Title: "Cherished Resurrection"

Author: xof

Fandom: Queer As Folk (UK)

Pairing: Stuart/Vince

Rating: NC-17

Archive: Yes, please.

Feedback: xof@rose.net

Website: Not anymore - POUT!!!

Status: New and Complete

Series: Fourth and Final in the "Not Letting Go" Series

Disclaimers: Characters created by Russell Davies and belong to Channel 4.

Notes: This story is the fourth in a series - follows "Not Letting Go" - "Holding On" - "Saving Grace." I strongly urge readers to read or reacquaint themselves with them before reading this finale. All stories can be found at the ATP archive: http://www.ilithyiarose.org/qaf/

Special Note: Tons of help was received from my girl, Alexis, and Pathos. Alexis helped with the concept, menu (lol) and betaing. Pathos gave very needed advice and a recommendation for the center mentioned in the story. Many thanks and hugs to you both.

"Face 2 Face" is located in Manchester: http://www.lgfoundation.org.uk/face2face/face2face_detail.htm

Summary: On the cusp of recovery, darkness looms.

Warnings: This story deals with the aftermath and recovery of an attack. Not a non-con story!

FEEDBACK is definitely desired. It would be good to know how you think Vince’s recovery is going.

Teasing, soft tangible touches tickled over his skin as Stuart sighed his way to wakefulness. Mind still sidestepping full consciousness, he shifted into the warmth of clinging sheets and started to fall into oblivion’s arms once more. Then, the warmth he was being treasured by slid slowly off - the covers pulled away. Stuart grumbled with the disenchantment of one resisting his own fate, the sound made less empowered by the soft snore attached at the end as he rolled onto his stomach. The unconscious move to retain his comfort left Stuart arse up to the cool night air and his head buried in pillows.

The press and rake of warm fingers down his spine warred with sleep’s imperative to remain in tact. Adding in the feel of another - some other someone - coming up to rest along his side, and Stuart’s body betrayed its own longing desire to retain its peace. He arched into the friction of the fingers that had found their way over his hip and then back up his thighs. Gasping into full clarity as he felt them breach the inner curve of his bottom. A thigh rested then atop his own, holding him still as the fingers circled the entrance and traced through the lube slick evidence left as passion’s mark from his earlier possession.

Stuart growled forth a shaking murmur of acceptance when his body was opened, fingers invading the core of him - pushing through the sweetly sore circle below. He reached out, frantic to grab on to anything - to be grounded as his body came online like wildfire caused by a summer storm . . . sudden, sharp and white hot. Holding onto the edge of the mattress, Stuart raised his free leg for leverage and pushed back into the searching hand - not caring that his body had been taken twice before within a few hours, only FEELING each lightening strike as a finger flicked across his prostate. Tapping out a rhythm that made Stuart moan.

"Vince, please…."

At his name, Vince leaned more fully into Stuart’s body. His fingers held still as he asked quietly, "Too much?"

Stuart’s body was tight with the tension of wanting. He didn’t care about anything he’d feel afterwards, only about what he needed now. "More."

Whispered murmurs heated Stuart’s ear as Vince pressed down onto his back, holding him in place with the weight of chest. "Don’t want to hurt you. Never want to."

Squeezing his eyes close, Stuart whispered in a thickly accented voice. "Don’t stop."

He knew by the rapid pace of his quickened pulse that it wouldn’t take much to topple him over. His body was sensitized with use and the ache drove the desire for it to come. Thrusting against the bed, Stuart panted as Vince drove his fingers home - stroking from the inside, until all Stuart knew was nothingness and the residual echo of his own climatic yell sounding in his ears.

Panting softly, "What's my name, again?" Stuart smiled tiredly as Vince laughed and covered his body, spooning him amongst the tangled bedding.

"Considering the state you're in, I won't torture you by saying Mud." Vince whispered close to his ear, nose buried in Stuart's curls.

"Hmmm...." Body and mind exhausted, Stuart burrowed closer into Vince's body heat and sighed as his lover hugged him close.

They both lost themselves in the comfort and slept together as one.

* * * * * * *

Waking some time later, was a less pleasant ascent to conscious clarity. Stuart bit his lip to keep from groaning as he slowly rose from the bed. His body ached all over, and his arse gave full testament to its discomfort as he sat up before standing. Muttering quietly, "Bugger," Stuart stood and looked at the clock. They were supposed to meet Hazel and Alexander tonight. A peace conference of sorts for their not having told Alexander the couple's news before he'd been "shocked out of ten years of life" by seeing Vince kissing Stuart a few days back. Hazel had arranged the meeting, saying she'd bullocks the lot of them if they didn't show. The clock glared even in the low light of the setting Manchester day. All the blinds were drawn so the flat was dark. Two hours till they had to leave.

Stuart watched Vince sleeping for a bit, a smile covering his disgruntled grimace as he watched Vince hug Stuart's pillow close. The dreams were getting better. Stuart had told Vince to use the fear as a catalyst for being more on the offensive. He'd listened to any shout Vince made, usually in response to a slight stumble - stubbed toe - broken glass. He'd played submissive to Vince's sudden sexual aggression. Stuart welcomed Vince's touch, even knowing that his lover was working them both till Vince was too tired to dream.

He wasn't blind to the doubts that still plagued Vince, but he saw Vince getting better each day.

