Title: “Fixated, And Fixed….”
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: PG
Pairing: Stuart/Vince
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do….
Summary: A look inside Vince’s mind following the *it* that changes everything….
Notes: Feeling a bit rusty, and don’t know if this comes across as anything but the gibberish of a mind at 2:24 AM - but thought I’d give it a try before the challenge in June. Thanks to Mistress Teri for the read through - see what happens when you’re still online so late at night???
Dedication: For Alexis. Surprise!!! It’s small, and probably not too well done. But I thought you needed a little prezzie after the events of your week.
Fixated, And Fixed…
By xof
April 24, 2005
They changed every minute; the fixations going through Vince’s head. The sound of another’s voice, the curl of his hair, the line of his back, the grace of his hands, the fire of his drive, the force of his eyes. A never ending catalogue of reasons why….
Fixation, obsession, hobby….
Well, hobby was what Vince called it, teasingly and fondly - at least on a public level when asked how he had managed to put up with the whirlwind for so long. Though it galled the object of his focus no end when their friends and family had a go at him for being on par with macramé and stamp collecting.
But internally, ultimately - and intimately - Vince had long ago confessed to himself his own nature.
It was true.
He was fixated for life on the person, the man that was Stuart Alan Jones.
Friend for more than half his life, and now lover of only one night.
Tonight.
Fixed to be his for every night thereafter. For now that Vince had had the taste, the touch, the feel of having it all - it wasn’t a question of ever letting go….
Good thing, too. That Stuart felt the same, that is….
Having started it in fact, by pulling Vince in and with him as they’d crossed the boundaries that had been their last undiscovered country.
Vince had thought - ok, dreamed, fantasized and even wanked-off to - about every scenario he could come up with for the possibility that the what-if would one day be an oh-my-god-it’s-happening-now.
Every one, but the actual one.
And so after half a life of coming to, at times, unsettling terms with the plausibility of it being an impossibility, Vince was drawn over and into the most important moment of either of their lives with one look. A quiet moment with just them on a night like any other when Stuart fixed his eyes on Vince - held his gaze just a touch too long to deny or look away, and then with the smallest nod as if answering a question he was asking himself in his own head - Stuart leaned in and touched his lips to Vince’s own.
It was with the passing of but a few words in whispered brogue, “Let me,” and the press of the flat of Stuart’s tongue over his mouth as he was tasted, that Vince found himself allowing, accepting, risking and rewarding them their future as the newness of their further journey began.
Hours later now, they lay wrapped close in a tangle of sheets on Stuart’s bed. The absence of pillows that had been abandoned without care to fall on the floor, unnoticed as Stuart slept with his head resting atop Vince’s tummy. And by Vince, who remained awake and looking at him in the half light of the sole lamp still lit just across the way.
Looking, thinking…. And feeling like a part of him that had been unknowingly broken, was whole.
Fixated, and now fixed.
Finis