Title: Silk
Author/pseudonym: xof
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Pairing: Vince Tyler/Stuart Alan Jones

Rating: R
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: Well, this was begun as response to the tons of people who've continued to ask me to write QAF slash (with a happy ending . . . lol) but today's events have given this story a new reason for being. I was about a third the way through when I had a surprising call from a friend. For all the revelations that have passed in his life this weekend and for the pride that I have for his courage, this story is dedicated to Atlbud. I love you. (P.S. This would explain why the story is unduly smoochy . . . lol.)

Summary: Black was white, up was down and Vince Tyler was gonna take what he'd wanted for half his life. My take of what happened after QAF2.

Warnings: Spoilers for the entire series, but only in the lightest of ways. If you've not seen QAF or its sequel, this story won't spoil it for you. 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.



 

SILK

By

Xof

(May 14, 2000)

"No passengers, Vince. You let me down and I'll kill you."

Stuart's words kept echoing through Vince's mind. A passenger . . . is that what he'd always been to Stuart? Someone who just took in the scenery without jumping head-first into the wonders of life. Passive. A tag-a-long. A total twat.

"I spent years watching you…"

Yeah . . . that's what he'd always been. His entire life built around others. Watching after Hazel. Seeing to Stuart. Hell, make him barefoot and pregnant and the image would be complete.

What did that mean now that they had dematerialized from their known reality? It meant that all rules were null and void, all bets were off. Black was white, up was down and Vince Tyler was gonna take what he'd wanted for half his life.

He and Stuart were in Paris. They'd only skirted through London on their way to nowhere in particular. That seemed to be the unspoken rule. Stuart lead and Vince followed. Still . . . it didn't have to stay that way.

Vince shook his head with a small smile as he thought about all that had happened. In only one day everything in his life was different. He was without job, house and direction. Hell, it felt good. Felt good because despite everything he didn't have and didn't know, he had found his home. Stuart Alan Jones.

They'd traveled for hours, ending up at the George V hotel. Expensive suite. First class all the way. Vince was starting to wonder just how rich Stuart was. Still, he'd bowed and scraped to provide for both himself and Hazel for as long as he could think back so being in a situation where it was understood that he was not to pay for anything was almost surreal. It wasn't as if he'd never gotten expensive things from Stuart. He had. Birthdays were usually a mother load of Stuart-generosity. The best things he owned were from Stuart - the leather jacket for his twenty-fourth, the matching silver bracelets for them both at age 25 and on up until he'd gotten K-9 for his thirtieth. And now . . .

"I'm a kept man." Laughing fully as he looked into the bathroom mirror, Vince embraced the idea. Stuart's boytoy. "Shit, don't I wish." But the longer he looked at himself, the more resolute he became that this night . . . their first together in the same bedroom since his sister's wedding, was not going to be yet another wasted opportunity. "It's not enough. Fuck off is not enough."

He ran a comb through his damp hair, spiking it slightly before he put on the after-shave he'd nicked from Stuart's bags. Vince was standing in a burgundy robe that he'd also taken from Stuart's things while the man had gone down to check on their dinner reservations. After his shower, Vince hadn't felt like placing anything against his skin but the silk and scent of Stuart's wrap. His senses were captured within the warmth of its folds.

Walking across the bedroom, Vince stood looking out at the view of Paris at night. His skin tingled with the sensation of the soothing material as it brushed against his cock. It felt so good to be out of that suit . . . to be naked and wanton in silk. Such a small thing and yet it represented so much of the change that was occurring in his life.

Stuart was like silk in his own way. Sensuous in motion, smooth to the touch and symbolic of decadence and desire. That was Stuart, all right.

Vince was so lost in his yearnful thoughts that he didn't notice Stuart's return to their room. He didn't notice as his friend leaned against a nearby wall and watched him in the dark.

