Title: In Each Other's Arms
Author/pseudonym: xof
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Pairing: Vince Tyler/Stuart Alan Jones

Rating: NC-17
Status: New/Complete
Archive: Yes. Please.
Feedback: xof@rose.net
Series/Sequel: Sequel to "Our World".

Disclaimers: I don't own these characters. I presume that Channel 4 and Russell D. do.

Notes: This story was written due to the absolutely overwhelmingly positive and encouraging response to the first story "Our World." I strongly recommend putting pen to paper for these boys. They deserve it and we all crave for more. If you even have one story idea that you think would do well, please try and put it down for us all. This fandom needs a good kick in the arse. LOL

Summary: Stuart's morning after the night before. Decision time.

Warnings: Spoilers for the entire first series. I haven't seen the second series yet (though I know what happens . . . NOT ENOUGH!!!) so this is an AU slash feature presentation. And since I'm American to boot, please forgive any mistakes on my part when it comes to grammar. Feedback is more than welcomed (pleeeeeaaaaaaaaassssseeee) LOL.





(April 6, 2000)

Waking that morning proved to be a smoother ride than most. Stuart didn't feel the jerk of sudden, albeit dazed wakefulness which was his usual ritual after a night out. Instead, he drifted comfortably into consciousness. As his mind moved forward, he recognized the languid ease that flowed through his muscles. He'd definitely been shagged, half out of his skin by the feel. He chuckled softly. Wonder when the bloke had left, he thought knowing without having to open his eyes that he was alone in the bed. He didn't hear anyone moving around the flat. Good. One less pain to deal with besides his routine hangover.

One thing though . . . he figured out pretty fast that he didn't have a hangover. He wasn't coming down off anything either, so the struggle to open his eyes was won fairly quickly. Yep. He was in his bed, sprawled on his stomach upside down and across it to be exact. Stuart blinked back at the clock. 9:36A.M. "Shit. Obscene time to be alive on a weekend." So here he was irrevocably up for the count on a Saturday morning without having any harsh after-affects from the night before . . . except he had the strongest feeling that he should remember something. Or someone.

Shaking his head, Stuart sat up in bed and made to stand up when he was blind-sided by memories. He literally fell back onto the bed, tangled once more in his sheets . . . the sheets that he now recognized as baring the scent of both himself and his best friend. The cologne had been a gift from him at Vince's birthday party. A cover gift so Vince wouldn't suspect K9 later in the evening. Privately Stuart had enjoyed the idea of giving Vince something that would mark him as his own, especially since he'd expected the night's shock tactic to be their farewell to friendship. And now . . . that very scent was mingled irrevocably with his own, calling forth the memory of last night. Oh my god . . . and what must have been early this morning too.

He'd shagged Vince. Vince had had him. Hell. They'd had some of the hottest sex he could remember ever having . . . and it had been with Vince. Sober sex at that. No excuses. No roads of escape. And no forgetting. Even as the thoughts crossed his mind, Stuart knew instantly that he had no desire to forget or escape last night. He'd been very sure of his course when they'd arrived at his place. The "shag" factor had been hanging silently in the background from the first moment he's seen Vince at the club. One cock of the man's thumb towards the platform and he'd known that the years of "what if" and "will it ever" questions were blown to the moon.

So only one question stood.

"Now what?" Last night had been phenomenal and surprising. Seeing the desire build in his friend . . . the flush and the joy Vince had shown at his touch. It was all so much more than he'd ever thought it would have been. And then feeling the quick-fire of his passion in return.

Cameron had blasted Stuart for knowing Vince wanted him and never acting on it, of stringing him along for pride and vanity's sake. It had been the truth. He had known for years. And for years he had liked knowing it. Seeing Vince look at him with barely suppressed desire was a familiar gift in his life. Sure it might make him a bastard for having needed it, but leaving that part of their relationship untouched had been his treasure in times of self-doubt. Because Vince loved him. And no matter how he'd fucked up over time, that always remained true and unchanging.

Until last night. He'd known something was going to happen, that arse Cameron be damned . . . Vince was his. Hearing that Vince had ended things with the Aussie was all the push fate needed to provide. Even now in the morning after, Stuart felt the burn from their heat the night before. Reaching back, he massaged his shoulder . . . tracing the imprint of Vince's bite. Hmm. Now that had been a real surprise. Who could have guessed that shy awkward little Vince Tyler would be such a tiger in bed? The rimming not withstanding, there had been the moment he'd been restrained and then fucked with the fierceness of one grasping at what he'd always anguished for…

Feeling the fullness starting to rise at his groin, Stuart rose to grab a quick shower. He'd think about the "what now" in there. He got all of three steps before he was stopped by the video camera tripod. What in the hell is that doing here? He knew he hadn't taken it out last night. Shit, that would have freaked Vince out of the shag faster than the knock on the door from his mum had when they were fourteen. But then why was his cell phone on top of the camera?

