Title: A Mild Proposition(2/?)
Author: Sonata Night
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: James/Richard
Summary: Richard begins to question whether or not a relationship with James is a good idea, and ends up in a situation that may further change their relationship, for better or for worse.
Notes: Set pre-accident for Richard, hence the liquor. :P
Disclaimer: Fish are friends, not food - Erhm, I mean, all of this is purely from my imagination.



Richard's brain stops, his body seems to freeze and go numb simultaneously; he gapes at James like a fish until James reaches out and puts his fingers under Richard's chin and pushes up, closing Richard's mouth. "Fish." He says.

Richard breathes again, and mumbles out, "Right. Erhm. Well, ah, when?" James and he skitter around the real question of "What might happen to our friendship?", and finally Richard growls and stops, gets in front of James. "You know, if we're going to do this, we can't keep dancing around issues."

"Yeah. Well, not tonight. I need to get some stuff done around the house - my fridge has a couple things that I've been avoiding tossing in case I do eat it, except now it's starting to move of its own accord." Richard snerks into his palm, feigning a sneeze.

"Shut up, you tosser," James gives Richard a dry stare. "Or do I have to mention the fork and spoon that were in the back of your car for three months before I finally removed them myself?"

"That's not rotting food!" Richard replies, offended. Jeremy passes the two of them and they hush up, as if simply by being near them he can read their minds about what is going on, the physicality that has started up between them. It makes no sense. "Well, do you want to come over tomorrow or something? I'll order something to eat." His fridge is in a similar state of disarray as James. First thing they will talk about is what has actually brought James to say yes.

"I. Well, since I gave you a ride here, I figure that I should give you one back." James said. "So we can talk a little bit now." Richard nods and follows James to his car, sliding into the seat and playing with the hem of his shirt. James sits next to him, starts the car, and they glance at each other awkwardly.

"If I can ask-"

"Why?" James knows what he's going to say, probably because he's been thinking about it himself. "I'm not sure, really. But - I think it started when you were talking about my philtrum."

"Hm?" Richard stares at his knees, not sure what he's supposed to do. Is he supposed to take James' hand and squeeze it and be all mushy with him? Is he supposed to just be physical and say something like, "I want you now, ooh baby?" This is very new to him.

"You looked so nervous, but so cute. And I've always thought that you had an air of cuteness about you, but I mean, not in a sexual way. Just a very sweet way. And then this morning, y'know, I woke up and you were kissing me, and I figured I'd let you because you seemed to be enjoying it. And it wasn't like anyone was watching, and it was odd, but it was also you, Hamster, and not so weird as some other bloke." James is focusing very intently on the road, and Richard flushes.

"Oh. Well. I mean, were you enjoying it?" Richard fiddles some more with his shirt. James looks at him, starts laughing very quietly, as if trying not to offend Richard with some huge joke at his expense.

"You have this very sweet, very anxious expression right now." James tells him. "I mean, it was early morning, it didn't feel too bad - okay, fine, it felt pretty bloody good, in all honesty, and I mean, I don't know. If I had a clue why I was saying yes, do you think I'd be being quite so verbose?'

Richard bites his lip, offers a half-smile at James.

When James drops him off, although he previously stated that he has something to do, he follows Richard in and when Richard turns around, James is in far closer proximity than Richard was expecting. "Ehm?" Richard asks. "Would you like something to drink?"

He's tried to play it cool, but seeing as he has James' crotch almost pressed against his, cool is going out the window. What is with his body reacting to James so much lately?

"I was thinking - I'm free tonight, if you'd like to try what we did this morning again tonight, I mean, the whole kissing and fooling around and everything. I can come over and if things aren't going well, then we can just go to bed?"

Now it is James who looks fumbling and lovely and Richard shrugs, answers, "Alright, I guess that works." James leans in and kisses him first and Richard catches the back of James' skull, pulling him near and letting out a low breath.

Just as abruptly, they let go, and Richard manages to get out, "Why did you do that?" James rubs his chin, traces his fingers over his lips, and shakes his head.

"It seemed like I should, if we're trying this whole ... I don't even know what it is."

"Do you think that talking about it would sort it out?" James shakes his head. "Why not?"

