This chapter is from Syed's POV. Hope you enjoy!

xxx

He sets me on fire. I have no other words to describe what it is he does to me. His hands burn a fiery trail on my skin and I arch up to meet them, like a flower turning toward the sun. He is my sun, the one my world turns around, or at least he is when I'm with him like this, in his bed. His stubble grazes my heated skin as he rubs his cheek on my flank and I can't help but shiver in delight.

Rivulets of sweat run down my chest, my back, my legs, but they do nothing to cool my feverish skin. I've become the flame and his touches are what keep me alive.

He's using his tongue now, lapping at my skin in long, sensuous strokes. He licks his way up my legs, eliciting multiple gasps as he reaches higher and higher and… oh god… The pleasure surging through my body is so intense that it is actually painful. I am one big bundle of need, so much need, for his hands, his tongue, his mouth, for him…

'Christian…'

The name escapes me in a sob. The salty moistness on my cheeks might be sweat or tears or a mixture of both. It doesn't matter. All that matters is the flame that burns us, consuming everything in its path. I am so hot right now, yet I still try and get nearer to the heat that is radiating from Christian's body. All I want, all I need is more.

Impatient, I push him off of me and roll with him so I land on top of him. He lets himself be rolled on his back, looking at me with piercing eyes and his lips curled up slightly in an indulgent smile. I lean into him and take his lips in a heated kiss. Our tongues slide, swipe and curl together like in a torrid dance and I feel myself harden even further. I wriggle down a bit so I can feel his erection pressed up against mine and I heave a small, contented sigh. Christian uses my temporary distraction to change our kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth this time and quickly taking over. A small sound of protest is all I can make before I'm pinned underneath him again with my arms flung over my head.

I would object to the thwarting of my plans, except I see no reason to. Why would I, when he kisses me like that? When his calloused hands send shivers of pleasure through me as they rake all over my body? When his cock slides up and down against mine, causing a delicious friction? No, I have no objection to this. None at all.

He takes his mouth from mine and I whine in disappointment. I can feel him smile against my cheek and I sigh as he starts a trail of wet kisses down my neck and along my collarbone. I yelp in protest as he nips at my collarbone, but hum contentedly as he soothes the bite mark with a soft kiss and a swipe of his tongue. He buries his head in the crook of my neck and whispers my name over and over again.

'Sy… My beautiful, beautiful Sy…'

The words are repeated, sometimes clear, sometimes more like incoherent sounds. He sniffs me and sighs, sounding so pleased with himself, so pleased with me, that my toes curl with pleasure and I thrust my hips up to brush my cock against his urgently. It startles him, like he'd forgotten what we were doing for a moment, but then he lifts his head and looks at me with a lazy smile, making my heart thump loudly.

His eyes never straying from mine, he scrambles up onto his knees and nestles himself between my spread thighs. He takes hold of my legs and pulls me closer. I look up at him unblinking, giving him the full force of the naked desire I know is reflected in my eyes. He swallows and looks at me with something close to reverence. I give him a wicked smile and push my arse up against his groin, urging him to get a move on. His movements become frenzied now, rushing through his preparations with no more than his fingers and a little spit. I don't care.

'Hurry up,' I pant, pushing myself on his fingers shamelessly.

His delighted laugh startles me for a moment before I throw my head back and laugh with him.

'Get a move on,' I urge him teasingly.

He leans down and kisses me slowly. Pulling back, he smiles at me and says: 'As you wish gorgeous'.

He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. I stare at him in wonderment until my thoughts are disrupted by his cock, slowly sliding inside me. I hiss my breath at the initial pain, but it quickly subsides as it always does and I relax.

Christian holds still for only a moment before he starts moving back and forth. Before long, he is pounding into me and I am uttering incoherent sounds of encouragement.

'Yes, God yes, please just… Yes, right there and… oh god, faster, please… Christian please…'

His answer comes in a stream of incomprehensible words of his own.

'Sy… you're so… love you, love you so much… Beautiful, so beautiful… Need you, have to…'

The words don't make a lot of sense but we understand each other just the same.

I cry out as he hits my prostate over and over again. I'm strung so tight that I can't understand how I'm holding on still. My hands touch every part of him I can reach, his hips, his arse, his thighs… So close, god I'm so close…

xxx

'Syed? Syed babe, wake up please, you're scaring me! Are you alright?'

The voice comes as if from far away but still manages to intrude into my private world, making me resent it before I recognise it fully. Amira. All of a sudden the last traces of my dream are ripped away from me as I realise where I am and who is lying next to me in this miserable excuse for a honeymoon suite.