Drawing the covers up over Vince, Stuart went for a shower . . . feeling each step echo through his limbs and bottom in perfect acknowledgement of their shared desire. Hot water rained down, blanketing his skin and smoothing his aches. It felt sinful at the touch. He stayed under the flow for several long minutes, washing his hair and body. Once done, Stuart shook the water from his hair - the drops splashing over the steamed glass and running down in clear streaks. He walked out naked, as he scrubbed at his hair - letting the air dry his body as was his want. He'd shave before they left.

Vince was still sleeping, so Stuart went to the kitchen to make coffee. Putting the kettle on as he threw some bread in the toaster, Stuart smiled. Vince wouldn't say anything at seeing the toast this late in the day, knowing it was Stuart's habit to eat it no matter what time he awoke. Still, Stuart knew he'd get a look for it nonetheless.

And then there he was....

Vince in his robe stepping down from the bedroom, his hair a fright and eyes blinking, before coming to a stop and looking over at Stuart standing in the all together as he ate toast. The look followed hard upon, and left Stuart snickering as he poured Vince coffee. His humor lasted until Vince walked behind him, pulling him back into his arms and ran a gentle hand over the curve of Stuart's arse.

"How are you?" Circling his hand over one cheek and then the other, Vince breathed in the spice of Stuart's freshly washed hair.

Stuart closed his eyes and pushed into Vince's touch. "Bit sore," he turned before finishing with a kiss, "but very worth it."

Vince gave a small smile, looking down the length of Stuart's body. "You're all wet."

Laughing as Vince drank his coffee, Stuart pulled at his hair . . . helping the bed-head spikes to stand taller. "All clean and wet." He tugged at Vince's robe teasingly. "You're the only dirty boy here."

Vince laughed and walked back towards the bedroom after giving Stuart a squeeze. "Sex will do that to a person." He turned back to ask, "How long till we have to leave?"

"Little over an hour."

Vince nodded, turning his back as he let the loosened robe drop down the bedroom steps. Naked, he walked to the bathroom for his shower.

Sipping coffee, Stuart quirked an eyebrow at that move. Blimey, Vince could still surprise him - even with small things like that brazen exit. Grinning widely, Stuart went after him.

* * * * * * *

Stuart was never so happy to take in the view through his glass shower stall as he was watching Vince inside. Flesh slick, rosy from the heat and now blissfully free from the marks of prior abuse. In a word, beautiful.

And hot, besides.

Cracking the door, Stuart entered the steaming heat of Vince's water world. He wasn't smiling, instead he looked on with predatory intent. Vince turned to face him, eyes widening as Stuart slowly sank to his knees. Water splashing round their bodies, Stuart pulled Vince close with hands on his lover's hips. He moaned as Vince's cock hardened, dark with blood and need. All without a touch, under the weight of Stuart's eyes.

"Stuart."

Stuart lifted his gaze to meet Vince's own, locking their stare as he leaned forward and brought Vince within.

"Oh my God." Vince braced his hands on the glass before him, arching into Stuart's mouth with the guiding of persistent hands. The rhythm meant to bring him home without quarter.

Hearing the echo of Vince's moans and gasps made Stuart desire that final climatic call. To hear it, and to feel the desperate thankful power in his name ripped from Vince's being. He pulled back, commanding, "Give over, Vince. Do it now." He took Vince's cock back inside his mouth, increasing the suction and humming as he guided it down - touching the back of his throat, milking every inch of it as Vince yelled.

"Stuart!!!"

Hot cream coating his tongue, taken into his body in the most intimate exchange. Stuart hugged Vince as the man panted and shook, still clasping the softening flesh between his lips. Finally pulling back, Stuart made slow work of licking Vince clean . . . relishing the taste and Vince's soft moan.

"Come here." Vince ran his fingers through Stuart's tangled mess of dark hair. They kissed each other beneath the water's still falling spray, finally ending the touches when Vince groaned dramatically. "Fuck, do we have to go out?"

"It was you who said yes, Vince." Stuart left out of the shower and grabbed towels for them both. "And somehow I don't think the 'me mum's in hospital' excuse will work, since Hazel's the one who asked us."

"Oh ha ha. Let's get ready then. Face the firing squad and plead our case."

Stuart snickered nastily, "Yeah, imagine. Alexander in uniform, bright pink with bows. A flower in his rifle as he aims for that final kill. Would be brilliant."

"Would more likely shoot himself in the foot while trying...."

Laughing, they both began the now familiar process of getting ready - two men to a bathroom. It had quickly become this quiet, subconsciously choreographed dance - each moving this way or that while shaving, brushing their teeth and fixing their hair. Always balanced and never infringing on the other's space. Minutes passed and they'd moved to the bedroom. The music of shuffling clothes played as each decided what to wear, first choices tossed aside with a quick knowing look from one man to the other. Vince knew Stuart wanted him to wear the blue. Stuart knew Vince wanted him to wear the red. Smiling, they both did as the other would have wanted - the requests silent, but known.

Stuart walked about the flat, padding his back pocket with his wallet and locating his keys. Finally ready to leave, he looked up to find Vince standing before the windows that made up one wall of his home. Stuart frowned at Vince's huddled stance - arms wrapped tightly around his own body as he stared at the darkening sky. Going out - it still made Vince react with tense dread. They had been working on small outings, like to a shop or just for a walk . . . trying to ease Vince through his hesitancy and fear. Quick visits to Hazel's worked best, though Stuart understood that it was the calling comfort of 'home' that did the trick then. Crowded places were the most challenging. They'd made it down to Canal Street the night before - leaving after an hour with Hazel hot on their heels. She'd laid down the ultimatum about talking with Alexander, saying she'd be mental if he continued to dramatize his exclusion from shag-alert's latest miraculous news. Stuart had watched Vince looking down at his shoes, taking in the small smile and the straightening of his shoulders as Vince looked at Hazel and agreed.

