Title: "No Words. No Thoughts."
Author/pseudonym: xof
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Pairing: SJ/??
Rating: Nc-17
Status: New/Complete
Archive: Yes. Please.
Feedback: xof@rose.net 
Website: http://thesleepydragon.com/nesting/main.html 
Series/Sequel: No.
Disclaimers: I don't own these characters. I presume that Channel 4 and
Russell D. do.

Notes: Seems the QAFfic@egroups.com list is stuck on this missing scene at
present. Well, I wanted to put in my own two cents and see if I could work
it more to my own tastes. Dark is fine, but sometimes I can’t stand to have
my favorite characters torn to bits without trying to resurrect them in my
own vision. And yes, I know there probably isn’t a club like this on Canal
Street – it’s called creative license . . . lol.

Summary: Stuart’s night after Vince literally runs way from him in QAF1 . .

Warnings: Spoilers for QAF 1, definitely. This is an AU universe from the
runaway scene on. Drug use (duh, it’s Stuart Jones after all….) and dark
rooms (you’ll see what I mean for the ignorant . . . lol) but the story is
not a promotion of such behavior. So take care in the real world, folks.
FEEDBACK is definitely needed. Not betaed.

"No Words. No Thoughts."



(September 24, 2000)

‘Why doesn’t somebody stop me?’

Sighing, Stuart leaned back against the wall at club and closed his eyes.
It had been a shit day. No question. The funeral for Phil, the porn-spree
through the dead man’s house and then what followed at Hazel’s with Nathan’s
scream-a-rama. Hell, sometimes Stuart didn’t know what he was thinking.

‘Letting my dick be my guide, again. So what’s wrong with that?’

Two words – location and timing.

His mind flashed to the heat that had passed between himself and the boy.
Standing in that room . . . that fucking room where he’d spent so many of
his teenage days, staring at the photos of him and Vince at Nathan’s age.
He’s suddenly felt about a thousand years old. Half a life almost gone.
Jeeeeezus. He’d been aching to loose himself, to hide briefly in the
pleasure of youth once more. Hadn’t thought of it as a desecration of Vince
’s space until he’d seen the emotions blazoned across his best friend’s face
at the realization of what he’d done. Betrayal and hurt, sadness and anger
. . . and for once unforgiveness.

Not a word . . . He’d chased after Vince feeling more desperate than he
could remember being in years. And no matter what he’d offered in amends,
the words didn’t work. Impotent in the face of Vince’s pain. After his
friend had run out of his sight, Stuart had sat in his jeep trying to wade
about in the void left by his absence. Stuart with Vince. Vince with
Stuart. And now no Vince . . . Just Stuart.

‘I need a drink.’

He’d gone back to flat, changed out of his black as quickly as he could . .
. cursing the need to have worn it in the first. Phil. That sad sack. And
those photos . . . Thank god Vince had thought he was joking. But he
still couldn’t get rid of the image. Dozens of photos. At pub or else . .
. all of Vince. Hell, he didn’t even remember a camera being present at
most of the occasions represented in that box. What kinda non-tourist
carried a fucking camera at pub or club, standing like a twat and popping
the flash? And what kind of men were they that they hadn’t noticed?
Subconsciously recognizing another hands-off topic – the obsession of
another man for his Vince and how that made him feel – Stuart pulled on a
burgundy silk shirt and black pants. He made to grab his keys but then
said, “Fuck it.”

He was not going to be driving tonight. Cabs would have to do.

His restlessness wouldn’t abate as he prowled around through the throngs of
flesh. ‘Had him, had them both, wouldn’t want him . . . Bloody hell.’ He
couldn’t seem to find anyone to focus on. He’d see a bloke, say a line,
snog him and then find himself bored before his hand got halfway down with
the zip. After the third departing accompanied by the curses of
“pricktease,” Stuart new he needed something extra tonight. Alcohol be
damned. Making the rounds, he begrudgingly scored off that bitch Anita.
Said she didn’t want to lose a customer off a bad batch. ‘Bad batch, my
arse.’ But still he’d excepted like a twat.

Pop, swallow and wait.

He wandered outside for while . . . taking in the site of the men as they
walked along until he started feeling the high coming over him. “Oh
yeah…hmmm.” He walked into the nearest club door, only vaguely recognizing
it wasn’t one he frequented. The crowd inside was a bit rougher than he
normally preferred, but he was feeling no pain so he stayed to catch the
show. Leather and denim seemed to drip off everything that moved in the
place. He was too buzzed to care that he didn’t match the crowd, but then
standing out had always been his gift.

