AN: I am writing Things Left Unsaid but I wanted a quick pick-me-up so wrote this wee one-shot. It's just a little something to cheer myself up but figured I'd share it anyway. Written very quickly so apologies.
Syed's POV, set during Tam's birthday party in the Vic last year. Cue muchos flirting and eyesex from the lovely Chryed. Enjoy?
My eyes search round the busy pub, seeking his, craving him. Anxiously I twist and turn, restlessly scanning the room filled with people and music and chatter until….at last. He arrives and I feel the relief-tinged anticipation fill me. He saunters, confident, controlled, strong and my blood runs hot in my veins. His unashamed gaze meets my craving eyes, and my world shrinks. Intense green eyes flicker desire over me, casting quick glances over me and I feel more exposed than ever; the covering of clothes providing no protection over his penetrating stare. I smile, and drop my head to try to hide the heavy flush that filters across my face. I cannot touch him, he cannot hear my words, but our unspoken thoughts are heavy across the gap between us.
Eyes fixed in place, never leaving responsive eyes. Searching within for an answering call, a mutual need. Seeing the man on display and the man held captive within. Waiting, longing, but still savouring the wait.
We have stayed away from each other for too long. I talk with Tamwar's friends, I hear him laugh with Amira. Wherever I am, I sense his presence, a soothing balm and a bundle of electric excitement combined. He catches my eye now and again and my body aches, but I resist the desperate urge to rush to his side. I wait, letting the anticipation fizz through my veins. Standing at the bar, I feel him arrive beside me, but a gentle press of his flat palm on my back is his only greeting. As if I were a friend. As if we were both unaware of how I thrill to his slightest touch.
Hands reach out and fingers slowly, carefully, run down over clothed bodies that stand so near but yet still apart. The merest, tenderest touches of fingertips on cloth sends shivers over flesh. In the stillness and the quietness, breathing shallows and heartbeats race.
"Drink?" I offer, sneaking a glimpse to my side to catch his eyes staring at my lips. His own curve upwards into a heart-thumping grin and I bite down hard on mine.
"Don't mind if I do." He leans across the bar to grab Ronnie's attention, his body moving nearer to mine, filling the final few centimetres that separate us.
A step. Bodies aligned. Chests fill with air as legs edge nearer. Hands pause, allowing bodies to find their match. Rough denim coated thigh rubs against rough denim coated thigh. Tight cotton t-shirt caresses crisp cotton shirt. Standing still, while the world spins a dizzy orbit.
We drink, we watch. Watch each other as we laugh and talk, as we move seamlessly into our private bubble. I shake a recalcitrant lock of hair out of my eyes and he watches, his fingers flexing with frustration by his side. He tips his drink back and I watch the moisture settle on his lips, the small drop that misses and slides down the side of his mouth, chased and captured by the flick of his tongue. I gulp back my desire.
A breath away. A hot desperate gasping breath away. Leaning forward, fingers pushing back hair, tongue emerging with soft touches, licking a path along the edge of lips. Senseless, a touch forcing weakness, aching passion producing strength. A different hand, stroking down the side of a perfect face, absorbing the feel of trembling skin under shaking fingertips. Chin tilted, wet lips open, their needful call answered with delight.
He notices my attempt at composure and smirks, repeating the act, this time with a conscious slowness to his actions, relishing in the way I try to force my longing eyes away from him before his magnetic pull draws me inevitably back again.
"Bastard." I mutter and he laughs. Oh but two can play that game Mr. Clarke, I think to myself. My hand reaches up to the buttons on my shirt, pointedly fiddling, twisting the button back and forth through the buttonhole, finally undoing completely, letting the tiniest of gaps emerge, hidden from the sight of all but him. But his attention is total and complete, staring wide-eyed and hungry at my movements. I feel the hot heat of his gaze burn this fragment of skin and my flush threatens to overtake my face as the reality of where we are hits me. But I draw breath and calm myself, and ever-so-casually refasten the button, returning it to a more demure state and smoothing my palms down the front of my shirt. He bites his lip, swearing quietly yet determinedly through his gritted teeth, before grinning broadly again.
"One-all" he whispers in my ear.
Fingers move from face, from hair, from tight grip on tight t-shirt to properly fastened buttons. Slowly at first, gently pushing through tight holes, revealing lust-flushed skin to desire-heavy eyes. Then faster, as needful, stumbling fingers force haste, barely avoiding the rip, the tear of uncooperative fabric until finally the restrictive barrier is lying, forgotten, on the floor.
"So, got any plans for later tonight then?" I ask, moving us from dangerous games, yet still taking advantage of the loud music to edge closer than necessary to him, letting my body brush slightly past him as I do so.
"Well…there is this fit bloke I know, wouldn't might see if he fancies coming over…." His smile hits his eyes, teasing mine.
"And what if he has other plans?"
"Bet they wouldn't be half as tempting as me." My eyes drop from his gaze for a second, trying to give my body a chance to recover.
"So you expect this bloke just to drop everything for you?"