Vince's bravado fell the moment they were alone. He was quiet, like he was thinking too hard. Stuart's one turn at distraction, a gentle press of lips on lips once they'd entered the flat - had provided his lover with the map to Forgetful Road. Hours of touching, taking - possessing, Vince in the lead and Stuart gladly arse-high for the ride.

But looking at Vince lost within himself, Stuart wondered if a more direct approach would help ease the way.

"He's not out there, Vince."

Silence.

Stuart walked to Vince's side, seeing their reflections in the glass. "You scared, or just angry?"

Words softly spoken, "I'm tired. Tired of being scared and angry."

Nodding, Stuart eased his arm over Vince's shoulders. "No need to go out. We can...."

"We're going out. Over and out, remember." Vince leaned his head against Stuart's - his face determined and deliciously brave. Smiling....

"New planet?" Stuart laughed, remembering their conspiring tease before braving Hazel's first visit days before.

Vince pulled back and walked to the door. "Well, Canal Street IS out of this world."

Shaking his head, Stuart followed Vince out of the flat.

* * * * * * *

"I don't believe it!!! How will King Canal live it down? The well's run dry....hehehe." Alexander and Hazel were piled together in a puddle of hysterical laughter. Drunk, off their heads with it.

Stuart grit his teeth, and pushed his now empty wallet back into his pants. He called back to Alex at the table, "Keep it up, you twat. And I'll be swanning this last round off on the lot of you." He waved the notes round in a wide circle before shoving them onto the bar, for the tender to scrap off - wet and sticky from the night's spilled alcohol. Five hundred quid - over and definitely out. Not that Stuart cared about the money. It was Alexander's glee at spending it that ticked him off, ordering the best brands and having Hazel join in till they were both pissed and giddy with it all. Made remembering that this was an effort at returned tolerance all the more difficult. But for Vince, Stuart would hazard the fallout without snapping Alex like the bent twig he resembled.

Stalking back over with the last round he'd chip for, Stuart plopped the drinks on the opposite side of the table from Alexander and Hazel. He figured if they could manage to actually reach steadily over the table to obtain the goods, then they deserved to drink the spoils of their efforts. Sitting amidst the dramatic hisses and jeers of their disgruntled company, Stuart smirked at the ruckus that ensued. He snickered as Hazel's chair tilted as she sat back, drink in hand. Would have been brilliant if only she hadn't caught herself and righted the chair in time to save her arse. Alexander had an easier go of it, which the table attributed to his long arms. Shaking his head, Stuart took a quick glance around while the others were distracted.

Vince had been gone only a few minutes, to the loo. Sometimes it wasn't as apparent how mother-hen-ish Stuart was towards Vince in his recovery, as it was when they were separated in public. It was a test of sorts. To see how Vince was progressing, though neither of them would say as much. Stuart found the irony in how much he himself felt like the one being tested. He'd come to except his possessive awareness of Vince, or rather it being more to the fore of his thoughts. Realizing he's always felt it beneath the surface made it easier to handle.

Not that he'd suddenly turned into the champion of all patient dispositions. He'd been exceedingly snappish the last few days with practically all but Vince. Hazel when she'd come round to bring by some more clothing for Vince - un-asked mind, after she'd been to his to feed the fish. Alexander when he'd left his third hang up message on Stuart's machine - leaving a chorus of phone rings to accompany Stuart and Vince's shagging. Even Sandra, when she'd had to call him despite his taking the week off - to ask after some odds and ends info for their boss. They were easier targets for venting his anxiety, and through them he'd managed to keep his ire from Vince. What he didn't want was for Vince to think it was him causing Stuart's anger. The necessity to act in slow steps in the aftermath of Vince's attack was the reason.

Of course, taking it slow helped in the savoring of their changed relationship. So it wasn't all bad.

Fingers tugged gently through the curls at the base of Stuart's neck, calling him from his thoughts. "Back, sorry."

Stuart smiled as Vince sat beside him, closer than before as Stuart had moved the chair nearer each time Vince had gotten up during the evening. The seats could practically have been attached then, as Stuart slung his arm around the back of Vince's seat . . . leaning into Vince's side as he watched Vince give a small grin. "Save me, Vince. I haven't a pence to my name thanks to these prats."

Vince chuckled as he turned to Stuart, the sound ending as he looked into the affection shining back from deep blue eyes. Stuart purposely looked down at Vince's mouth, edging nearer despite their audience and then looked back up at Vince. The challenge was met as Vince moved in and brushed his lips over Stuart's, leaving after a small kiss to the side of his lover's mouth.

"Blimey." One word, sighed twice over by an unexpected chorus - sounding forth from both Hazel and Alexander in their drunken states.

Stuart didn't break his hold on Vince's attention, watching as Vince flushed with the knowledge of other eyes on them. Running his hand up Vince's thigh, Stuart arched an eyebrow in question.

Drawing a shaky breath, Vince managed, "I. . . I th.... Think it's late, yeah."

A nod and Stuart stood up, pulling Vince with him. Without a backwards glance, "We're off." The two men exited, one eagerly at the heels of the other.