Taking the outfit down, he found that the tape was almost full. What the hell had Vince done?

Stuart grabbed a quick shower before wandering into the living naked as he pleased. He put the tape on and walked over to pull on his black boxer briefs. The sound of Vince's voice had him back across the room in ten quick strides. "I think this is the best look you've ever had. Sated and tangled in twisted sheets." Stuart paused the tape quickly. He looked at the image of Vince's face for the longest time. He wanted to know what Vince was going to say, but . . . the expression on Vince's face. He was radiant. The sparkle of his kind eyes. He was smiling so beautifully. The satisfaction glowed forth from the flush of his skin. The words he'd once heard uttered in self-defense from Vince played across his mind, "I'll have you know I'm dead good lookin.' I was told." And there he was sitting naked on Stuart's bed with mused hair, morning stubble and the slightly goofy look of the well shagged . . . Jesus, he was beautiful.

The best compliment he'd ever given Vince was telling him to remember that he was "fabulous." There was so much more to his friend than that, as these past two days were showing him in folds. Taking a breath, he rewound the tape and started it again. He listened intently to everything, hearing the honesty of the words and feeling the courage behind their frankness. They echoed through his head. "The funny thing is that now that it's actually happened, I want to do nothing but look at you." Shit. "I can still feel you." God. "I love you." I know.

And then . . .

Vince pounced . . . really. Stuart relived every touch, taste . . . lick and penetration through the camera's eye. They looked so hot together. It had felt so good to give himself over to Vince . . . to have him take Stuart's body into oblivion. Damn . . . he made me beg. I never beg. But then until last night I never . . . Vinced, either.

He would never have believed this of Vince. The black tie, the video . . . the tears. Oh god. Stuart watched himself lost in the rush towards orgasm. He'd seen that before. He watched Vince possessing him, embracing him . . . losing and winning everything in a moment filled with sex and love. He heard the shouts as they mingled . . . and felt it again as Vince screamed into his flesh.

He sat quietly, hugging his own body as he took in the aftermath. He saw himself released from the bonds that had allowed him to be open completely to the moment. He watched Vince sooth him into sleep and hold him in his arms. And finally, Stuart watched as his friend rose to speak his mind…

"You hold so much of my heart in your hand." The words continued to flow, the decision of which path their future would take left up to his choice. He'd never expected this of Vince. The bravery and grace of the gift he'd been given.

Stuart paused the video again before Vince moved to shutoff the feed. Friend. And would-be lover. He'd always set store by the harshness of his opinions, seeing them as the truth of his chosen world. Now was the time to know the needs of his body, mind, and heart. His body was the quicker to answer. He still craved Vince, his touch. Never for one second did he feel the "I've had you" monster creep into his brain. After having him, Stuart felt only the craving to have it again. That was a first. His mind was clearer than he'd ever known. He was calm, patient and totally accepting of what being with Vince would mean to his life. Change. As Vince had said, he knew it would take work. But with Vince by his side . . . And his heart? This he knew. Stuart Alan Jones was in love with Vince Tyler. For better . . . for worse. And in Vince's words . . .

"Oh my god."

Stuart raced to the bedroom to grab his cell. Looking at the bed they'd made, he hit speed dial. Smiling as he heard the voice answer hesitantly on the other end.


"Vince . . ."


"I thought about it and I've only got this to say . . ."


"Stuart . . . you there?"

"William Hartnell. Patrick Troughton. Jon Pertwee. Tom Baker. Peter Davison. Colin Baker. Sylvester McCoy."

"Oh my God…"


"Huh hmm. Yes?"

"Ask me about Paul McGann."

"Hmm. And Paul McGann?"

"Paul McGann doesn't count, luv. Only you do."

"Stuart . . . you mean?"

"Welcome to our world, Vince. When are you coming home?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Dammit. Get out of the fucking way, you twat!!!"

Stuart jerked the steering wheel to the right to avoid the drunken slouch in the road. Shit, why did every possible road obstruction have to be in his way tonight. All he wanted was to see Vince, kiss him and make him smile.