"Because I've no clue and also because this has only just started and what am I going to figure out? That I'm confused? I already know that, Hamster. I mean, I think I enjoyed that just now. It was odd, yeah, but the more I snog you, the more I like it. That was, what, our third time doing that and I-"

Richard cuts him off. "Right. I understand. Look, you go do what you're going to do. I'll go do what I'm going to do. If you stop by later, we'll see what happens. And if nothing else, I'll have dinner for us."

James leaves soon after and Richard lies down to take a nap - he didn't get enough sleep as night. He falls asleep quickly, but his dreams are terrible.

The studio was oddly quiet, surprisingly. Usually, people were bustling about, trying to prepare for that day's show, and you couldn't find a place to stand without getting shoved out of the way and told, "Somewhere else." But it was empty, except for a couple people wandering in and out of rooms. Richard didn't recognise them, but a badge told him that they were interns. No wonder. Interns could come and go very fast.

He didn't recognise any of the names on the doors either. Since when did a Sid Higbain work there? Or Louis, XV? Okay, now that one had to be wrong. The fifteenth? What kind of family kept naming their family the same name over and over for fifteen generations?

Also, it appeared that all the signs were in French. "Arrêtez, il est interdit de continuer avant de ce point." He read. Well, bloody hell, he didn't know what it meant.

"Bonjour," a gravely voice said. He turned to see Jeremy. "Jer!" He said, pleased to find someone he knew.

"Vous êtes interdit de passer," Jeremy said, pointing at the door. "Mais, Il vous attend. Faites votre choix." Richard stared at him in confusion. What was he saying?

"C'est votre faute." Jeremy continued, shaking his head sadly. "Si vous n'avez pas dit à lui comment vous vous sommes senti, puis nous serions des amis encore." And then he turned and walked away, leaving Richard staring in confusion. He looked at the sign again. Then he opened the door. Maybe someone else would be there and know what was going on.

James was sitting there, sipping on a cup of coffee, a cigarette burning in the ashtray next to him. He was reading a book, "Heart of Darkness", it appeared.

"Hey," Richard said. "Tell me you speak English." James glanced up and over at him. His face clouded darkly and he closed the book.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" He said, sounding angry. "I told you, I never wanted to see your face again. Not after what you did to me. To us," he gestured between them, and past Richard, out the door, and Richard realised he meant Jeremy as well.

"What - what did I do?" Richard asked, confused. He noticed a black cat sitting on a chair that he could have sworn wasn't there before. The black cat eyed him, greenish-gold eyes seeming to gleam, a cold glare.

James snorted. "Vous savez ce que vous avez fait."

"No, no, no! What is with everything here being in French?" Richard cried. "I want to speak English." James picked up the cat, stroked it, and it bumped its head under his chin, still watching Richard.

"Mais, vous ne devez pas parler l'anglais. En parlant l'anglais, vous parlez les mots incorrects. Parlez le français, et vous parlerez les mots corrects." James murmured. His eyes met Richard's, held, and Richard noticed that the anger had been replaced by sadness. "Bon chance, Richard."

Richard stared as James walked past, still holding the cat. It hissed at him. He was left staring at the book on the table. He walked over, opened it, flipped through it. Little notes were written throughout, on symbolism and the corruption of mankind.

He left the room and found himself staring at ... how in the hell had a loo materialised in the center of the hallway? Everything was there, a sink, a shower, a toilet, a mirror on the wall. He looked in the mirror and gaped. Since when did mirrors show people that were NOT you? Was this a reverse vampirism thing?

James was there, with Jeremy. "I'm not sure what to do." James said to Jeremy. "We... well... he snogged me. And I didn't want him to. And I don't think I can face him again. He tried more but I stopped him."

Jeremy nodded, surprisingly calm. "Well, then you don't have to. I'll tell him not to come in here. And I'll make sure that you don't have to see him ever again. It'll mean the end of the show - but it's his fault, anyways."

"Thanks, Jezzer. I knew I could count on you," James said, giving Jeremy a sad, sad smile. "I don't know what else to do."

And then Jeremy was leaving, closing the door, and there was Richard, and that was Jeremy, telling him "Vous êtes interdit de passer."