* * * * * * *

"GIVE it, me. You ponces!!!" Rough hands jerked Vince away from Stuart, shoving him flat on his back and knocking the wind from his lungs.

Stuart growled out a shout as he was shoved against the alley wall. "Don't you fucking touch him." He struggled to break free from their mugger's hold when with a gasp, he jerked back as a knife was pressed against his side. A lightening flash - peace and teasing to get home to this sudden attack, and Stuart was caught between following what he was being demanded to do and watching Vince curled up on the ground, gasping for breath.

A hand shoved into his pocket, frantically searing for and finding the wallet inside as Stuart stood crushed to the wall. "Your mobile and jewelry. I want it all. You hold back on me, or try to scream and I'll use this." The guy backed up a bit as Stuart jerked the phone from his coat pocket, thrusting it, his rings and his watch at the man. The long sleeves of his jumper and coat obscured the shine of the silver bracelet hidden beneath. "Now his.... Get it, or I'll stick you while he watches." The guy shoved Stuart forward, knife at his back.

Stuart collapsed down onto his knees beside Vince. Eyes locked on Vince's frozen face, seeing him terrified and immobile with shock. He hurriedly pulled out the wallet, phone and watch - his body obscuring the view from the bastard standing behind him as Stuart quickly shoved Vince's bracelet further up under his sleeve. It wasn't a conscious decision, just an innate instinct to preserve. He held up the items as the guy grabbed him by the hair. A split second's eternity, as Stuart waited either for the man to take and go . . . or bring the knife down. He heard Vince saying, "no...." The tone so wretched, he had to close his own eyes and clutch at Vince's arm with his free hand.

A rapid jerk as his other hand was freed of its contents, and Stuart was falling - crying out as the man threw him over Vince's body, kicking him in the side before running down the alley and away.

Shivering on an adrenaline high, Stuart eased back from Vince's huddled form - pushing him flat and running his hands over Vince's face. He could feel the shaking all through his lover as he asked, "Vince. Look at me. I need to see you look at me."

Tears, silently running down pale skin - Vince opened his eyes, clutching Stuart's arms as he gasped deeply . . . like a man starved of air. The panting breaths quickly turned into soft ragged sob as he buried his head against Stuart's chest. Mutters of "sorry, sorry, sorry," sounding muffled, repeated continuously as Vince held on.

Stuart shushed his lover, running his hands over Vince's body as if searching for a wound he could heal. "It's over. Shhh.... It's over." Pulling Vince up, Stuart rocked him as their voices mingled.

"You two okay? What's happened?"

Jerking his head up, Stuart saw a young man coming towards them in a rush. "Inside, woman - red hair and a blonde man. Get them quick." He looked down at Vince was he heard the man's feet leaving quickly. He wiped at Vince's face, kissing him to stop the flow of words. "Vince. Hazel's coming. So's Alex. We're good. Safe. Shhh. I'm not letting you go. Hold on to me. Hold on."

Vince's voice broke forth in a harsh tone, "Doesn't feel over...."

The words cut off as the alley filled with rushing feet and cries of, "Vinnie!" and "Stuart!" filled the darkness around the huddled pair.

* * * * * * *

"I still think it would have been better to bring him home," Hazel said as they stood outside the door of Stuart's flat. She and Stuart were waiting for the lift to come up, keeping their voices down as they talked. The flat door was open, just in case....

"He wanted to be here, Hazel." Stuart's voice was low and emotionless as he stared at the floor . . . his arms hugged tight around his waist. The stance making it plainly obvious that the want he'd spoken of was mutual.

Hazel nodded, looking years older than Stuart had ever seen her before. She fished through her coat pockets, only finding what she'd been looking for when the lift came to a halt behind them. Stuart followed her to the lift. "Alexander's keeping the taxi waiting, so I'll go. But I'll be back tomorrow - bring you both some food, yeah?" At Stuart's nod, Hazel held out a card. "Take this."

Stuart flipped the business card over and arched his brow, frowning. "Face2Face."

With a serious expression that broached no descent, Hazel explained. "He's a counselor at the local gay and lesbian center." Taking Stuart's face into her hands, she continued, "Don't say no. He's the one that's been helping Alexander after this last hospital stay. He's good and he can help Vince."

"I'm helping Vince."

"Yes, but who's helping you? This is twice, Stuart. Twice he's felt helpless and been the victim of violence. Only this time he saw it happening to you as well, and he froze. Took three of us to lift him up off the street. Now you can comfort him, listen to and love him - but he's the one that's got to get pass feeling helpless. And this may be the way to make it easier." Kissing Stuart quickly before turning to enter the lift, Hazel brushed at her cheek as if to rid herself of a tear before it had even dropped from her shining eyes. "You're gonna have to do this for him, Stuart. He won't go unless you tell him it needs doing. Even if it's just the once, at least we've tried...."

Stuart bit at his lip, caught and not wanting to make any decisions now. He pushed the card into his pocket, wincing when he realized it was the pocket that had been torn open by the mugger. Stuart switched the card to his back pocket and nodded, not looking at Hazel but down at the ripped edges of his pocket hanging at his side. Lifting his head when Hazel reached out and tipped his chin up, Stuart conceded, "I'll talk to him about it."

Hazel gave him a small smile and then hugged him close. She held him through the initial tensing of his body that always happened when she crossed into his personal space, letting him go with another quick peck to the cheek. "See yah both tomorrow, kid."

