rareslash | FIC: "Heaven and Earth"

Title: "Heaven and Earth" (1/1)
Author: CharlieMC
Email: charliemc.slash@yahoo.com
Fandom: "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen"
Pairing: Dr. Alfred Jones/Sheik Mohammed (Ewan McGregor/Amr Waked)
Disclaimer: Don't own them and mean no infringement or disrespect.
Date: 5 August, 2012
Word Count: 866
Warnings: Slash, erotica, somewhat explicit sexual references.
Notes: Comments appreciated.

Title: "Heaven and Earth" (1/1)
Author: CharlieMC
Email: charliemc.slash@yahoo.com
Fandom: "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen"
Pairing: Dr. Alfred Jones/Sheik Mohammed (Ewan McGregor/Amr Waked)
Disclaimer: Don't own them and mean no infringement or disrespect.
Date: 5 August, 2012
Warnings: Slash, erotica, somewhat explicit sexual references.

"To Reach God:

For your sake, I hurry over land and water:
For your sake, I cross the desert and split the mountain in two,
And turn my face from all things,
Until the time I reach the place
Where I am alone with You."

~Al Hallaj

The night is alive with stars that gleam so bright and hang so low they seem to dance on the surface of the surrounding sands. The breeze is cool, but the air shimmers with the heat of the day, reflected from the ground and rocks. The air is heavy with cool air trying to blanket the hot, and the smell of food cooked over fires.

Fabric dances with the breeze and the moon glows as it reaches to touch the tip of the large tent. Inside soft sighs and low moans make music and a tiny fire burns with only the smallest gleam of light. Two bodies press together, voices murmuring unintelligible words of great meaning, given flight by gentle fingers that glide across warm skin. There is the heavy scent of male bodies, sweating from effort and heat, spicy and rich.

Fingers find clothing and tug open garments that would restrain affection. Digits begin a journey to discover mysteries formerly concealed under robes, pants and shirt. The expedition leads in all directions at once, and doubles back to where it began. Simple movements become more complex, muscles bunch and relax in turn under the scrutiny of fingertips that see all.

Do lips clash as faces draw together? Do mouths open and exhale breath against damp cheeks and necks? Even teeth snap as desire rises, nipping tender flesh. Yet generous tongues carefully lap where bruises might rise, trailing across stubble and beard, working into crevices and swirling across lips and around earlobes, even daring to jab into the ear canal with deliberation, rather than abandon.

Dim light reveals turgid flesh beneath spasmodic stomach muscles. Mouths retreat and hands return to the serious business of treasure hunting, trailing down damp skin and up again, fingernails scraping and fingertips brushing in turn. Sounds are suppressed between clamped lips, but small groans escape these prisons, in spite of every effort to contain them.

Passion grows and both bodies press for the advantage; one must submit, must yield, so one may prevail. Lust spikes and a struggle ensues, but the moment is finally won. One man falls back and lowers his arms, while the other leans over him, ready to consume his beloved with his personal fire. The desert wind rises and the tent shakes, silk and other cloth dancing all around them. Some distant music -- wild notes rising and falling -- joins the ministrations of 'master and slave.' Hands are more insistent, fingers more exacting. Flesh strains and legs clench, while buttocks lift from the satin pillows, pushing impossibly upward toward the ceiling of the tent.

Faces again press together, and a rough mouth devours another, daring to thrust a spear-like tongue between lips and teeth. One tongue submits while another rapes, plundering deeply.

Again a hand conquers bloated flesh, pulling and tugging with expert wisdom. Behind tightly squeezed eyes fireworks explode, flashing inside eyelids. Ears roar with the sound of a far away ocean. Toes and fingers tingle with sensation as one man leads the other to culmination.

It is but a first step toward the journey to see God...

Cries of pleasure are deliberately obscured by a mouth that commands quiet. Ragged breath explodes and darkness threatens to veil all. Gentle hands stroke cheek and brow, reviving appetite. Again distant music pierces through the tent -- drums and horns stirring the blood.

Goblets of icy cold water refresh the men as they strain in the soft light to search each other's faces. This is barely begun, though both are stretched beyond endurance -- and they nod in united acknowledgement. They could no more stop their actions than they could use a fishing rod, line and fly to catch the moon!

Fingers play absently, tangled in hair, as faces again fall close together. They whisper affection and reassurance, ready to continue at all costs. Some words are foreign, but the intent is clear. This is more than lust and more than ordinary. This is imperative -- overwhelming and consuming.

Bodies move to continue, heat rises and hearts beat even faster. Pulses flicker on necks and wrists, while lips reach out to test the movement. Strong arms resume wrestling and embracing in turn -- the men pant and gasp with their struggles.

Time passes, as mercurial as the sifting sands beneath their bodies. Is it minutes, or hours? Or is it days and weeks? Or does time stop as they join together -- body and soul seeking one another -- seeking infinity? They believe perhaps the night will last forever, even as dawn threatens and the fire burns low.

Both yield to need and desire, thrusting and pillaging as climaxes lose boundaries and flow one into another. The final embers die, but it takes no illumination beyond their two faces to reveal the love they share. Daylight signals but a temporary end -- one that will resume when the night returns.

[end]