"Now do you see?" Jeremy's voice, close to his ear. Richard spun around, saw how angry Jeremy looked. "This is all your fault."

Richard awakes with a sharp cry, and finds himself covered in sweat. He's also suddenly scared that he's screwed up his friendship with James, with Jeremy, and that everything's going to be terrible. He needs to talk to James as soon as possible.

He grabs his mobile, starts to dial James' number, and then stops. James will be over late- He glances at the clock. "Oh, fuck!" He moans. How the hell did it get to be so late? It's already 9:32. He meant to call James around 8. He finishes dialing and puts the phone to his ear.

"'Lo?" James sounds bored.

"Sorry I didn't call till now. I fell asleep and only just woke up.” Richard says by way of greeting. James hmms and Richard continues. “Uh, want to come over? I need to talk to you about something.”

James hmms again. Richard takes this as a yes. “Sorry I’m calling so late. I’m guessing you’ve eaten dinner already? I’ll just make something for myself and when you get here, if you want any you can have some.”

“Mm. Well, you do that, and I’ll be over. “ James hangs up, rather abruptly, and Richard looks at the phone as he hangs up, somewhat confused.

He wanders around the kitchen, debates what the fastest thing to cook is, and ends up just making and sandwich, wolfing it down hungrily. He brushes his teeth, changes into something less wrinkled, and stares at himself in the mirror. This time, he sees himself.

“I don’t even bloody know French,” he mutters to himself. He hears a knock at the door and scurries to answer it, seeing James there. Yes, that’s James, one of his two best mates, and he’s not remotely attracted to the man. He can’t be. Doesn’t want to screw up anything between them.

He doesn’t look at James’ mouth, or his philtrum, and definitely doesn’t think about how James was standing in his kitchen earlier with his shirt off, still damp from the shower. He knows he’s not thinking about kissing James the night before, and how James gripped his arms so tight that it almost hurt.

Oh fuck. No, he will talk to James and they will never do that again. “Hey,” he says. His voice is a bit lower than normal, slightly shaky. Oh, fuck.

“Hello,” James says. He looks just as nervous and stiff as Richard feels. “So, what did you eat for dinner?”

“Just a sandwich.” Richard answers. Yes, this conversation is certainly evidence of how he’s bollocksed up their friendship. He sighs. “Look, I think we both know we need to have a bit of a chat about last night and this morning.”

“Right.” James follows him into the kitchen where he takes a seat as Richard moves to begin making tea. Tea always helps to fix things. He leans against the counter and fiddles with his fingernail.

“So, I’m guessing you had a good nap?” James asks, “since you didn’t call until half past nine?” He offers Richard a quirked grin, trying to lighten the mood. However, Richard shakes his head.

“No, actually, the dream was pretty bad. And in French.”

“I didn’t know you knew French.” James raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t!” Richard protests. “I don’t! And that’s why I’m confused. But basically, well. Everything was in French and I had no clue what was going on until I looked into a mirror and saw you and Jeremy and you were talking in English.”

“Generally, mirrors show your own reflection, not someone else. Are you sure it wasn’t a window?” James asks, looking a bit amused now.

Richard gives him a look and says, “I know what both look like and this was a mirror. You were telling Jeremy that I’d kissed you and you hadn’t wanted me to and that you didn’t want to see me ever again,” he watches James’ face soften a bit in understanding, “and I don’t know. Jeremy was telling me something in French and I think he was telling me that I shouldn’t go into the room, and you were in there, and I went in anyways and you told me you never wanted to see me again. Oh, but then you started speaking French too.”

James gets up and crosses the room, standing next to Richard. “And you got upset over this dream? The fact that I was speaking French as well didn’t tip you off to the fact that it wasn’t real?”

Richard sighs. “I’m just afraid that, well, I mean, when I called, you sounded all uncomfortable and I’m just worried that if we do try anything, we won’t be able to be friends and we’ll get all screwed up and then working together will be uncomfortable.”

James pats Richard’s shoulder. “Well, if that’s a problem, we don’t have to do anything. I mean, I’m not sure myself why I said I was interested. Maybe we were both just having a very odd moment and now our brains are catching up to us.”