Stuart stood in the hall for several minutes after the lift's departure . . . then turned back and entered the flat.

* * * * * * *

The lights were on in the living area . . . just the lamps, giving everything a rosy glow and keeping the darkness trapped in the corners of the room. The bedroom was the same, lights on but softly lit. Vince hadn't wanted to lie down in the dark.

Stuart stepped up into the bedroom, seeing Vince curled on his side. They'd talked him into changing his clothes and he had chosen his worn cotton sleep pants. Alex had made him drink tea and fussed about with arranging the pillows, not arguing when Vince had pulled Stuart's pillow out of the arranged heap . . . holding it against his chest. Stuart and Hazel has sat with him, Stuart at his side as Hazel held Vince's hand. After a good while, Vince had agreed to try and rest. They'd waited for his breathing to even out before exiting the bedroom. Alex had called for a taxi while Hazel and Stuart stood in awkward silence, the two of them more privy to how devastating the event had been than Alex who was still not aware of Vince's first brush with violence.

Watching him lying there, Stuart spoke quietly. "I know you're not asleep."

Vince opened his eyes, and sat up against the pillows. "What gave it away?"

"None of your rumbling snores, for one." He circled round the bed, kicking off his shoes.

Vince watched the slow movements that Stuart made. He held out a hand. "Come here."

Stuart walked to him, standing between Vince's legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. Silence reigned; nothing above the rustle of clothing was voiced. They held their positions, Stuart with his hands on Vince's shoulders and Vince's hands on Stuart's hips. At Stuart's slight grimace, Vince frowned. He met Stuart's gaze as he raised the red jumper, waiting for Stuart to lift his arms before pulling it off. Vince waited on looking down, reaching forward with blind hands to undo Stuart's belt and undoing his ruined pants. Eyes never leaving their mates, Vince eased the fabric over slim hips until Stuart was nude before him. And then, he looked down.

The bruise was deep, but covered only a small area over Stuart's hip. The width of the toe of their assailant's shoe.... The knowledge was almost as jarring as the contact had been. For Stuart, seeing Vince locked in the moment . . . watching as his lover ran gentle fingers over his skin, as he leaned in and kissed the mark.... Stuart inhaled a deep breath and then hugged Vince to his body. "Talk to me."

"I'm sorry. If I'd...."

Stuart pulled back, cupping Vince's face. "I'm not hearing you say that again, Vince. This wasn't about us. It was about that fucker. There wasn't anything you could have done, or me for that matter. We got out of it, and it's over."

"He could have. You almost...."

"But it didn't, Vince. It didn't." Stuart kissed Vince, slow and easy. He drew Vince into the touch, not letting their lips part until each was breathless. "Bed, yeah? Sleep now. And then tomorrow, we'll handle things." Drawing Vince down onto the bed, Stuart sighed as they curled together. He closed his eyes as Vince tangled a hand through his curls and rubbed Stuart's neck. Together they rested, waiting on sleep to take them from their troubled thoughts. It was long in coming. But eventually for both, it came.

* * * * * * *

"Yeah, I'll tell him you said so. The list of my cards is in the side cabinet in the kitchen - the one with the handle handing half off. No, I’m fixing it. I will. If you bring the list when you come by this afternoon, I'll call and cancel the numbers. Oh and I called Sandra. She's got Stuart's records on file - company card and all the rest. Said she'd email Stuart the info. You're coming round three, yeah? Okay. Yeah, bye."

Stuart woke to Vince's hushed voice. He rolled over to see out in the kitchen, where Vince was sitting at the island while on the phone. Squinting at the clock, Stuart saw it was after eight in the morning. "Fuck me," he moaned as he sat up . . . feeling the stitch in his side and the sensitive reminder on his hip. He bent his head and scrubbed his hands through his tangled bed-head hair, leaving a wild mop in his wake. Hearing Vince's feet padding over the wood flooring, Stuart lifted his eyes and smiled at Vince's shaking head. "What?"

"It's all clear to me now."

Frowning, Stuart asked, "Again, what?"

"Why your innumerable shags rarely ever made it till morning. One look at you like this, and they'd have lost all their life illusions."

While privately happy to see Vince in better humor than he thought he'd find him, Stuart wasn't about to let that comment go without a serious demonstration to the opposite. He slowly stood from the bed, standing naked with arms at his sides and just looked at the man before him. Looked at the man he wanted to touch, who wanted to touch him in return. No matter the situation, no matter anything - one look. The look. And Stuart knew he had his man. The way Vince's eyes went heavy lidded, his mouth open and chest rising with a deep breath. Stuart knew the response intimately. And with slow determined steps, a swagger of slim hips and hypnotizing come-to-me eyes . . . Stuart went to say good morning to the delicious wreck that was Vince Tyler in love.

Prowling forth, feline grace in passion's frame, Stuart stopped a breath from Vince's flushed form. Eyes locked on parted lips, wet with a nervous glide. Hungry for more than food, for a taste of what he knew would be given . . . Stuart dove across the brief distance and bit into Vince's kiss. A split second of teeth housing Vince's lip, and all was then moisture and sliding friction. Kissing till they fell into needing more, Stuart pulled back and took Vince's hand. He turned and led Vince into the bathroom. A bath, hot water and spiced bubbling jets of liquid pleasure. Fuck yes.