With every arse in the place so prominently displayed in tight jeans or
leather, he fell into one of his mind games. Follow the leader with a
twist… The twist being that you didn’t look at the owner, just the goods.
Letting his eyes glide along the curve of one set of cheeks only to get
distracted once more by the next that passed by. He knew he was smiling
evilly but didn’t care. And then . . .


Stuart caught sight of a bloke that passed close to the back against the
wall. Keeping with the spirit of his game, Stuart didn’t look at his face .
. . nothing registered above the waist, eyes locked on only one thing . . .
that arse. It was brilliant. We’re talking high, tight rounded curves
encased in chocolate leather pants so plastered to his skin that underwear
was definitely not an issue. Stuart bit his lip as he savored the initial
moment before he made his move. The moment before he became that bloke’s
whole world for the time it took to lose himself in shag bliss. This was
going to be so good.

He watched as the bloke moved further towards the “Enter if you dare” sign
that marked the dark room. Stuart grinned as he walked faster, keeping his
eyes locked on the prize so that he wouldn’t miss the man’s next move.
There were times when a dark room had served Stuart well, usually on a night
when he hated the world and disliked himself. It was the ultimate in
forgetting, in not knowing and in giving over to the darker tastes of his
nature. He’d always managed to steer the shagging to his preferences,
leaving if things got too intense. But tonight . . . faceless and
fine-arsed was enough to draw him forward.

Following through the drape that covered the entrance, he blinked against
the dimmed atmosphere. He was already half drowned on the beer he’d been
drinking, added with the Anita’s gift, so his steps were on the edge of
unsteady. Hadn’t been drinking water like he should. Stuart shook his head
as he moved into a room lit only by bare black light bulbs hung from the
amazingly high ceiling. The effect created a mass of bodies outlined only
with the barest touch of luminescence as they writhed in different acts,
their moans growling forth in an almost endless succession. Stuart managed
to keep track of the movement of his find as the bloke stilled along the
wall near the entranceway. He wasn’t participating, just turning round as
he took in as much of the scene as he could without being able to see, only
sense the action within touching distance.

Moving in quietly, Stuart pulled the bloke back to fully press against his
chest. He grinned at the gasp he heard from the man. Reaching forward, he
pressed his fingers against the guy’s mouth. “No words.” Stuart felt it as
the back tensed against his chest. Speaking in a guiding tone, he
continued. “No thoughts. Just you here in this room with my hands on you.
My breath hot against your neck.” He blew against the goose-bumped flesh of
the man’s throat as his words deepened both of their breathing. “I’m gonna
make you so hot, baby. Yeah. Feel that. My cock against your arse. God,
your arse is fucking fabulous.” Biting back a moan, Stuart pressed his head
into the nape of the neck before him . . . grinding his hardened cock
against the leather between them.

Stuart had to moan himself, when a second later he felt those lips open and
accept his fingers inside. The glide of that hot tongue over his skin was
maddening. Stroking and nibbling along the length of his hand, the bloke
pressed his own hands against the wall as he moved back against the warmth
and hardness of Stuart’s body. “Yeah, baby. That’s it. Move those hips
for me.” He reached round and quickly unfastened the pants, playing one
hand along the aroused length of the bloke’s cock as he drew it out. His
shag groaned at the touch, continuing to writhe against him. The moment was
dizzying in its intensity. Their ears filled with the shouts, cries and
groans of men rutting together . . . mixed with the pounding beat of the
music. Stuart removed his fingers from the man’s mouth, drawing it down to
twist the bloke’s nipples through his shirt.

“Awwwww…” The tone deep and husky, Stuart bit at the flesh of his neck as
the man continued to release jagged sounds in response to his touch.
Stroking the hard length of his dick, Stuart fought to stay connected to him
as the man’s movements became more frantic. “You’re getting there. So hot
. . . Come on. That’s it.” Stuart continued to ramble obscene phrases in
his ear as his shag bowed his head against the power of his desire. He
reached up and grabbed a hold of the guy’s short spiky hair, pushing him
forward still more so that he was completely bent at the waist . . . his
arse pressed fully against Stuart’s still clothed cock. Manhandling him
easily in the face of the bloke’s need to cum, Stuart timed his strokes
perfectly. Just as he felt the quake of the man’s body, he jerked him fully
upright . . . biting harshly into his neck as his shag jerked in his arms.
As he clung to the unsteady stance of the man before him, milking the moist
flood of his essence out to splash against the wall and over his hand,
Stuart felt his own sense of disorientation increase tenfold. With a last
desperate attempt to keep his balance, he leaned heavily into the man’s body
. . . only to lose all sense of himself upon hearing the rambled whisper,
“Stuart. Oh my god, Stuart,” coming from the bloke’s mouth.