Richard nods. “That’s probably it.” He finishes making two cups of tea and hands one to James, testing his and wincing as he burns his tongue. “Ow.” He says.

James cradles his cup with both hands, having moved back to the table. “You’re an idiot,” he says affectionately. Richard smiles at him, more at ease. “So, it’s decided that we’re not going to have another snog.”

“What, were you looking forward to one?” Richard asks, startled at the little lurch of … eagerness? in his stomach.
James avoids the question and Richard doesn’t pursue it. “Want to go to the pub? I’ll buy.” James asks instead. “Come on, maybe a drink will take your mind off your extremely odd dream.”

Richard lets James lead him outside to his car and slides in, settling down against the comfortable seat. “Remind me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t having a drink what got this whole situation started in the first place?”

James glances over at him. “Well, yeah, but then, I was the one who said I was interested in your idea, and you’re the one telling me that it’s not a good idea, so, I’m assuming that you’ll be able to keep your rationale and not attempt to jump me.”

Richard laughs nervously. He doesn’t trust himself after last night. Maybe if he only has a beer, rather than several, he’ll be fine. Of course, yesterday, all he wanted to do was kiss James, and play with his hair. And this morning, he wanted to rub himself against James until he came, and now, he wants to drag James into bed and shag him. Right, things are progressing rather interestingly.

The scenery passes by and he focuses on that, a tree, a man jogging with his dog, a car parked at the side of the road, and finally the pub appears. James parks and they head inside, and Richard swears to himself that he will only have one drink, maybe two.



Four beers later, Richard is talking his arse off. Thankfully, it’s about anything but James. “So, do you ever think about what’s going to happen after Top Gear ends? Do you think we’ll still stay good friends, or will we drift apart?”

James sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I think we’ll stay friends. You can’t do this many episodes of the same show with the same persons, go out to a pub as often as we do, and just cock about like we do and then just cut one of those persons out of your life. You’d feel like you’re missing something too much.”

Richard nods, takes a sip of his fourth – no fifth, oh damn – beer. “I don’t want to lose track of you or Jeremy. Maybe we should all just go on to make some show for old men with arthritis, the best comfy cars that don’t go above 40 kilometers per hour and are nice on the haemorrhoids.”

James snerks into his beer, coughing and wiping at the dampness around his mouth. “Jeremy’s getting awful close to that anyways. Give him another, oh, five or six years at best and he’ll be all shaking a cane at anyone who comes too close, ‘Get off my lawn!’ and the such.”

Richard begins to make a weak attempt at a joke about James’ age, but stops. After all, he’s honestly only a few years behind as well. James catches his eye and says, “Well, you look like a movie star. You’ll always be … well, maybe not young and beautiful, but at least only middle-aged and cute.”

Richard rolls his eyes. “And that puts you where?” He puts down his beer – definitely needs to stop drinking because he wants to reach over and take James’ hand and just … hold it, squeeze it, and smile at James because James is for once, not making Richard want to smack him.

James seems to be reading his mind. “We’ve been here almost an hour and a half – why’ve you not told me to bugger off yet?” He crosses his hands behind his head, leans back, gazes at Richard with a sort of smirk on his face.

“Keep that expression up and I will tell you to bugger off,” Richard shoots back, smirking just as well. “Maybe because I know you’re a shite kisser and shouldn’t hurt your feelings even worse.”

James lets out a bark of amusement. “Oh, right, and you’re far better. Your tongue was like a slimy eel trying to invade my throat.” But Richard knows he’s kidding, because of the twinkle that’s come into James’ eye. And ohgod, does he look attractive, with that laugh and that sparkle in his eye, he just looks so good. Richard knows that two days ago, James was just another mate and that if he had been in this exact situation two days ago, he would have been enjoying himself and would have thought that, well, actually, he wouldn’t have been in this situation two days ago because he wouldn’t have kissed James two days ago, and he wouldn’t be thinking how attractive James is.

But the thing is, James is not remotely attractive, in a normal fashion. In a very weird way, he’s attractive. It’s how he looks like someone took a bad 80s hairband in terms of hair fashion, a gay cowboy’s clothing fashion, and added in the heavily lined face of Steven Tyler, and then stuck an overly large nose in the center.