Vince's body was highlighted by the subtle brilliance of Paris' night-lights as seen from a distance. His mind adrift on thoughts of Stuart, he didn't stop his hands as they moved slowly over the line of both his arms and then over his chest . . . savoring the slide of the fabric against his flesh. Eyes now closed and head tilted slightly to the side, Vince sighed softly as his body reacted to the intimacy of his own knowing hands. How he wished it was Stuart's fingers gliding along his waist to his abdomen. The tease continued down even further as his hands moved to trace the hardened line of his arousal. "Mmm…"

Vince kept telling himself that he needed to stop, that Stuart would be back soon and then they'd have to go to dinner but he didn't want the sensations to end. His nipples stood out against the robe as his teasing touch drifted back up to each sensitive nub in turn. "Aww . . ." He longed for the sense of freedom that Stuart so often exhibited. The feeling that every action was right, justified and would be reciprocated by the one he wanted. Vince's breathing grew deeper as he drew the tie around his waist apart . . . easing the cover slowly off one shoulder as he continued to stand before the window, partially bared to the night. The room's cool air swept over his exposed side causing a heightened sense of contrasts as his heated skin radiated with the warmth of his need.

With a shallow breath, Vince took himself in hand. He had to end this before Stuart came back. His naked shoulder and arm stroking in a fiercer rhythm, he released a long sigh of pleasure. His fingers played over the sweet spots and along his length. One hand moved down to massage his balls, feeling them drawing closer to his body. "Oh shit . . ." Leaning against the window frame, Vince increased the pace as he quaked for an ending. When at last his release came, it felt like his entire body was on the verge of collapse. Vince out cried softly as the fire flared over his shattered nerves, "Stuart! Oh my god, Stuart."

In the moment that followed, Vince continued to rest his body against the solid support of the wall as his breathing forced its way roughly from his chest. His gasps danced none too gracefully with the room's static air, but served to cover the small click of the suite door as Stuart quietly left the room . . . leaving Vince none the wiser to his presence.

~ ~ ~

Something was up with Stuart. He was totally distracted at dinner.

When he'd returned to their room, Vince had already gotten redressed in the suit he'd left Manchester in that morning. True that Stuart had sent it down to be pressed, but still . . . it was horrible having to put back on the same clothes twice in one day. Almost as terrible as putting back on one's clothes after having meaningless, even mediocre, sex without the benefit of a shower afterwards. Such a letdown from the feel of silk.

Stuart on the other hand, looked divine. His custom-made suit graciously emphasized the slim lines of his body, the black material contrasting beautifully with the shock of his burgundy shirt. Vince had winced slightly at seeing the color of Stuart's shirt . . . the visual echo of the robe he himself had worn earlier. And it was silk to boot. All he could think was that some wicked little muse had a hell of sense of humor.

Expensive restaurant . . . brilliant food and a virtually silent dinner companion. Vince was starting to get nervous. He looked over at Stuart as he babbled on about the place and the people around them but still there was little response. Their waiter blatantly flirted with Stuart at every opportunity and still nothing. Finally, Vince tried to break down the wall of silence.

"Earth to Stuart." When he'd lifted his head Vince continued, "That's right. This is mission control calling Stuart Alan Jones. Are you there?"

It took awhile but Stuart sent a small grin his way. "All here. Present and accounted for, sir."

"So what's got you all quiet? Not worried about having left Manchester?"

Vince watched as Stuart brooded over the question. The minutes passed without an answer and he started to get worried that Stuart might be regretting having taken him along. "Then what, Stuart? Is it me? Is it Alfred?"

Looking into his eyes, Stuart answered. "Alfred's got all he needs. Romey, Lisa . . . hell, even my parents. He'll be fine." After a time he said, "Everything I told Nathan about Canal Street was true. It's over for me there." Running his eyes over Vince's oh-so-familiar suit Stuart smiled widely. "And as for you, we've got to get you a new wardrobe. Can't have my best friend wearing the same sad suit everywhere we go."

Vince laughed. His smile quickly left as the thought flashed into his head. "Sad suit. Sad life." He didn't realized he'd spoken allowed until he felt Stuart take his hand into his own. Meeting his eyes, Vince was surprised by the fierce determination he saw in Stuart's expression.

"Vince. I . . ." The words stopped under the weight of Stuart's emotions. Vince squeezed Stuart's hand, trying to show him that he didn't have to continue. Whatever was bothering his friend, there was no pressure to reveal it now.