As full darkness folded in on his consciousness he asked shakily, “Vince?”

Then the world faded out and all was but a void.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When next Stuart remembered his eyes opening, he was struggling slightly to
escape from the silken tangle of the sheets on his bed. Murmuring, “Bloody
hell,” he staggered over across flat to the get some water. His head was
feeling unspeakable. “Bitch.” Anita was off his fucking list for life.
What the fuck had she given him? He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten home.
Or much of what had happened after Babylon earlier that night. The clock
glared back at him in the darkness . . . 5:33 AM. How’d he get home?

For some reason he felt a sudden craving for chocolate . . . The thought
sent a spark through his groin. What the hell?

Shaking his head, he walked over to use the bathroom. He washed his face
and brushed his teeth slowly, his eyes closed against the mirror’s lights.
Stuart thought he remembered parts of the night . . . the restlessness he’d
felt . . . the shame he’d never admit to for having hurt Vince. Vince . . .

Something was missing from his mind. What . . .

“Fuck!” His thoughts were interrupted as he fell quite ungraceful on his
naked arse, having tripped over something on his way back to bed. Rubbing
his bum, Stuart grabbed the item with the intent of slinging it across the
room in his frustration . . . only to stop when he recognized he was holding
the chocolate leather pants from last night’s shag. His memory flashed onto
the image of following some fabulous arse round some leather club, entering
a dark room . . . and then the rest was a blank. Well, obviously the guy
was still here. Hmmm . . . good. He was in the mood for some fun.

Stuart crawled grinning towards the bed, naked and feeling so alive despite
the fussiness of his thoughts. Climbing back onto the bed, he gave a sharp
laugh at seeing that his bedmate was all but buried beneath a ton of pillows
turned away on his side but with the sheet pulled back over the curve of his
hips . . . leaving that brilliant arse opened to Stuart’s lecherous view.
The bloke’s head was covered, muffled were the quietness of his snores. No
telling what he looked like, but with an arse like that . . . who the hell

He lightly traced his hand down the pale line of the man’s back, loving the
smoothness of the skin as he rubbed tantalizing circles over the small of
his back. The bloke moaned in his sleep, turning over on his stomach as if
to give Stuart complete access. “Yesss…” Taking in the light redness here
and there that spoke to their shared passion and Stuart’s tendency to nibble
as well as lick his bedmates, he retraced his hand’s path down the man’s
spine with his tongue. Lord how he tasted. Like cream he was. Salty but
light . . . causing him to harden as the body pressed back into his touch.
Stuart’s mouth traveled over the curves of his cheeks, smiling devilishly as
the man groaned aloud in wakefulness when at last Stuart’s tongue breached
the inner slope of his arse. Massaging his hips, gliding his hands over the
expanse of his back and driving them both mad with the wantonness of his
actions, Stuart growled when the man threw his arm out over his covered head
to grasp at the headboard of the bed. Continuing to arch backwards against
Stuart’s mouth, he moaned fiercely as his cock was taken into his seducer’s

Stuart reached over pressing himself half against the man’s body as he made
a grab for his nightstand drawer. Finding what he needed, he laid himself
out fully over the body sprawled in his bed. Pressing his hard cock against
the wondrous heat of the man’s flesh, Stuart whispered a promise. “I’m
gonna fuck you till you scream, baby. So good, it’s gonna be so good.”

His shag moved against him, spreading his legs in answer. Stuart lifted up
onto his knees between the man’s thighs, stroking his own cock with one hand
as he moved to ready his way with the other. So tight . . . it’ll be like a
vice gripping half the life from his body. Moaning as his own breath
quickened, Stuart pressed finally two then three fingers into the man’s
body. His own desire reaching a fevered-pitch, Stuart removed them as he
roughly jerked the man upwards onto his knees. The man’s face remained
buried, his groans cried out into the bedding. Sheathing his length in
preparation, Stuart bit down on his bottom lips as he lubed his sensitive

Pressing down on his neck so that the man’s arse remained high, Stuart
covered him with his own body. Pushing forward as he bit down lightly once
more into his back, Stuart gasped out, “Oh fuck. Yeah, that’s it. So
tight. Perfect.” Thrusting fully into the man’s heat, he moved forward and
back and forward again in a harsh rhythm meant to drive the fire deeper into
their bones. The man was almost trashing in his desire to have more, be
feel more in this culmination. Stuart clutched at his hips, pulling him
into his trusts almost blind and deaf to everything but the friction they
were creating until . . .

Until in absolute shock, Stuart watched as the man jerked upwards . . .
cresting the wave of silken pillows to surface with a cry of, “Stuart. Oh
god. More Stuart, please.”