But he’s still attractive, because then you look at him, and it’s a very sweet smile that can have a gently jesting sort of quality to it and the urge to tuck that long hair back from his face, and the way that he can look at you, and really, really see you.

And the fact that he really is a bloody brilliant kisser might have something to do with it, and strong forearms, and a very lovely chest when he walks into one’s kitchen only half-dressed.

Richard becomes very, very aware of his erection. “Ehm, James. I’ll be right back, alright?” He stands, hurries to the toilets, praying that James doesn’t notice his not so little problem. Locking himself into a stall, he leans against the wall. “Oh, fuck all,” he groans. What is going on?

He breathes in and out slowly, tries to ignore the fact that his erection is not going away, mostly because he can’t get his mind off James out there, and James last night, James this morning, and what could be James in his bed again, and he doesn’t even realise it at first, but he’s moving his hand to his jeans, undoing the zip, and reaching inside to pull out his cock, stroking slowly, leaning into the wall, and just thinking of James.

He’s almost ready to come when he realises just what he’s doing, when the surge of adrenaline and urgency sweeps through him, and it jolts him out of his state of bleary-minded need. His breath catches in his throat and he forces himself to stop. He’s not going to get himself off in a pub.

His brain is very addled by the need for sex, by the need for sex from James, or at the very least, for James to be kissing him again. He takes another deep breath, and tries to put his brain together. It doesn’t work very well. Putting himself back together again, he heads back to James. “I think we should get me back to my place, before I drink any more,” he says.

James apparently finished off his drink while Richard was in the loo – for fifteen minutes - and hands Richard the keys to his car. “Alright, I said I’d take you out, so you go get my car and I’ll pay for far too many beers.” Richard watches James disappear into the crowd at the bar, although it has noticeably thinned out, and he realises that it’s already quarter to one in the morning.

When they get back to Richard’s, James pauses as Richard opens the door. “Are we alright?” Richard glances at him.

“This is a really stupid thing to say,” Richard admits, “But I want you to come in.”

James regards him carefully. “Are you sure you want that? Or are you saying this because you’re a bit tippled,” he says with a knowing smile, “and not thinking clearly?”

Richard slides back in the car abruptly and leans over and kisses him, hard, so hard that teeth clack and James gives a muffled protesting noise and then Richard hears the car engine turn off.

“This is definitely related to the alcohol, isn’t it? Two nights in a row?” James mumbles against Richard’s mouth, warm breath sending a thrill down Richard’s spine, and in his stomach, there’s something like frozen lightning churning within, and he can’t help it anymore, he’s too far gone on kissing James again, it makes no sense, but he whispers back, incoherently. “Hm?” James asks, still kissing, suddenly sounding almost as far gone as Richard.

“Come inside.” Richard says, a bit beyond asking and a bit closer to pleading.

“There’s only one problem,” James manages to get out in between frantic kisses, breathing harshly. “How are we getting out without stopping this,” and he cups Richard’s cheeks to accentuate what he means. Richard laughs and accidentally bites James’ lip, leading to his yelp of pain, and them jerking apart. “Well, never mind.” James says, sounding indignant. “If you hated me that much-“

“House. Now.” Richard orders. “We are having another talk, one that is making a lot more sense than what I brought up earlier.”

James slides out of the car, and Richard’s head is reeling as he almost bolts for the door, hand shaking a bit too much to slide the key in the lock at first, and when he gets inside, he heads straight for the kitchen and sticks his head under the sink, hoping it’ll clear his thoughts.

It doesn’t. Now he’s freezing cold, soaking wet with water dribbling down his face, and staring at James in complete embarrassment, and still wants to snog him some more. Well. That was an utter waste of time.

James stares at him, fighting back a grin, and fails. “You’re a complete pillock, you know that, right?”

“Right. Going to change now.” Richard heads for the bedroom, thoughts racing. Is he going to follow me? What happens if he does? Are we going to shag? I sound like a 14 year old boy. Get it together, Hammond. I wonder what he’s thinking right now…

Thankfully, his internal dialogue goes on for so long that he has changed out of his wet shirt and into a dry one, and turns around to see James watching him. “Ah…” He begins, and does not finish.

