MORE THAN JUST PASSION
The boys have to take a chance.
A first time story.
Written: March 2007. Word count: 500.
Passion spent, the two men lay loosely entangled in one another's arms, the same thoughts going through both their minds.
Does he care?
Was it just passion for him?
Does he want more?
Do I care?
Was it just passion for me?
Do I want more?
Both men had known the bitterness of relationships.
Both had seen what love could do to people.
Both had seen love turn to hate.
Both had seen friends become enemies.
Neither had truly loved. Been in love.
Neither had ever wanted to be. Not really. Not if they were honest.
‘One day,' they'd constantly told themselves. ‘There's always time.'
But was there?
They did a dangerous job.
Both had faced death, more times than they cared to count.
Each had saved the other's life.
Each owed his life to the other.
Both would do, and had done, anything for the other.
They were friends. Partners. Mates. Confidants.
They trusted each other.
They cared about one another.
They . . .
Was this it?
Was this the relationship?
Was this their future?
It had seemed so right. So natural. Passion had flared and had found them waiting.
Could they take the next step?
Is it what they wanted?
Was it right?
Did it matter if it wasn't?
What was right and wrong anyway? In their jobs, they'd seen ideals of ‘right' and ‘wrong' that had seemed alien to them. They had done things they were ordered to do, things that were ‘right', things that saved lives, kept the country safe, but things that sometimes seemed wrong.
Right and wrong.
Good and evil.
Love and hate.
Pleasure and pain.
Two sides of the same coin. A coin that sometimes became so blurred, it wasn't always clear where one side ended and the other began.
It would take courage. But they didn't lack that. Neither of them did.
And yet, they also knew how to fear; how to be afraid. And it was that emotion that had helped keep them alive.
One of them had to speak.
One of them had to make the move.
One of them had to take passion to the next level.
One man pushed himself up on his elbow, his riot of copper curls tumbled around his face. He looked down at his partner, his mate, and suddenly the words took on a new meaning. Lover, he thought. He's my lover. Partner. Mate. Lover.
The other man just watched him, his look guarded; tension hovered in the heavy jaw, and began to seep into his limbs.
It was now or never.
He swallowed hard. Licked his lips and spoke. "Love you, Bodie."
The other man didn't answer, not with words. Instead, the wariness in the sapphire blue gaze fled, and his eyes spoke volumes; they told Ray what he needed to know. What he wanted to hear.
"Come here, sunshine," was what Bodie verbalised, as, a tad roughly, he pulled Ray back down into his embrace.
Once again, the passion flared.
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