Friday, 26 August 2011


(Unshakeable Faith is the new title of As Long As You Love Me)

In this scene Nash finds himself in a club with Brody to celebrate Willow's birthday.  Not entirely sure why he is there, or what he's even supposed to be doing, watching Brody is stirring feelings within him that he is too afraid to analyze...then Brody asks him to dance...

No, they weren't bare-chested in the club and no one was wearing a hat - but come on, it's bloody hot!

Nash dragged his gaze from Brody and Willow and glanced up into the face of a tall black man standing beside the booth.  “Um, hey,” he replied, glad of the dark when his cheeks warmed at the blatant appreciation in the other man’s eyes.
“I’m Daniel, may I sit?”
Nash quickly scanned the crowd for Brody and his stomach sank as he realized he and Willow must have moved further into the sea of dancers.  “Yeah, sure, I guess so,” he replied lamely, taking a long draw on his beer when Daniel slid into the booth beside him.  He almost leapt out of his skin when the stranger leant towards him and murmured against the shell of his ear.
“I’ve been watching you, and I wanted to tell you I think you’re the hottest thing in the place.”
“Me?” Nash squawked, coughing as he swallowed his mouthful of beer and choked on it.  The hottest thing in the place?  He shook his head in denial.  “I’m sorry, but I’m not gay.” 
“Really?” Daniel lifted a single eyebrow.
“Yes,” Nash replied loftily, “really.”  He flushed again when Daniel’s gaze roamed over him again and then, with a lift of his shoulders he stood up.
“Sorry.  My mistake,” Daniel said, tilting his head and narrowing his gaze.  “I could have sworn—”
After another shrug, Nash watched Daniel weave his way through a group of people at the bar.  Swallowing the rest of his beer, he quickly grabbed his second one waiting on the table and downed half of that before wiping his hand across the back of his mouth.  Why had Daniel thought he was gay?  Because you haven’t taken your eyes off Brody since you got here?  Mentally shaking his head, he took another drink.  Because you break out in a hot sweat every time Brody’s next to you?  Because you light up like a Christmas tree when Brody smiles?  Brody, Brody, Brody… do you really need me to go on? “Oh shut the fuck up,” he growled at his inner voice, grabbing it by the throat and firmly locking it behind a door in his mind.
“Nash! Come on!”
Brody’s voice broke through Nash’s inner debate and he looked up to see the object of his confusion swaying his hips in time with the music.  “What?”
“I said,” Brody rolled his eyes.  “Come on.”
Nash was unable to voice any objection as Brody plucked the bottle from his fingers and put it down on the table, then grabbed him by the hand and hauled him out of the booth, pulling him onto the dance floor.  “Brody,” he complained when the other man turned around to face him and began to sway his hips faster.  Nash stood there feeling like a bump on a log, gazing around at everyone else dancing around him.  “I don’t dance!” He had to yell to be heard and his heart leapt into his throat as Brody took a couple of steps towards him and curled long fingers around his waist.
“It’s easy,” Brody yelled back.  “Just move your hips to the beat.”
Nash tried to copy Brody’s movements, but failed dismally because he couldn’t think of anything past the warmth of the other man’s hands heating his skin, sending completely alien thoughts and sensations through him.   Looking at Brody’s eyes Nash could tell by the slightly glassy gaze and goofy grin that he was already half way drunk, and he was beginning to wish he was there with him.  Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so conscious of every movement they were making. 
“Come on, Nash.  Let yourself go,” Brody cajoled, stepping closer.
Nash gasped when Brody’s strong muscled thigh slipped between his own and he took control of the dance, gyrating expertly and moving Nash’s hips and thighs in time with his.  Heat began to build in Nash’s gut and the faster they moved, the harder his cock strained against his zipper.  Oh God!  What the hell am I doing? 

Brody was definitely half way to being drunk and could be forgiven for reading too much into a situation, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining Nash’s hardness against his thigh.  He wasn’t that drunk.  Glancing up, he met Nash’s wide-eyed gaze and involuntarily licked his lips, a bolt of heat shooting straight to his dick when Nash did the same.  Fuck, does he have any idea how hot that is?  Suddenly the music changed to a slower beat and Nash’s fingers loosened on his arms.  No, no, no!  Don’t let him go, idiot! When are you ever going to get a chance like this? Brody couldn’t help but agree with his inner voice and tightened his grip on Nash’s waist, pulling him closer.
Even above the music he could hear the uncertainty in Nash’s voice, but he shook his head slowly and leaned forward to murmur in his ear, “Just dance with me.”  Nash hesitated a moment more and then Brody felt him relax, nervous fingers sliding up his shoulders and around his neck.  Brody flattened one hand against the small of Nash’s back and rested the other on the waistband of the pants he wore.  Encouraging Nash to lay his head on his shoulder, he closed his eyes as he rested his cheek on the other man’s hair; inhaling the scent of the coconut shampoo Nash used.
He couldn’t believe how right this man felt in his arms.  When Nash had walked into the bar, he’d told himself he was helping the guy out, and he was; but the more time they spent together, the deeper he fell.  Nash was undoubtedly one of the bravest men Brody had ever met, and in a situation where most people, including himself, would have fallen apart; Nash had an air of fragile determination that made Brody want to applaud him and protect him at the Hannahe time.
And here he was, keeping the poor guy hostage on the dance floor, so that he could hold him a little longer.  How pathetic was he?  Do you see him complaining? Swallowing, Brody smoothed a small circle into Nash’s back and gasped when the fingers resting on the nape of his neck slid into the strands of hair curling around his collar.  No, Nash wasn’t complaining.  What the hell did that mean?  Why did it have to mean anything?  Because you want it to?
Sighing, he gazed down at Nash as the other man pulled back to look up at him, their hips still swaying gently to the last strains of the song.  Nash’s expression was unreadable and Brody swallowed at the way those soulful eyes kept flitting between his gaze and his mouth.  He knew it would be wrong to take advantage right now.  He’d been drinking, so had Nash.  It would totally be the wrong thing to do.  Oh, who the hell am I kidding? He kept his gaze locked with Nash’s as he closed the gap between them until he felt the quick puffs of air from between the other man’s lips on his own.  Brody’s lips brushed Nash’s, the barest of touches, then—

1 comment:

  1. Sigh...can't get enough of Brody and Nash.