James is leaning against the door, looking fairly nervous. “I’ve no clue why I was so calm yesterday, because right now, I’m really very confused and surprised and not sure what’s going on or what I should do.”

“Oh, good. That makes two of us. Should we ring Jeremy and ask his opinion?” Richard asks. He sits on the bed, then cautiously pats next to him. “Sit? Talk?”

“Not sure if that’s a good idea, honestly. Seeing as every time I get within a foot of you, I end up snogging you.” James remains where he is, stuffing his hands into his pockets while Richard starts pacing again. James lets out a long, heaving sigh. “Would you knock that off? I told you, if you keep up with the walking in circles again, you’re going to make me sick.”

Richard turns to look at James just as James finishes crossing the room to put his hands on Richard’s shoulders and push him onto the bed. And there they are, with James above Richard, holding him down, Richard sitting and staring up at James, and James retreats quickly.

“No.” Richard murmurs, unintentionally, and James looks at him in surprise. “I mean – oh fuck.”

“What in gods name is going on with us, Hamster?” James doesn’t sit next to him, but he does sit on the floor in front of Richard, and that has to be uncomfortable. Richard doesn’t reply, just shakes his head.

“I have no clue. One day, you’re just James, my co-presenter, and now you’re James, who I’ve become strangely attracted to. Want to explain what you did? Wear some new cologne? Get mind-control powers overnight?” Richard asks.

“I think I’d like to know why I’ve been so inclined to kiss you back and why the idea of kissing you in general is just seeming like something that we should do, like we should have been doing for a while, or something. Because that’s what it feels like. ‘Oh yes, this is Richard Hammond, and we’re on Top Gear together, and we’ve got a very odd relationship because we snog at night. We don’t understand it, but we do it anyways.” James looks annoyed now and Richard falls silent. “I mean, I don’t feel like my masculinity or sexuality is being threatened. I’m not insecure about that. It’s odd, but nothing that is overwhelming. But generally, I’m attracted to women.”

“And I’m not?!” Richard squawks, indignant. His expression must have been incredible because James falls backwards laughing, cracking his head against the wall.

“Ow, you bastard, you made me hit my skull on your stupid wall,” James complains and sits back up, rubbing the back of his head. “You’re just causing me all sorts of injury tonight, aren’t you? Lip biting, skull cracking, what’s next, are you just going to kick me in the bollocks and be done with it?”

Richard doesn’t reply. He can’t. He’s just done thinking. He’s tired, his brain has switched off, and any attempts at figuring out his suddenly wavering sexuality isn’t going to work tonight. “Sorry I bit you,” he says, lying back against the pillows. He stares at the ceiling for a while, then his eyes fall shut. He hears James collect himself as he stands, the weight of James on his bed, next to him.

“Shove over,” James mutters. “Why am I sleeping in your bed again?”

“I’m not sure. Why are you?” Richard asks, already half-asleep, too tired to even care that James is right next to him. He shuffles over a few inches to make room for James, and sleepily reaches over to pat James’ shoulder. “Are we alright?”

“We’re alright.” James says. “Do you think if we just shag and get it done with, we’ll figure out what’s going on?”

Richard pauses. “The thought had not crossed my mind. Maybe? I think at this point, getting any further in figuring out where we are would be an accomplishment. We’re stuck in a rut of, ‘Oh. Ehm. Excuse me, I’m sorry. That is… well, are you alright? Good, uhm. Oh. I’ll go now, shall I?’ and that’s not good.”

“You’re making breakfast in the morning,” James says.

“James?” Richard turns to face him. “Do you want to shag?” He keeps his eyes shut, even though he’s facing James. He’s not sure he can look at the other man right now.

“Do you?” James answers, and Richard peeks open one eye to see James looking just as nervous as Richard feels. Clearly, one of them is going to either have to do something or just leave. Richard takes in a long, deep breath and releases it.

He started this mess, maybe he should try to fix it. Biting his lip, he reaches forward, touches James’ hair. “It’s your fault, y’know. You had to have this long hair.” He tugs at the lock lightly, and James is silent, eyes tracking Richard’s face, not his hand, and Richard leans forward until they are nose to nose.