* * * * * * *

Water filled and jets running, Stuart turned from putting bath oil in the calling swirls at the touch of a hand on his waist. Vince had removed his sleep pants, a sheen of sweat covering his body from the steam. But his eyes, they held a serious expression that had tumbled the desire out of their vibrant depths. The cause was evident with the touch of his fingers on Stuart's hip.

"Doesn't hurt, Vince."

With a sudden angry jerk of his head, Vince said, "It shouldn't fucking be there." His voice echoed loudly through the room, off the tile . . . surprising Stuart. It was rare to see Vince truly pissed. And for all his satisfaction at knowing Vince was that protective of him, Stuart decided pulling that anger forward might prove beneficial to them both.

"Thought you liked seeing me marked." At Vince's frown, Stuart asked in a snide tone - one meant to push the man's buttons, "All those years of watching me, seeing what you hadn't gotten given to others - wanting to take what they had touched. What is it Vince? You just pissed that you weren't the one to put it there?"

Vince stood still as death, face white and eyes hot with burning anger. The experience of watching a person shutdown visibly, there was nothing that hit Stuart harder then when he saw it happening to Vince. The dread of seeing that expression in Vince’s eyes felt like a punch to the gut, weighing down each moment that it lasted between them.

In the span of time it took to witness his words having the opposite effect than he’d intended, Stuart reached out to ground himself in the silence of the fury . . . only to have Vince jerk back and turn to leave.

Escape - it was Vince’s usual response to internalized pain. Escape and enforced separation, the latter being the more bitter punishment. And the private fear that the separation would be lasting . . . it wasn’t something Stuart had ever been resigned to handle well.

"Vince, wait." Grabbing out, determined that this wasn’t over, Stuart wrapped his arms around Vince’s waist. Even the touch that had so calmed the fire through which they’d traveled, wasn’t tempering to the blind anger in Vince. He continued to walk away, Stuart holding him back and struggling to keep him still. They stumbled roughly across the small distance to the door as Stuart repeated Vince’s name in a plea to gain his attention - to draw him back to clarity of why this was necessary.

As they reached the doorway, Stuart tried to pull him close. "This is why, Vince. You can feel it. I know you do. Feel the anger and the violation of one mark. And THINK. Think what seeing dozens more, over half your body, was like for me. Knowing I wasn’t there to stop it. That nothing within me was capable of making it not have happened. THIS is what lived inside of me then, and it’s what I know is inside you now."

Vince shook with the conflict of mind and body, his instinct to keep moving at war with his mind’s newer realization of the why behind Stuart’s hurtful words. He fell back against the wall, Stuart’s body pressing into his as they tripped over their tangled feet.

Stuart felt them falling, seeing Vince’s arms go wide as they reached back to gain support. And in one instant their world flashed as Vince’s arm hit the light switch, jarring the mechanism as a surge exploded two of the ceiling light bulbs over head. Ears filled with deafening pops of bursting glass, Stuart gasped and flinched - the room flooded in darkness.

Stiffening with shock, Vince slid on numb legs to the floor - covering his head as he curled over his raised knees, one hand clutching at his lover’s arm. All thought of anger gone, replaced by patent fear.

Reaching blindly along Vince’s arm, Stuart knelt and pulled Vince close. They sat in the dark room, heaped together as Stuart worked to ease Vince’s shaking. He ran his hands over Vince’s back, up through the spiky short hair that now limply framed the man’s sweat slicked forehead. With a kiss, one over each eye and then his mouth, Stuart comforted Vince’s rushing blood and eased his pounding heart.

Stuart knew the truth of Hazel’s suggestion in that moment. He had no thought left for antagonism or healing through spent fury. The risk of driving Vince from him was too fragile a course to hold. Instead they held the other as cherished. Together, quiet and in the dark.

* * * * * * *

"Stuart Alan Jones, the next time you pop up with a notion like this one - buy a clue and call the movers."

Sweat stinging his eyes, Stuart crouched down in the lift after securing the door. "Hazel, just pick up your end." He waited for her to help but she just stood there, smiling. That knowing smile, it had always been enough to make him fidget like a bad boy about to get what for. Course this time she was in on the crime, so sod it all. "You helping or what?"

"He’ll murder us for this." Hazel sighed, then bent to lend a hand. They stood upright, shifting about as they slowly walked to Stuart’s flat door with their load.

"No he won’t. Not if it’s up and done by the time he gets home."

"Cor! Listen to you. ‘Home’ is this now?"

Stuart shook his head, not in denial but in affectionate exasperation. "Just hustle it, Hazel. We need to get this set up so they’ll live." He kicked the flat door open, and they entered - finally setting the weight down on the space Stuart had cleared in his living area. Turning, he went into the kitchen as Hazel closed the door.

"How are the hostages?"

Stuart grinned. "Feeling guilty for aiding and abetting?"

"Innocent bystander, that’s me. You’re the one who kidnapped his fish." Hazel walked round to see the items laid out on the island. Vince’s Seven Doctors were swimming happily in the large round fish bowl that was usually reserved for when he changed the tank water out every so often. Beside them was bowl of washed gravel; the plastic plants and Daleks in a neat heap next to the sink.

And on the corner of the counter, still in plastic wrap, was a brand new miniature blue T.A.R.D.I.S.

