Author: Steph
Title: Hard Day's Night
Rating: R/NC-17
Author's note: Unbetaed and written in two days because I'm a slacker
Feedback: Yes, please! I like to print it out and roll around in it
a la Scrooge McDuck. Make me happy!
Disclaimers: QaF, the series, characters and concepts are the property,
copyright and trademark of RTD and Channel Four. No ownership is claimed by the
author, this work is non-profit, non-commercial and not for sale and may not be
reproduced or sold for commercial purposes. Characters and situations not
specifically owned by the creators of QaF are the sole copyright of the author.
Summary: Vince just wants to go to bed.
Requirements: First "I love you." Happy birthday S/V yahoo group!
Hard Day's Night
“I got off late,” Vince explained, tiredly swiping at his eyes and balancing
his mobile phone between his ear and shoulder. “This year’s inventory is going
worse than any I’ve seen before. It doesn’t help that Simon Carter and Neil
Harris left, and the people who’ve replaced them are completely incompetent.
I’m doing everything by myself.”
“How long do you think you’ll be?” Stuart asked.
Vince looked around and took a moment to judge the distance. “I’m about five
minutes from my flat now. I need to change out of this bloody suit before I go
over to yours.”
“Why?” Stuart questioned mischievously. “It’s not as though you’ll be wearing
it long anyway.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth for the first time in that whole
miserable day. “Still though, I smell like raw meat and cheese. It’s lucky I
don’t have a dog, I’d be mauled.”
“So you’ll be at your flat soon?”
“Yeah, I’m a few blocks away, though I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to
find the strength to leave again once I get there. I’m so knackered I might
just pass out as soon as I walk through the door.”
“You’re saying you’re leaving me alone tonight then?”
“Of course not, Stuart. I’ll be there. Seeing you has been the only thing I’ve
looked forward to all day,” Vince assured him. “It’s only, driving all the way
to your flat seems impossible right now. I might as well be driving to
Bulgaria.” He pulled into a parking spot and sighed. “I’m finally home.”
“Jesus, and it’s only eleven.”
“Is it really? I have to be back there at twelve-thirty tomorrow afternoon.
Fuck.” He opened the door and climbed the flight of stairs leading to his door.
“Why don’t you just quit?” Stuart asked. “Get a job somewhere else. I could
probably get you something at Thrive if you wanted it.”
“I don’t need your charity, Stuart,” Vince ground out. “Anyway, it’s only this
one week a year where everything goes crazy. Come Monday it will be fine again.
Three more days.” The last part was said more to himself than Stuart. “Only
three more days of this.”
“It wouldn’t be charity. We need people who actually work over there. You
should see the absolute idiots they’ll hire. You’d be a welcome change. And can
you imagine us working together? It’d be brilliant.”
“It’d be catastrophe, is what,” Vince answered, smiling fondly. He fiddled with
his keys, finding the right one and sticking it into the lock on his door.
“What would I do there, exactly? Make coffee and lecture everyone on the pros
and cons of red versus green apples?”
He pushed open his door and froze in shock.
“I’m sure I could think of something to keep you occupied,” Stuart responded.
Except it didn’t come only from Vince’s phone, but also right there in from of
him. Stuart stood inside the door, his mobile phone to his ear, and a wide,
wicked grin on his face.
Like rain, Stuart’s presence washed away all the frustration and weariness of
the day. Vince didn’t stop to close the door or take off his jacket. He didn’t
even turn off his phone. Instead, he let it drop to the floor and propelled
himself into Stuart’s arms, enthusiastically attacking his mouth. Their hands
groped all over each other, trying to find purchase on their moving bodies.
They pulled back momentarily to let Vince rip Stuart’s shirt over his head. “I
tried to do something nice for you,” Stuart panted, “and you left me waiting in
your flat for three bloody hours.”
“I didn’t know,” Vince argued. He threw off his tan coat and went to work on
the buttons of his shirt.
Stuart’s mouth crashed into his again, and then neither man spoke as clothes
were shed and bodies entangled. They slipped and tripped on stray tapes and
blankets and carelessly tossed items of their own clothing as they made their
way blindly through Vince’s flat to his bed.
Stuart pressed the now naked Vince onto his back and grinned down at him predatorily.
“That’s quite a welcome.”
Vince shut his eyes and his lips stretched into a wide smile. “You’re the only
thing I wanted to see all day.”
“Good,” Stuart responded, sounding smug. Vince felt the mattress shift as
Stuart maneuvered himself over Vince’s body, and attacked his neck.
Vince writhed off the bed when Stuart’s lips and tongue and teeth began working
the sensitive skin behind his ear and down to his pulse point beating
erratically. Stuart didn’t stop there long, obviously understanding that Vince
had no patience for foreplay or Stuart’s torturous brand of slow, hot
seduction.