“It’s your call if we do or not. I guess I’m up for it.” James glances down quickly between them and Richard blushes bright red. “Not like that. Well, I mean, at least not yet.” Richard can’t believe he’s just said that and James looks just as surprised.

“So, are we doing this?” Richard asks.

James’ voice shakes only slightly. “I think we should try it,” he offers as agreement. His lips quirk upwards slightly. “After all, you can’t be as bad at sex as you are at kissing, because you’re shite at that-“

Richard moves in fast, kisses him hard. “Am I, now?” He whispers, fiercely. James swallows in … what? Desire? Apprehension? Both? He can hear the wetness of the noise and slowly undoes James’ button-down top, fingers brushing over the rough hair beneath.

“Question,” James gets out. “This is going to sound very strange but who’s…who’s going to do the actual, uhm…penetration?”

Richard stops cold, halfway down James’ stomach. “Whichever you prefer,” he says. He moves back up. “We don’t have to do that. I mean, I could just get you off, if you think that would work. I don’t exactly have any lube in the place anyways.”

James pulls Richard up to him again. “Why don’t we stop trying to plan and see what happens? We won’t have actual full-out … tonight.” Richard stares at James beneath him and decides that he would rather have James above him, because if James is above him, then Richard can’t freak out and run away if this gets too nerve-wracking.

And if James runs away, then that’s completely understandable.

He lets himself settle next to James again. “This is going to sound stupid, I think. But could you come here?” He asks the question almost meekly, and James slides half onto Richard, one leg between both of Richard’s, propped up on his left elbow, leaning above the smaller man.

“Are you comfortable?” James asks, trying to tease, but there is a look in his eye that Richard thinks might match something in his head that is Oh god he’s above me and there’s going to be possible handjobs and possibly more and this is something entirely new to me, and rather nervewracking.

“We seem to do better when we’re not talking,” Richarrd says. “Maybe we should get back to not talking?” He tries for looking alluring, succeeds at blinking his eyes a few too many times, and gives up. “Oh, bugger.” He mutters. “I was thinking that we’re acting a bit like teenagers trying out sex for the first time, but I think we’re worse than them.”

“I’m cool and collected,” James corrects him. “You’re the one batting your eyelashes like a poncy git.” He leans in whispers in Richard’s ear. “You actually tend to look more endearing when you’re not trying.”

“I thought you were going to stop talking,” Richard whispers back, very quietly into the shell of James’ ear. James does just that, but his lips don’t meet Richard’s. Instead, they brush against his neck, right below his ear, and move downwards, to the junction between his neck and collarbone, where he fucking nips at the skin, and Richard squeaks, and James snickers into the warmth of Richard’s skin, does it again more gently.

“Were you ever into having your neck kissed?” James asks, placing soft kisses along to the other side of Richard’s neck, and back up to Richard’s chin. His breath tickles, and Richard wiggles beneath him, finding his leg more aligned with James’ crotch now and noting that he’s not the only one who’s enjoying himself more than he should be.

“I never was until now,” Richard murmurs, letting James do whatever he so pleases. “Are you a fan of neck kissing?”

“Mm,” James confirms. Richard is enjoying himself immensely, but he is also tired, since he’s been up almost twenty hours now, and he finds himself dozing off to sleep against his own will. He loosely wraps an arm around James, who seems to have picked up on the tiredness, and lets himself drift. James will be here in the morning.

The warm, heavy weight of James on top of him is the last thing he notices before he is lulled into sleep.


Arretez, il est interdit de continuer avant de ce point - Stop, it is forbidden to continue past this point.

Vous êtes interdit de passer - You are forbidden from passing

Mais, Il vous attend. Faites votre choix - But, he is waiting for you. Make your choice.

C'est votre faute. Si vous n'avez pas dit à lui comment vous vous sommes senti, puis nous serions des amis encore. - It's your fault. If you hadn't told him how you felt, then we would be friends still.

Vous savez ce que vous avez fait. - You know what you did.

Mais, vous ne devez pas parler l'anglais. En parlant l'anglais, vous parlez les mots incorrects. Parlez le français, et vous parlerez les mots corrects. - But you shouldn't speak English. In speaking English, you speak the wrong words. Speak French, and you will speak the right words.