Summary: Chryed: The story.

Description: So I've been rewatching all of Chryed from the very beginning and have been writing many drabbles, and tying them in with many little drabbles I wrote the first time around. There's 3-5 drabbles in each chapter, mostly off-screen scenes with a few bookmarks, all connected by three little words.

Episode References: Those relevant and not obvious will be included at the beginning of each part.

A/N: Thank y'all for your lovely welcome back from the last fic, reviews are love. Big thanks to the lovely individuals who use youtube ;)

Disclaimer: This fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC. No money is being made and no offense is intended. Characters are of legal age for sexual situations.

Chapter One "I Love You": Up to and including mutual ILY.

Secrets shared in the press of bodies – three parts.

Part one.

Eyes spark in locked gaze. His emerald eyes are sharp, tinged with lust. He steals my breath in a simple brush of his lips against mine. He fills me entirely. He is beautiful and he makes me insatiable. His name falls from my lips in gentle surrender. In his arms, there is only sensation. Cells buzz and taste lingers. Up here in his flat is a world in which we are, only. In his bed we are safe.

He moves slowly within me, the passion building in each gentle slide. He moves as though I am breakable, as though my passion can shatter if he dives for what we both want, need. But my heart hammers impatiently in my chest and I am greedy. We have been here, our bodies worshipping, for an eternity surely? Dimly I realise the minuscule time that has passed as the winter's early sun is still setting. But it feels like he has held me on the brink of surrender for a lifetime. He is driving me mad with want as his bucks inside me brush consistently against my desire, but not enough, not anywhere near deep enough, hard enough, fast enough.

Desperate to make him realise the strength of my passion I place my hands on his sculpted arms, pushing him around. I carefully hold the sensation of him inside me as my legs flex around his. He moans long and hard as the new position allows us more connection. His tensed thighs and firm butt fill the space between my calves.

Finding confidence in a hiss of air and spark of gaze, I move quicker above him. My name from his lips is a plea, a reward, and I work harder for him. My eyes gorge on perfection - moonlight shines against his curved tanned body, highlights his darkened lust-blown eyes and that soft parted-lip smile. My smile. His hips meet my slides and my head snaps back. I grasp breath away from the sensational sight of him. Passion curls compulsively around me, and I feel my dick throb against him.

He orders my gaze for himself, and as I comply I feel his fingers work around my cock. I dissolve inside the power of us. I see the lights of completion sparkle in his eyes and I allow him deeper and deeper inside me, holding him for longer, fighting for his surrender. I squeeze against his heated cock and he grits his teeth, his passion evident in his locked jaw. I graze his chin with my teeth, my mouth moving to his fluttering pulse, I suck against his skin and he curses. I watch his climax in his eyes, his loss of reality, and it is then that I give him all. He whispers benedictions at his highest point. I feel his cock throb and release inside me. My body quakes my own completion.

It is only after that I realise the words that fell between his lips, a promise between my heart and his: "I love you."

It catches on a never ending loop in my mind as his arms lock me against his chest. It is sharp and hard and selfish, oh so selfish. But…pure. The words sit in the tension in my muscles, but also in my soft concealed smile. I hear his swift intake of breath and know he has realised what he promised. I know that in just a moment he will take the words back with a bad a joke and a forced laugh, and I will laugh too as I must, because this cannot be anything. I know that in a moment we will pretend we have forgotten and it will not be mentioned again. I know that it must be like this, because with him there is no future and no present for me. But until then I will allow the words to burn upon my heart, indenting the memory of us.

Part two (before Christian's declaration at Denise's wedding.)

"Tell me you want me."

"Christian…"

"Tell me you want me."

The grooves of bricks press hard into my spine. His strong thigh, between my legs, is tensed for my pleasure. His breath waves across me. I am drenched in the sensation of him, and I no longer care that we are here, celebrating the wedding of my mother's friend. We are away from the privacy of us, but treasured in the shadows.

"I want you," the impetuous truth rushes, lifts a smirk against his lips.

"I know."

A ripple of tensed muscle as underneath the reserved barrier of my shirt, his hand slides down my torso.

"I can feel you, and not just like this – out there earlier; I could feel the lust in your eyes."

He reads the concealed blush of my skin, the momentary flicker to the worried thoughts of others.

"I could Sy, because I know you," he growls, easily pulling me back to him. "I know you better than anyone else, better than all that lot out there. I know the taste of you, the smell of you." His voice tightens at memories.

"I know what you look like when you beg."

"I've never begged!" I insist, desperate for one thought that shows that he has not owned all of me.

"I can hear you, earlier…I can still hear you."

In the hard emeralds that have seen me at my weakest and at my highest, I see myself, lost to sin, my legs shaking around his hips as he waits, temptingly pausing my completion.

"God Sy, what you do to me," he growls.

He dives for my lips with nips and sucks. I allow him, more, I tempt him, widening my mouth for the probe of his tongue, my hands wrapping his hair.

Suddenly as if remembering himself, our game, he pulls away, his eyes still slammed shut. I lose my breath as the emeralds emerge to shine again. In the dark he is glorious.

"I know you, Sy. And I know what you want to say to me, what we want to say to each other."

My breath catches on the words that play silent on his lips. We have shared them, in looks and touches and kisses. We have shared the truth in harsh night-time cries, in small private laughs and in bright secret smiles, but his lips have only once graced the presence of the words.

"Shall I tell you then? Shall I say it now? Here?"

My eyes dare to take in our surroundings once more, the back alley of our local, before his stare pulls me back. I am nowhere but in his connection.

"You know what I mean don't you? I know you heard me the last time. I wanna say it again, here. I wanna say it everywhere." Those last words escape his lips as though he didn't mean to let them go.

A breath of surrender is shared.

"Do you want me to?"

I crave for the words he hints at, for that touch of the purest honesty. But in the same moment I wish them never to be said - for that bond never to be made.

"Sy?"

Suddenly light from an opening door floods the secrecy of us. At our interruption his jaw tenses for a silent groan that I feel throughout me.

"Later, then;" he whispers as he creates space between us.

Another enters our space and we are lost

"Evening Ronnie," The greeting from his lips floods our lust with submission and shame.

Part Three.

"I. Love. You"

Three simple words fall into the fissure of my life and yet again I am balancing on a precipice. Part of me makes another bid for home, for family and identity. The half of me that is only his clings to the truth echoed in the racket of the winter's market.

"I tell you what you can whisper it if you want to, if that helps…"

All he asks for is my honesty, but it is not mine to give. To do so would deny the rest. I could never give him all of me – he cannot ask for it.

"….just say it."

My mouth is forbidden to speak; those words are never to be passed from my lips to his. I search desperately for a way to tell him. I crave to take his hand, create our hold so he can feel the words he needs so badly. But in our reality-weakened world there is only one response I can give, and I beg without words that he read the truth in my eyes, the way that he has from the very first moment. It is only ever him that has always seen all that I am.

His eyes drop - I smash his heart in our failed connection. Purely he needs my words and in my silence I break him. The half of me that is his screams at the unjust lie that stands now, between us.

So I let my lips move, better he breaks my life than I his heart.

"I love you."

And with the pureness of our honesty not yet destroyed, the half of me that is only ours cherishes his smile. It was never all of me that I could give to him, but it is all of me that he has taken.