Stuart saw her quirking a brow at all the items, but he didn’t bother to volunteer any information. Instead, he ran through the notes he’d made that morning when he’d called the woman recommended by Sandra. An expert in tropical fish, who had helped Sandra set up the tanks for the PR agency's lobby. Sandra had snickered after making the suggestion that Stuart was lowering the woman's talents to take care of simple goldfish. He’d been threatened with severe bodily harm against making snide comments to his assistant’s friend, reminded as well that this was a favor he should appreciate come time for her job review.

Taking fish girl’s advice, Stuart went about setting up the new aquarium tank. One that stood twice as tall as Vince’s old one, in a standing rectangle design. He tried not to pay attention to Hazel’s movements all around the loft as he worked. She was walking round, eyeing up all the touches of Vince’s continuing presence in Stuart’s world, smiling as she went. The tapes lining Stuart’s shelves, more than half Vince’s sci-fi collection were on display. He bit his lip and mentally groaned at her inspection, relieved when finally she went round to make them both a drink.

Two drinks each down, feeling mellow and an hour later, Stuart sat back and groaned. "Who the fuck knew fish were so complicated? They seem easy." The lights shining down through the water, glistening off their golden scales and over the neatly arranged Dr. Who battle ground below.

Hazel laughed, "Wasn’t every other month, we had to change out tanks - change out fish when Vince was growing up. Always something with those things. But he loved them." She watched the Doctors swimming round, each discovering its new home as they tested the boundaries of the glass. "Resilient little fuckers, the lot."

Stuart rested his head back, eyes closed as he nodded. "Fragile too." He voice thick with dark undertones. Silence followed, with only the filtered water lightly bubbling through the new pump in the foreground.

After a bit, Hazel asked the question she’d meant to ask before being pulled into the drama of fish transplanting, "You going to tell me how he’s getting on with his counseling?"

Stuart laughed. He had been waiting for her to ask all this while. "He’s taken to it, Hazel. Didn’t he tell you?" At her frown he said, "Face 2 Face - the center, they’ve got volunteers manning the phones and such. His counselor suggested Vince sit in on some calls to get a feel for how others responded to crisis. Three sessions of his own with that egghead and Vince decided to volunteer for a shift after I went back to work this week." He rose up and went to change out of his dirty, water splashed clothes. Calling out as he dressed from the bedroom, "He’s very good at watching out for people it seems."

Hazel said, "With all the practice he had looking after you, I should think that's a necessity."

It had been almost a fortnight since Stuart had taken Vince to Face 2 Face the first time. They'd gone under the pretense of dropping Alexander by for his own session, but Stuart had gone in to look around. He'd been impressed with what little he'd seen. Later that day he had called and talked to one of the fund raising promoters, figuring they'd answer all questions if the thought of money was hanging over head. What he'd found though, wasn't a greedy "yes" man on the line. The bloke was actually a counselor at the center, and was very gracious in his answers. Stuart found himself trusting the man enough to touch on he and Vince's recent attack, then Vince’s initial abuse. With thoughtful concern lacking in all condescension, the counselor had invited both he and Vince to come for a talk. Next day, Stuart packed Vince into the Jeep without a destination mentioned - and walked him into the center hand in hand. Vince couldn't have been more nervous. Or more annoyed. But Stuart refused to leave - for that or the second appointment. Next thing, Vince was going on his own to participate in the crisis calls.

The key to that was the on-his-own bit. Vince's frame of mind had improved, in leaps. He was laughing again. Teasing again. Happy again. And mostly all because he had found a sense of power and control in being able to help someone else.

"Stuart, I'm off. Don't want to be witness to the carnage and mayhem once he sees that lot here." Hazel was smiling as she gathered her coat up. She pecked Stuart goodbye and left.

Checking his watch, Stuart picked up the phone to order out dinner. An hour till Vince was due back. Time enough.

Stuart ordered Vince's favorites from the Indian restaurant they liked - samosas, papadam, chicken tikka, lamb vindaloo, pershawari naan and saag paneer. Too much, but all the good stuff. And Stuart had made a career on variety. And excess....

Minutes ticking close, Stuart went to finish up his plans.

* * * * * * *

"Stuart! You’ll never guess what’s hap…." Enthusiastic words said in a rush as Vince entered the flat, ending suddenly on a gasp as he took in the view. The place was dark except for three areas of soft light - cascading warmly in the kitchen, living room and bedroom. Rich spices of Indian food filled the air, with cartons spread out on the island counter. White light shone through the open slats of the bedroom blinds. But Vince’s eyes never saw passed the warm blue glow of the aquarium as it cast light shadows over Stuart’s furniture, and shone back in the reflection of the arched floor-to-ceiling window that made up most of one side of the flat’s exterior wall.

Speechless, Vince walked to the glass tank - eyes wide as he stood watching all seven swimming through their new home at his own eye level. No need any longer to bend down to check on them, that apparent as he brushed a finger down the long line of the glass from top to bottom. Frowning for just a bit, Vince pointed at each occupant - making sure they were all still there. He stopped when he saw the T.A.R.D.I.S. housed at the bottom, flattening his hand to the glass as a small smile lit his face.

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

Stuart’s voice sounded softly, the Irish accent lilting over each name as he moved out of the darkness to stand by Vince’s side. The two men shared a look, one that spoke to the history between them and the knowledge of what that litany meant for them both.

Vince cocked his head in question, "What’s this then?" He smiled when Stuart pulled him forward with an arm round his waist.

Kissing Vince’s temple, Stuart answered. "Thought they could do with a makeover, yeah?" He took Vince’s hand and walked over to the kitchen. "Besides, it means you can worry over them here rather than at yours."