In all the years that he'd known Stuart, Vince had grown to either relish and/or dread those moments when his friend made snap decisions. He never knew in which direction Stuart was heading but he always knew that once made, nothing and no one could change Stuart's mind. Those moments were always blazoned across his friend face, reflected in his eyes brightly as if a light had been rekindled. All too often the choices that Stuart made were not to Vince's way of choosing. He'd been through both extremes . . . great decisions like allowing them to leave together and horrible decisions like the whole "bang" incident. So when Stuart turned to him over their deserts and smiled, Vince knew that this moment was just such a time.

"Vince. I need you . . ."

The confusion evident on his face, Vince asked, "Need me to what?"

Still sporting that smile of his that said 'you'll do what I ask I have no doubt,' Stuart said., "Come with me and I'll show you what I need." Rising from the table, Stuart held out his hand to Vince.

The gesture reminded Vince of when Stuart had asked him to dance at the wedding. The strains of "Spanish Eyes" played softly in his heart as he once again reached out to take Stuart's hand in his own. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

~ ~ ~

Vince followed as Stuart lead them both to the private lift that would take them to their floor. He still had his hand in Stuart's as he glanced sideways towards his companion. He was confused again. Not a new feeling to be sure, and not a comforting one either.

As the ascending lift neared their floor, Stuart turned to Vince. "Do you trust me?"



"What do you mean by that?"

"Simple question, Vince. Do you trust me?"

Vince looked down at the floor. Speaking softly he answered. "I've had reason in the past not too. But yes. I do trust you."

Stuart lifted their clasped hands up and pressed them to his chest. When Vince raised his head in question, Stuart smiled. "Then close your eyes."

"Why?"

Grinning slightly, Stuart shook his head. "No, Vince. It doesn't work that way. You trust me. So do what I ask and keep your eyes closed."

Frowning, Vince finally did as asked. He felt Stuart release his hand and walk behind him. Turning his head to ask what was happening, Vince found Stuart directing his face forward with the press of both hands. "Keep still and let me guide you." With those words, Vince felt Stuart move to blindfold him with a long piece of material. Knotting the length behind Vince's head, Stuart then removed his touch. Vince's first reaction was slight panic. He reached up quickly to remove the obstruction but paused when his fingers first brushed against the fabric that encased his vision. Tracing the soft length around his face and down the back of his head, Vince let out a gasp. Silk. It was made of silk and by the feel, it was a long slender piece that would have been more suitable for tying a robe closed.

"oh . . . my . . . god."

Vince's whisper reverberated through the small enclosure of the lift. He dropped his hands quickly as he tried to comprehend what this implied. Could he have seen? Oh shit. Breathing heavily, Vince gasped out, "Stuart, I . . . Did you, hmm?"

Breaking into his words Stuart traced the line down the center of his back with a slow glide of his hand. The touch made Vince stop speaking. "What color do you think the blindfold could be, Vince?"

Before he could answer, the lift pinged its arrival at their floor. Vince knew that the room was towards the end of a long hall. He asked nervously, "Stuart. What if somebody sees?"

Stuart simply pressed the hand against his back and led him out of the lift. Vince didn't think he heard anyone in the hall. He walked slowly as Stuart took them to their door. He heard the beep of the door lock being disengaged and then they entered the suite. Stuart guided him further on into the bedroom before coming to a full stop. The silence of the room turned deafening as Vince waited for him to say something, anything.

"Stay exactly where you are, Vince. Don't move till I come back."

Being left standing in darkness while Stuart entered the bathroom was a true torment for Vince. He didn't know to do anything but stay still. He didn't know if Stuart knew about earlier. He didn't know why Stuart was acting strangely now. If he did know, then what would he do?

He whispered, "I'm such a twat."

Hearing Stuart's answering, "We both are," caused him to start violently. He hadn't heard him come back into the room. And that implied that there might have been another moment when he hadn't noticed the same . . . oh shit.

"Stuart. What's happening?"

When next Stuart spoke, Vince knew that he was standing very close . . . in front of him even. "You never answered my question, Vince."

Clearing his throat nervously, he asked. "Which question?"

"What color do you think your blindfold is, Vince?"

