Title: 'Never That Way'
Author: AlyJ
Email: pineapplebaby@btinternet.com
Fandom: The Bill
Pairing: euh... you'll have to read it...
Rating: PG? 12?
Archive: If you really want it....
Feedback: Oh, go on, then ;)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Give me a few years, though....
Summary: Someone's watching...
Warnings: This one carries on from the episode 'First Impressions II'. All
you need to know is, after a week of winding up the new probationers, they
get their own back by getting Nick back to Roz's flat with the intention of
seducing him. Once he's naked *Aly pauses for a moment to collect herself*
the rest of the relief jump out, armed with cameras. And someone had a video
camera...
Note: I'm blaming this solely on HellsBells, because I got the idea when
chatting to her ;) Sorry, hon :)

 

Never that Way

by Aly




A trembling hand placed the CD in the slot of the large grey desktop
computer, the pale blue light of the screen the only illumination in the
large living room. The curtains were closed against any exterior light, and
the soft glow of the computer cast large and strange-looking shadows over
the walls and furniture. The computer whirred quietly, finding the right
software for the disc's contents, then automatically started the film file.

The screen became almost black, with only a blurred, vague lightsource from
behind the cameraman to show the shadows of two people in a room. The
computer speakers picked out low whispers, soft laughter. A murmur, and then
a rustling of clothes. One of the shadows moved to the side of the camera,
pausing for a moment, before the screen was suddenly flooded with a yellow
light, and the speakers let out staticy screams and whoops from several
voices. The man quickly turned the sound dials all the way down to zero, and
watched the screen in silence. As the camera's filters adjusted to the
light, waving shapes at the side of the screen became clearer, before the
focus zoomed in on a naked young man standing in the middle of a neat living
room. Nick Klein.

Nick's eyes were open wide in shock, mouth partly open as he tried to
process the sudden intrusion and camera lens flashes. Sense breaking through
the shock, he turned, grabbing a yellow cushion from the couch to cover
himself, face flushing in embarrassment, wincing at the laughter. From one
side of the screen, a tall figure moved towards Nick, resolving into the
strong features of Dale Smith as the camera slowly zoomed in on the pair.

Dale's eyes were twinkling with suppressed laughter, mouth tweaking upwards
in a slight smile, as he handed Nick a cotton blanket, wrapping one end
around his friend's bare shoulders. Nick looked up at him, uncomfortably
vulnerable, before he caught the smiling eyes, and broke into
self-depreciating laughter. He reached up to pull the blanket further around
his body, hand over Dale's to take the thick cloth. Their touch lasted just
a little too long for their watcher, their gaze deepened just a little too
much, and the man hurriedly reached out and paused the film.

The two men were frozen on the screen, eyes locked together in a message
understood only by them. Hands together, their fingers open and slightly
interlaced. They stood close together, so close that there was almost no
space between them, and if one of them had moved, just ever so slightly,
then they would have been pressed together, bare skin against rough cloth,
feeling each other through the thin layers that separated them.

Tapping a few tabs on the keyboard, the man carefully rewound the film until
just after the camera had adjusted to the glare from the lights, then froze
the disc. On the screen, Nick was caught, frozen in time. Mouth slightly
parted, showing a gleam of teeth between his lips, eyes wide and dark
against the paleness of his skin. His throat and cheeks were slightly
flushed from arousal, his cock half-erect. Skin smooth, coloured the strange
pale yellow-brown that marked out the descendants of Eastern European Jews.
Hair across his chest covered defined pectorals, trailing in a line down his
stomach to his crotch. The hollows at the base of his throat and at his
shoulders stood out in soft shadows, not enough fat on his body to hide the
slight indentations between his bones and ribs. The watching man drew a
quick, deep breath, feeling his pulse race, a rush of desire warming his
body and leaving him feeling light, cushioned by the air.

The man leaned back in his chair, gazing at the computer screen, feeling the
tightness in his trousers as he slowly grew hard. Slouching further into the
chair, he carefully unbuttoned his shirt, letting the material fall back
against his sides, hands ghosting briefly over aching nipples. Eyes still on
the screen, he unzipped his trousers, letting his cock stand free, hard and
desperate for attention.

He focussed his attention on the frozen lips before him, wondering how they
felt, how they would kiss. Perhaps passionate, hungry, aching for contact
with his own. Maybe soft, gentle, caring when no one else could be. He
wondered if they would feel different to various parts of his body, if his
throat would feel the same touch as his lips, if his chest would rise up to
meet that mouth as hungrily as his own. And what those lips would feel like
against his cock, if they would kiss slowly along its length, teasing, or if
they would swallow it in hunger, aching to be used just as he ached to use
them.

His hand drifted down to his cock, wanting to feel something against it,
needing the contact, but at his light touch, he came hard, the orgasm taking
him by surprise, breath caught in his throat as his body shook and became
rigid. Semen spurted across his stomach and hand, hot even against his
flushed skin, and he moaned in disappointment that it hadn't lasted long,
that he was once again denied the pleasure, the outlet, that he so
desperately craved.

In his frustration, he hit the keyboard, and the film came to life again,
filling the dark room with pale flickering colours. Reaching out his clean
hand to stop the film, it paused again on the frame of Nick and Dale, hands
touching in an intimate gesture, alone even in a room full of people, each
oblivious to how the other felt but knowing that there was something there,
that something was happening between them; hesitant that someone else would
see, but breathlessly excited in their discovery. They seemed to fit, to
complete one another, and the look that passed between them seemed to claim
them exclusively for each other.

Slowly, the man reached out with his semen-covered hand, and traced Nick's
face with his fingertips, ignoring the static feel of the screen, but
feeling only cold, hard glass where he wanted to feel warm skin and laughing
breath.

He stared into those eyes, soft gaze not looking at him, never looking at
him, attention only ever on Dale, that special, shy smile only for Dale, and
the man pulled back, leaving a smear of semen across the screen. He flicked
on the desk lamp, blinking for a moment in the harsh light, feeling suddenly
exposed now that he could see his own half-naked body. He stared around the
room, at the neatly framed and labelled photographs on the walls, the
alphabetically organised books on the perfectly painted bookshelves, the
intricately designed and painted railway on the large table in the centre of
the space behind him.

Then back at the computer screen again, into those laughing brown eyes that
would never look at him that way, seeing the smile never meant for him to
see.

Reg lowered his head and began to weep.



 


 

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