Vince shook his head fondly, "Joint custody of the children." At Stuart’s laugh, Vince gave a tickle to his lover’s side - watching as the lithe man easily dodged the rest. "Bit grown up don’t you think?"

Stuart enjoyed the reference to that phrase, the sting having gone out of it long since. He let the silence answer for him as he laid out their spread of food. They ate hungrily, with only random snatches of items off each other’s plates. The companionship was as easy now as before they’d crossed the barriers between them, giving each man a private sense of relief at having one more worry shot down.

Vince came back to his news as they ate, talking round his food in his enthusiasm. Since he was still without a job, but on the ‘break’ that Stuart had been so adamant he take - Vince had been offered a part time position at the center. At first on a volunteer basis until his training was sufficient to handle crisis callers, but with his experience in management and talent for multi-tasking the staff was sure he’d be beneficial in their other ventures such as promotion and fund-raising. And if he thrived, then who knew what might come of it. He could possibly be taken on full-time given the experience needed.

Stuart smiled as he listened to Vince’s non-stop talking, each word lightening the aura of darkness that had threatened this man that he loved. Rambling as he was want, his Vince was a brilliant sight. And it made Stuart glad. Course, when the topic turned to the fish and did Stuart do this, and how’d he handle that and did he know he could have killed them - Stuart shoved their plates away and growled a warning at Vince to leave off. "That tank's big enough to house the entire cast of Red Dwarf, Tenth Planet, all the Star Treks and the seven Dr. Who’s combined, Vince. I’ll buy you more if those kick off."

But looking at Vince, Stuart was struck by the expression on his face - and knew without question that he’d been had. The little pisser was actually egging him on to get a rise. Good for him. Not that Stuart wasn’t about to make him pay….

Shooting Vince a look, the feral look that meant ‘prowl’ - Stuart gave only one warning, "Tyler, prepare to be boarded." And then he pounced.

* * * * * * *

"Please, Stuart. Please!"

Raising his head from his tormented lover's nipples, Stuart grinned wickedly.

They were sprawled over the bed, bodies slick and tangled - Stuart over Vince. Clothing was strewn from the living room to the bed, some of it more salvageable than others. Stuart had literally chased Vince into the room, tearing off his own clothes as Vince dashed round throwing off his own.

"You beg so nice, Vinnie. I like that." Capturing Vince's answering moan in a kiss, Stuart pressed the man's hands into the bedding - both wrists held firmly to the sides of Vince's head. He pulled back and watched Vince's face as he drove his hips down over those below, thrusting their hard cocks against each other. "This what you want, yeah? More of this..." Arching up, Stuart slipped his thighs down and under Vince's spread legs - driving them together until Vince was thrashing his head like crazy.

"More...now. Stuart, now. Please."

Stuart leaned in and whispered hot words in Vince's ear, "I'm gonna fuck you so good. Feel you gripping me, clenching me tight." He kissed Vince before he could answer, licking into the moist heat as tongue played over tongue. As they burned through the tasting, Stuart reached down and dipped his fingers between Vince's arse cheeks - pushing into the saliva-coated passage, wet and relaxed still from his earlier attentions. He spoke against Vince's mouth, "so hot for me, yeah? Gonna let me in?"

Vince arched against the fingers inside him, wrenching his hands free as he frantically reached for a condom packet. Putting all his need into a word, Vince gave the man above him his answer. "Stuart...."

Gut clenching at the need in that voice, Stuart rolled Vince over onto his side. He pressed against Vince's back, pulling his lover's thigh up to open the way. Covering his aching cock - slicking the length, Stuart bit possessively into the soft skin at the back of Vince's neck - holding him still as he focused on Vince's voice, the cry that chorused Stuart's push inside. Panting as they moved, the two drove into and against the friction . . . hard burying in soft over and over and over until it was their whole world. Hot breaths, pounding hearts, gasping calls, heat and sweat slippery limbs tangling in the sheets. Endless and yet not long enough.

Hands drawn together, stroked over Vince's leaking shaft . . . determined and insistent as they pressed into the fury of shag bliss. Stuart jerked in response to Vince's ragged moan, feeling the liquid coating his hand as Vince's body clenched his cock like a vice. Gritting his teeth with the force of heaven's pull, Stuart spasmed as his body burst forth. Vince's name sounded harshly through the flat as Stuart shook in the aftermath. He buried his head into the curve of Vince's throat, his arms circled around his lover's body - the two still joined together.

Minutes passed without notice and still they rested, limbs entwined. With reluctance, Stuart eased from his tempting sheath - disposing of the rubber before taking Vince into his arms again. He enjoyed the feeling of the evening air cooling his heated skin and the contrast of that with Vince's body covering his chest. Lulled by the massaging touch of fingers circling slowly through his hair, Stuart closed his eyes . . . ready to give in to the seduction of sleep.

On the cusp of oblivion, a drowsy voice murmured close to Stuart's ear. "Snails."

Vince shifted and snuggled closer as Stuart mumbled a questioning sound. Himself sounding far down the path of unconscious shutdown, Vince said the word in a half slur. "Snails."

Stuart's mouth quirked in a small grin at the inane mention of bottom-feeders as post-coital reflection. Only his Vince. That one thought bringing him to full clarity for a moment as he gave in to thankful realization. Opening his eyes, Stuart watched Vince sleeping . . . a sense of fate's course coming full circle with that one phrase. His Vince . . . only.

finis