Biting his lip, Vince took a deep breath before answering. "Burgundy."



He felt Stuart move into his body space as he whispered, "We have a winner." The words were breathed warmly over his ear in such a way that his body tightened in response. No knowing what to say thereafter, Vince stood still as he listened to Stuart move back again.

"Take your clothes off."

Stuart's tone broached no refusal, but still Vince reacted in shock. "Have you gone daft?"

"Do it, Vince. Slowly . . ."

Vince steeled his resolve. He took off the jacket. Not knowing where to place it, Vince threw it on the floor. His tie followed, then his shirt. Toeing off his shoes and socks, he paused with his hands on the leather belt around his waist.

Embarrassment heated his skin brightly. He was hard. The horror of the moment, the fear and the question as to why all failed to serve as a deterrent to his desire. Gritting his teeth, Vince opened his pants and kicked them off. Standing in his black boxers, the outline of his hardened cock was clearly visible. He stopped. He couldn't take that final step. Echoing through his mind was one question. "Why?"

Stuart's next actions where as direct a response to Vince's question as he could have wanted. He grasped the back of Vince's head and pulled him into a kiss. Not the pecks or quick snogs that had served to further a momentary pretense or lie. No, this kiss was filled with the fire he'd only ever seen Stuart give to others. Moaning into the warmth of Stuart's mouth, Vince started to shake as his friend traveled a hand down beneath the waistband of his shorts. The play of their tongues mirrored the glide of Stuart's heated palm along the length of his cock.

"Mmm . . ." Stuart pulled back with the sound of pleasure on his lips. Taking one step back he said, "Take off the blindfold."

Reaching back to free himself with shaking fingers, Vince pulled the silk from his eyes. "Oh my god . . . Stuart!" The sight before him was breathtaking. Stuart had had the room lit with candles and a fire was burning in the fireplace across the room. The bed had been turned down as well. But all this was lost to Vince's view as he saw his friend.

Stuart stood before him smiling with kiss-bruised lips. He was wearing nothing but his burgundy robe. It was draped loosely over his shoulders and opened to reveal the full line of his torso. Vince stood transfixed by how utterly hot Stuart looked to his starving gaze. His sex was full and beautiful as it rose upwards between the silken frame.

Vince raised his head to meet Stuart's eyes. In a passion deepened tone, he said. "Stuart, tell me why."

Stuart reached for the silk belt that Vince still had grasped in his hand. Taking the strip of burgundy, he reached around Vince's waist . . . capturing him in its length. Smiling so beautifully, Stuart drew Vince towards him with a pull on the belt. Once they stood chest to chest, he murmured into Vince's mouth. "I told you before, Vince. I need you."

Vince reached between them to touch Stuart's heat for the first time. He watched the man before him groan in pleasure at the sensation the he was giving him, and he felt the total joy that he had always knew he would only find in this man's arms. Whispering against the moistened curve of Stuart's lips, Vince said. "Make no mistake, Stuart Alan Jones. We need each other." Feeling the "hmm" of Stuart's agreeing murmur, Vince took him into his arms and kissed him as he'd always wanted too. The caress and ease of their contact quickened the heat between them.

Reaching up, Vince threaded a hand deep into Stuart's hair and with the other . . . he virtually torn the robe from his body. Stuart answered by jerking down the last of Vince's garments, letting the boxers drop to the floor as they came together fully. "You feel so good, Vince. God." Stuart pressed his hands down the path of Vince's back to trace the curves of his ass. "I want you so bad. I've always wanted this . . ."

Hearing those words felt like the brush of a dove's wing uplifting his soul. He'd longed for them, for him, for this . . . forever and now was their moment. Vince pulled Stuart to the bed and they fell onto it in a tangle of limbs. The thrill of finding a mutual passion that held a touch of desperation and humor was absolutely breathtaking. They touched and tasted each other as the fire built. And when the time came, first Vince and then Stuart took the other into their bodies, their hearts and their minds . . . their souls having long since performed the dance.

Soul mates entwined.



And at the height passion, they found themselves calling to the other. Desperate to impart the joy that they'd discovered, each said "I love you," and saw the truth of it in their lover's eyes.

Finis


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