“Vince!” Feeling his friend grip his hands around his waist when Stuart
would have moved away, he sputtered, “What the fuck? Vince, how’d . . .”

Gritting his teeth, Vince moaned as Stuart moved further within him in his
surprise. Not wanting to lose their connection, he gasped out a command.
“Don’t you damn well stop now. You bastard, move. Finish this.” Gripping
Stuart tightly within his body . . . using his own desperate need to fuel
his courage, Vince cried out, “No words. No thoughts. Just fuck me.”

So much, too much . . . the feelings. His Vince . . . in his arms, around
his cock. “Awwwwww…” Stuart pulled him back until he was pressed fully
against Stuart’s chest, both of them on their knees with his cock still
buried in Vince’s arse. He pulled Vince’s hand downwards until they both
took his friend’s cock in their grasp. Changing his thrusts, Stuart angled
his hips in a slower sensuous gliding stroke to match the play of their
entwined fingers over his Vince’s aching hard-on . . . drawing out their
shag, making every move more intimate. Stuart murmured, “Yes, Vince. Oh
yeah . . .” His words released breathlessly against Vince’s ear as his
friend continued to arch backwards along his chest.

Vince’s answering, “Stuart. Oh my god, Stuart,” rising in tone as they
neared their peaks.

Trailing his mouth downwards as his hips jerked forward into the storm,
Stuart new only one rational thought before he lost himself completely in
their fire . . . when at last his lips moved over the mark of teeth marks he
’d made the night before. Last night, dark room, chocolate leather, heat
and Vince in his arms. “Jeeeesuz!!!” The memory flashed across his mind,
echoing the passion he now felt quake through not only his body . . . but
also what seemed like his soul. “Vince…cum for me, baby. Do it. Awwww . .

“Stuart!” Vince shuddered against him as Stuart felt the warm of him erupt
over their joined hands as he came within Vince’s body. Rocking back and
forth as he struggled to recapture his equilibrium, Stuart held Vince close
. . . their bodies still connected.

As Vince leaned heavily into him, Stuart finally lowered them both to the
bed. Biting back a moan as he withdrew from Vince, Stuart rid himself of
their protection before lying down and pulling Vince around to look at him.
Not knowing what to say, Stuart drew Vince’s wet hand to his mouth . . .
licking away his passion with flicks of his tongue.

“Oh god, Stuart. My heart isn’t going to withstand you . . .” Vince gasped
out, his eyes darkened with emotion.

God, he’s the balm of my soul. Suddenly Stuart’s chest felt too full so he
asked, “Kiss me?”

Vince smiled beautifully, until Stuart saw a shadow of doubt skirt across
his eyes. “A kiss goodbye, is it?”

Stuart pushed him onto his back, pressing him down into the bed as he traced
the small imprint of his teeth against the smooth line of Vince’s throat.
“Not if you have the strength to love me despite my nature.” He leaned in
and at last took the kiss he’d long needed to complete him heart. “Three
things, Vince.”

Watching as Vince licked his taste off his lips as he ran his hands through
the tangle of Stuart’s dark curls, his lover asked, “Yeah?”

“One – I love you, Vince.” Seeing the smile once more alight in the man’s
eyes, Stuart once more stole a kiss freely given. “I need you. Always

Vince whispered in awe, “Love you more.” He smiled at Stuart’s chuckle,
hugging him close. “Two?”

Losing the grin, Stuart spoke seriously. “Two – I’m sorry. For everything,
Vince. I know I don’t deserve you in my life.” Blinking as he fought back
against the tears he knew could fall, Stuart said quietly, “But I’m so
grateful that you’re still with me. Thank you.”

Vince lay still, absorbing the frankness and need that shown on Stuart’s
face. When he at last found his voice, he murmured, “You’re welcome.”
Drawing him down again, they kissed so sweetly. Moaning as Stuart traced
his lips with the warmth of his tongue, Vince opened for him completely.
Their breaths entangled as their hearts beat in syncopation.

When at last they felt the strength to release themselves from the other’s
taste, Vince asked in a tone made low with arousal, “And third?”

Grinning down into his lover’s shining eyes, Stuart asked his last question
of the night. “Third – my wonderful lad . . .” he said as he rolled his
hips into the renewed hardness of Vince’s cock. “Where the fuck did you
find those leather pants?” Seeing Vince’s answering frown, Stuart
continued, “I’m planning on burning all of your underwear in the morning,
you know.”


Laughing at Vince’s shocked expression, Stuart stopped his lover’s next
words with his mouth . . .content at finding that in losing himself to
another soul, he’d finally found a home in Vince’s arms.

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