting the fingers of my free hand drag slowly through his tangled hair. "So, I fucked up by telling Ben you wanted to join, I know. I shouldn't have done it. I just got all over excited and stupid. But do you really not want to? Genuinely? Cos I thought you sounded so keen when we were talking and like you would love to be playing again."

Syed blows on the top of his tea and takes a sip before replying. "I do miss it, it's just… I haven't played in years, what if I'm really shit?"

I laugh with relief. "Ben's an accountant, not Freddy Flintoff in disguise! The team is just made up of ordinary blokes, you'll blow them out of the water. Not literally of course."

"And how would you know? You've never even seen me play! I'm totally out of shape."

I curl a lock around my finger and kiss him lightly on the temple. "But I do know how amazing you are, and how you put your heart and soul into everything you do. Plus, I know exactly how fit you are, and that's my professional opinion."

"Yeah, thanks for that." He rolls his eyes at me but still edges closer to me on the sofa, and his free hand starts lazily drawing circles on my leg and I think I am nearly forgiven.

"So is that it?" I ask gently. "Just worried that you might not be up to scratch?"

He pauses, sips again at his tea and then puts the cup on the coffee table and looks up at me, his hands fiddling with the tie on the dressing gown. "Does Ben know that I'm gay?"

"Uh-huh," I reply, slightly confused. "I think the bit where I called you my boyfriend probably gave it away for him."

"Yeah, that normally does the trick. And he's straight?"

"As a die."

"But he was okay with me being on the cricket team?"

A light belatedly dawns in my mind. "Oh."

"It's just that, when I played before there were always these little jokes, y'know, just insinuations about people if they messed up an easy catch or something, then it was that 'backs against the walls' bollocks in the showers and stuff. I loved playing but afterwards sometimes I just wanted to run away. I want to play, I do, but what if it is just like that all again? Except this time it wouldn't be all insinuation but aimed specifically at me, at us."

I pull him nearer so our bodies are fully entwined, my arms surrounding him, his hands now occupied with the tie on my tracksuit bottoms. "Oh baby," I murmur. "Some people are twats, there's no denying it. But if you cut yourself off from doing things that you want to do, for the sake of the twats then they've won haven't they? Not to mention the fact that you don't know that these guys are actually twats yet. Why not give them a chance to prove their twatishness rather than just assume it eh?"

Syed pauses, his hands now stroking the contours of my chest. "You know it's a wonder you've not made the step into motivational speaking yet."

"Sarky bastard."

"Yep." He kisses my chest. "Why are you so keen for me to play anyway? I can always just pick up some cricket trousers from a sports shop if that's all it is."

"Nooooo," I moan, "I have to see you playing in them, all that stretching and reaching and running around. Otherwise it's not half as much fun. And besides all that, well, you were so excited the other day, talking about it. It's not often I get to see you like that. Well apart from the obvious," I grin, running my own hand over the expanse of bare thigh flashing through the opening in his dressing gown, savouring the feel of rough hairs tickling my palm and smooth skin tingling under my fingertips. "But when you were talking I could just see you, all free and young and gorgeous, all excited and full of life. Like the Syed that I know, that I get to see every day, but out there too, for the world to see. I just want you to be happy, and I think this could make you happy."

Syed's mouth found its way up from my chest to my face, a trail of kisses that started teasingly and light before becoming longer, deeper, more intense. "Are you being extra cheesy just to get me to forgive you and play in the team?" he whispered hotly into my ear.

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"Maybe." Then he grinned. "Okay, I'll give the team a go."

I whooped with delight, my hands grabbing either side of his face and bringing his lips to mine in a spine-tingling, body-aching kiss, but as my hands moved to pull his dressing gown fully open he dragged himself away, his tongue licking the edges of his mouth as a teasing grin threatened to appear. "Oy," I pout, "where's my thank you?"

"Not so fast, you're on probation. I might be going to try out this team but that doesn't mean all is forgiven just yet. I'll go to a training session and if it goes okay then I'll give you your thank you. And until then," Syed pulled himself up off the sofa, rearranging his robe, "you'll just have to be patient won't you?" And with a smirk he strolled off into the kitchen. "Gosh, I'm ravenous. Best get some breakfast down me. You alright Christian? Seem awful quiet."

I just lean back on the sofa and groan, frustration and pleasure fighting for dominance within me. But when I think of him out there on the field, full of vitality and pure unconfined joy, then I know for sure which one wins. "Me?" I reply. "I'm fantastic."