'I'm fine. Just… bad dreams,' I mumble truthfully. Well, sort of.

She looks at me with a concerned frown. I shift discreetly to hide my erection beneath the flimsy white sheet.

'Are you feeling sick again?' she asks. 'You look awful. That stomach bug has really done a number on you hasn't it'.

Only a tiny flash of guilt hits me before it is flushed away with a gulf of relief as I seize the perfect excuse.

'Yes, it's horrible,' I agree, trying to sound miserable.

'Poor darling,' she says. 'You look absolutely terrible. All hot and sweaty. Do you have a fever?'

She reaches out a hand to lay on my cheek, but I quickly move away from her.

'Sorry, bathroom…' I mumble.

I get up carefully, picking up the robe that is lying on the floor next to the bed to cover myself from her eyes.

'Are you going to be sick again?' she calls after me. 'Perhaps you should take a shower. You know, cool down a bit'.

I give her a noncommittal sound as an answer and quickly lock the bathroom door behind me. The first thing I do is turn on the shower, the cascading water immediately drowning out any sound coming through the bathroom door. My eyes avoid the mirror as I flush the toilet to complete my cover story and then take off my robe and pants and step into the large shower.

Water pummels down at me from several directions. Ridiculously fancy shower, I think, shaking my head. I shiver as the warm water makes contact with my skin that is still so heated that the water feels cool in comparison. Flashes of my dream come back to me and I groan as I remember the feel of his hands all over me, his tongue, his lips… Without conscious thought, my hand has wrapped itself around my throbbing cock and is leisurely moving up and down the shaft. I'm still so hard from my dreams that I need but a few careful strokes to come spectacularly, splattering white fluid all over the slate tiles. I bite my hand to stifle a cry and watch while the water washes all evidence of my treason away.

Now that the heat and urgency has gone, I feel deflated. Is this going to be the rest of my life? Making excuses to my wife as I dream of someone else? God, why does my life have to be so complicated? Why can't I look at my beautiful wife and be happy? Why can't I make myself hold her, touch her…

I can't even finish that thought without feeling the bile rise up in my throat. I felt sick with relief last night, stepping into bed with her, knowing we'd be going home today and I'd managed to survive our honeymoon without sharing more than a few pecks and a couple of quick hugs. That supposed stomach bug has been a godsend, I wonder how long I can make it last once we're back in England… Not long, I realise. I'm only postponing the inevitable and I know it.

I'm pretty sure Amira suspects that something else is wrong. Of course she does, though she hasn't said anything. Not yet… She looks at me with eyes full of hurt and insecurity at times, a look that makes me cringe like the coward I am.

The honeymoon has been a nightmare. I managed to avoid catastrophe as the hotel manager tried to put us in one of those honeymoon cabins at the beach. I almost started to hyperventilate, thinking about what it would be like to be isolated like that, just me and her, with nothing to do but eat, sleep, lay in the sun and… not have sex. It would have driven me insane. I absolutely refused, concocting some tsunami phobia story and demanding a room in the main building.

It was one in a row of many disappointments for Amira. Of course I managed to talk her round, using this very bathroom as one of my most convincing arguments. The cabin had only sparse furniture and a plain bathroom. This room, though nothing special, at least has a luxurious bathroom.

And now we'll be going home in a couple of hours. We'll be living in Mum's house, with Mum knowing what she knows… I don't think I'll be able to stand it. We've talked on the phone briefly a couple of times, but mostly she just asks to speak to Amira. I can hear the forced cheerfulness in her voice, stronger even when Dad is standing beside her.

Neither one of them has mentioned Christian. But from a text from Tam, I know he's still there. He told me Christian has quit and I couldn't help but feel relieved. Having to see him every day, knowing what we've shared in that place… And what we'll never share again. The thought hits me like a blast to the chest. I bend double, feeling like I'm choking.

My knees buckle beneath me and I let myself slide down to the cool floor. Why does it get to me, every single time? I know I'll never be able to be with him again, I know that. I've known that for a long time. Yet every time I remember that, it hits me as hard as it did the first time. How am I going to do this? My life is such a mess… What am I going to do? What can I do?

Ten minutes later I've dried myself off and quietly sneak back into the bedroom. Amira's drifting in and out of sleep, mumbling something about if I'm feeling any better, before drifting away again. I take one look at my side of the bed, the sheets all crumpled up and slightly damp looking, and decide to try and catch some sleep on the living room sofa instead. I check the time. Only six hours until our flight. Only six hours until I'm on my way back…

xxx

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