He scooted down and tongued at Vince’s nipples, knowing based on the experience
gleaned from their brief sexual relationship that stimulating them was a quick
way to drive Vince crazy. The soft, excited murmurs exhaled from Vince’s mouth
seemed to spur Stuart on. He traced each one until it was tight and throbbing,
making Vince’s breath speed up exponentially and his cock harden.
“Stuart…” he moaned, and then all he could see was a mop of black curls as
Stuart slid down the rest of his body and took Vince’s cock into his mouth.
He didn’t stand a chance after that, with Stuart’s talented hands and mouth
making his body strum and shudder. In fact, Vince didn’t even bother trying; he
just let Stuart work him to a quick, dirty, fantastic orgasm.
When he’d finished, Stuart slithered along Vince’s gasping, sweating body, and
rubbed his erection desperately against Vince. His face was dark with
concentration, and his usually springy hair was matted down on his head. He
looked utterly disheveled, and Vince fucking *loved* it.
He reached a hand down to help Stuart finish, and it only took five or six
long, firm strokes before Stuart came, their fluid mingling on Vince’s stomach
and thighs.
They laid still several moments, Stuart spread across Vince, while both men
regained their breath, and then Stuart rolled over and reached to grab some
tissues on the bed stand. He wiped Vince and himself clean before tossing the
tissues onto the floor.
“Mmm…you’re picking those up, you know,” Vince said.
“Later,” Stuart answered.
“What a way to come home,” Vince commented, his voice nearly a purr of
contentment. “It’s definitely something I could get used to.”
Stuart fell back onto the bed, and they both wriggled under the duvet. Vince
wrapped his arms around Stuart’s waist and rested his forehead against Stuart’s
back.
“You deserved it,” Stuart reasoned. “You’ve worked in that sweat shop forty
hours in the last four days.”
“Working at Harlo’s isn’t exactly like performing slave labor in Thailand,”
Vince corrected in an amused voice. “Not that I’m complaining about the
blowjob, mind.”
“Hmph, as if you’d complain about that. I was brilliant, as usual.”
“And always so modest,” Vince noted.
“Who cares about modesty? Modesty’s for people who give a fuck what other
people think of them. It’s lying to avoid looking as though you’ve noticed the
good things about yourself. What’s the use in that? I’m lovely, I know that, so
I might as well admit it.”
There was Stuart in Vince’s bed after a long, tedious day of inventory and
dealing with the still-bitter Graham. One month ago, Vince would have never
believed something like this could ever happen. But Stuart had surprised him,
had waited around his flat for three hours because he knew Vince would be too
tired to make it to his place. Things were different, but yet fundamentally
still so much the same that it made Vince’s chest hurt. Mad. Completely,
completely mental.
“I love you,” Vince said against Stuart’s skin.
He felt the other man tense up, and he smiled into one of Stuart’s shoulder
blades.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” Stuart demanded.
“What?” Vince asked.
“You ruined a perfectly good shag with that sentimental bollocks,” he answered.
Vince tipped his forehead so that it lay on the base of Stuart’s neck. “I see.
My mistake.”
“Too fucking right it is. You’re not to say that again in bed.”
“All right,” Vince agreed amicably, noting Stuart hadn’t forbid him to say it
*ever.* “’S true though.”
“Ack. I’ve half a mind to take a shower and wash away off these lesbian
*feelings* you’ve gotten all over me.”
“Go on then,” Vince urged. Stuart didn’t move. “Well?”
“Tomorrow. It’s half midnight now, and I’m knackered.”
“Please, Stuart. You usually stumble into bed at three from Canal Street.”
“I wasn’t on Canal Street tonight, was I? No, I was here all bloody night like
a twat waiting around for you.”
“I’m sorry. I said I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t supposed to. It was a surprise. I try to do something nice, and
this is what happens. I end holed up here watching repeats of Buffy the Vampire
Slayer.”
“Mmm…but Spike. Nice.”
Stuart grunted in agreement. “Yeah, Spike, but I liked that Xander bloke
better. Dark hair, strong body, bit of a twat.”
“The actor has an identical twin too,” Vince told him.
“One for each of us then.”
“Sounds good.” Vince yawned loudly.
“Jesus, go to sleep.”
“I need to set my alarm.”
“I’ll wake you up tomorrow.”
“All right. Good night, Stuart.”
“Night, Vince.”
Vince tucked one of his legs between both of Stuart’s and wrapped himself more
thoroughly around him.
“I love you,” he repeated, a moment before sleep.
Stuart snorted. “And I hate you, you twat,” he responded scathingly, but at the
same time he brought his hands down, pressed them over Vince’s at his waist and
squeezed.
Vince smiled as sleep finally carried him away, because he knew what Stuart
really meant.