All day . . . all damn day they'd been kept from each other. First Hazel's delivery truck had lost a tire on the way out from the house. Then just as Stuart was on his way over, Vince gets called into work. Store emergency. What the hell could have happened at that damn store which classified an "emergency" situation? Let alone hours of his lover's time.

His lover. He liked the sound of that.

So here he was speeding down to surprise Vince while trying not to kill himself or anyone else on the road. It was now after seven. The store in which Vince worked had closed at six but he was still stuck there. He'd been so involved the whatever the mix-up had been, that they'd only been able to talk a few minutes all day. Frustration mounting every minute denied them.

Finally he pulled around to the back of the place. He'd had to drop Vince off here a few times, so he knew the employee entrance was easily located to anyone familiar with the lot. Pulling in, he shut down the jeep and walked to the door. Locked of course. Not a problem, though. Just blame it on his misspent youth in Ireland. His chuckle was accompanied by the click of the lock.

"Open Sesame." Of course it also helped to know the alarm code that a certain someone had chosen the last time they'd had to drop by unexpectantly. So in he punched the numbers . . . number of Dr. Who's . . . number of regenerations . . . number of years Tom Baker served as Who . . .number of letters in Gallifrey . . . and the total number of episodes that featured the Daleks. Yes. Vince was insane but still so cute.

Making his way up to the office, Stuart felt the smile starting to break across his face until he knew he was sporting a full fledged grin. Hmm. This was going to be so good.

Entering the room, he found Vince leaning over the desk trying to find the latest invoice to match against the supply order that had royally fucked up his day. He took in the lean form that had changed his life's focus. The small office echoed with his voice, "So I'm a high maintenance twat, am I?"

Vince jerked around, the pleased surprise transforming his face. Stuart knew that he'd never seen Vince look as happy as that moment. Quickly moving to stand directly in Vince's body space, he asked one question before his lover had a chance to speak. "Despite our shared interest and your new fascination with the world of video, I have one question. Is this room being taped?"

"No, just the main floor and the supply rooms. They were going to but with budget cuts and . . uhmn," his words cutoff by Stuart's kiss. The fire still burned . . . one brush and the flame swept over them both. Stuart pressed him back against the desk until he was practically laid across it. Parting Vince's lips, Stuart played with his tongue. He loved hearing Vince's moans, the slippery feel of their contact and the taste of his mouth. He reached down to tease the hardened cock in his lover's pants, loving it as Vince pulled away to gasp out, "Stuart . . . we can't. This is not . . . ahhh. Oh." Despite his words, he was thrusting into Stuart's hand.

Unzipping and diving in Stuart asked, "You like this. Oh yeah." Shoving the material down, he knelt before Vince. "You're going to love this." With that, he took the cock in his mouth. Vince cried out at being captured in the warm moist heat. The panting gasps swept through the air as they moved together. Stuart traced the length taking him in to the base. He kept up a fierce pace, moving in time with Vince's thrusts . . . the hum of his own moans playing over the sensitive flesh he cherished. Never giving in rhythm, the end came slamming into Vince's body with a flash. Stuart absorbed the storm front as Vince's hands moved frantically on his head, gasping out Stuart's name as he spilled over Stuart's tongue.

Rising slowly, Stuart moved over his lover's body. He kissed Vince sweetly, sharing his pleasure between them both. Pulling back to see his eyes, Stuart took Vince's face into his hands. They gazed into each other's souls as they waited for Vince to come down off his high. Making sure he'd fully caught Vince's attention, Stuart spoke softly. "I love you, Vince."

Vince closed his eyes briefly as if absorbing a pleasure so sweet that it was almost tingled with pain. Once his eyes had found Stuart's again, he answered. "I love you. So much."

Stuart smiled. "Even though I'm a 'high maintenance twat'?"

Vince laughed roughly. "Especially because you're a high maintenance twat. I wouldn't settle for anything easy, me. The best all the way."

Moving to rest his head on Vince's chest, they stayed there for a time . . . embracing the moment and each other.

"Thank you for trusting me with your heart." Stuart's words whispered into Vince's ear were a balm to the speaker's tired soul, as was the answer.

"Hmm. Thanks for loving me back."

"Vince . . ."


"Let's go home. I want you naked and in my bed."

"You going to chain me to your bed frame?"

"Vince! So bad . . ."

"So spank me. You're now entitled."


And with that the lilt of soft laughter echoed as they found their home in each other's arms.


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