"Oh no, Syed," He shakes his head with mock sadness at me, the corners of his mouth still upturned. "He shouldn't drop everything, I'm always ready to lend a hand where necessary."
Strong hands push away lean fingers, moving smoothly around denim waist, stroking fabric covered want, unfastening, unzipping, removing, exposing, releasing. Answering hands grab at that which attempts to conceal taut muscles and hardened flesh. The floor lies covered, bodies press together bare.
He leans passed me to put his empty glass on the bar, his body making the slightest of touches to mine but it is his heat that hits me. My flesh tingles, my fingers itch to touch him, my body craves to find his heat with my own. He pulls back but the heat of his body remains as a constant unneeded and always wanted reminder.
Bodies press warmth into exposed flesh, chilly air kept at bay by burning desire. Hands move over goosebumped skin, caressing, warming. Flushes of want grow ever deeper while heated mouths lick fevered paths over sensitised need.
"Anyway," he grins, "I'm sure I can make it worth his while."
"Oh yeah?" I am cool, calm and composed. I have control. I have. "How's that?"
"I have my ways." He leans nearer, his voice low, tremulous, sending shivers through my nerves.
Cries and moans fill the air, heavy with a resplendent desire that needs nothing except fulfilment. Low murmurs of delight follow the slightest of movements by bodies, hands, mouths. Quiet words of encouragement, desperate gasps of rapture, aching exclamations of sheer pleasure. Sweet low tender whispers of indistinct words and unmistakable meaning that cause already fragile attempts at composure to shatter.
He pulls back to show off the smirk that coats his face. I laugh and shake my head at him. "Pretty full of yourself aren't you?"
"Not always."
Dark lean fingers, coated and slick, reaching and pushing, penetrating, sending shivers of tremulous pleasure through prone craven body, while clashes of tongues urge for more. Whimpers of loss when fingers withdraw but as bodies' positions adjust they turn instead to pillow-muffled cries of the pleasurable pain and paradisaical joy that comes from the most welcome of intrusions. Deliberate slow movements of lithe slender strong hips, following their natural and instinctive songless dance brings waves of bliss crashing over and over and over.
Reddened flush threaten my cheeks but I lean back on the bar, finding solace in its firm support and simultaneously granting myself the pleasure of revelling in the full view of him. "I'm sure if he can get away then he will."
"Really? Well I promise that he'll enjoy himself. In fact, I'll make it my personal mission."
"I don't think that is in any doubt."
"I do aim to please."
Actions become more frantic, desperate vigour increasing desire, heightening need, swelling intensity in an ever onward cycle of ecstasy. Strong, muscular back tenses and responds and pushes and sends spirals of euphoric bliss flooding through the still thrusting red hot heat of unthinking shuddering grasping stupefying flesh.
I move back closer, I tell myself that it is to keep our conversation private, not because I cannot bear even this smallest of distance. "Oh I bet you do."
"Well it's only fair, after all he pleases me." His eyes meet mine, his tongue touches his lip. "Trust me, he always pleases me."
Sudden uncontrollable shudders from above run through taut frame, like electricity seeking the earth. Droplets of sweat fall, hissing on impact with burning flesh. Hands move from their tight grip on firm hips and reach round, grasping, smoothing, caressing over heated desire. The tender touch of silken fingertips eliciting wanton helpless moans as lights explode into dazzling falling stars in front of eyes screwed tightly shut.
"And," He continues, smoothing his hand over his short hair, "if he comes over then I might get the chance to tell him how gorgeous he looks."
"Haven't you told him that before?" I query, raising an eyebrow.
"Not tonight. And I don't think I could ever tell him enough. Especially when he wears a leather jacket."
"Maybe if you are really good, he'll tell you whether he thinks you are gorgeous or not."
"Oooh, I'd love to hear more about that."
"You don't know what he's going to say."
"Well he's hardly going to call me a minger."
I laugh and pretend his incorrigible arrogance had failed to send ten thousand watts of exhilarating desire through my body. "No-one ever called you modest did they? If you're so sure about what he's going to say then maybe he won't bother."
And I make as if to leave but before I have had the chance to move he leans into me again, his voice low and suddenly more serious. "I'd love to hear anything he has to say."
"Well," I begin, moving even closer to him.
Hunger sated, torpid bodies collapse onto the bed, onto each other. Quietness returns as sweat cools. Calming breaths fill the still air. Arms enclose tender bodies as they seek sanctuary in the familiar comfort of soothing embrace. Fingers dawdle lazily over damp locks, down toned muscles. Hushed words fall casually, half formed sentences left unfinished, slipping into the halcyon atmosphere. Private worlds are formed for dreamlike indulgence.
My mouth is paused at his ear, his body so close to mine I can feel the steady drumbeat of his heart pounding through our clothes. But Amira's shriek drags me back to the busy pub and I see Tam reeling from her slap. I pull away and run to sort out my brother and my fiancée, while Christian stands behind us, laughing at the scene.
Bleak winds whistle through draughty rooms. Two lonely bodies shiver as they lie in two cold beds.