Noel’s musings.


Characters: ,


Genre: ,




Length: words

Chapter Notes: Thanks to the brilliant beta thymeth, whose response to this fic was: “not a lot happens, but that’s okay…” lol! It’s short, and different to what I usually write, so bear with me!

Challenge: Challenge 05: Picture Challenge

He couldn’t help it. He was drawn to Julian.

He could feel the heat of him at his elbow, burning into his skin. If he concentrated, he could imagine the shifting of the strong shoulders beneath that awful shirt, the rise and fall of the chest. But he had almost forgotten how Julian would be to touch. He had felt it before, obviously, but now that they had started on the tv show, they had hardly been alone since and there had beenso much less opportunity to indulge in his all-time favourite occupation: secret Barratt-fondling.

It was killing him.

He longed to grip his waist, to brush his fingers across the stubble, run his hands through the dark, curling locks. Julian had the most amazing face, one to be completely fascinated by. There was a beauty hidden in it, a beauty he didn’t think anyone else appreciated as much as he did. He took every opportunity to look at it, to try and memorize it, all the different planes and many expressions. All without the owner’s conscious knowledge, of course. Everyone knew he was a very tactile person, that he liked to hug and grip everything, everyone. Julian had once called him a toddler, amused by the way he seemed to have a compulsion to reach out and touch everything in sight.

Being around Julian, however, was different… it was less of a desire, and more of a need. He wouldn’t have been able to stop himself even if he had wanted to.

Not touching, not yet. But soon.

Noel was almost sure Julian didn’t know why he was always being touched. He’d had to hold himself back from furthering the touch countless times, because, if Julian knew why Noel was always standing so close to him, always sitting so near, always following him around the set like a puppy… Well, he didn’t know what Julian would do. Probably freak out. And he didn’t want that. Perhaps it could just carry on being his own little secret pleasure, his own private obsession, to be indulged wherever possible… No one need ever know.

It was only a matter of time before he had to touch him again. Tonight. He had to feel him tonight. Had to. Anywhere, and by any means.

The added dimension of knowing that the cameras were trained on them and that the audience were all watching with their beady little eyes only added to his excitement. Added an element of danger. He was Dangermouse, and Julian was Ernest Penfold. Actually, no: that should be the other way round… Ernest was, after all, the one lusting after the one-eyed wonder. Not that Julian was one-eyed…

He shook his head, forcing his thoughts to turn back to Julian and his proximity. Not that that was very difficult; he was standing right next to him, talking to the audience. Noel could smell the faint aroma of past cigarettes and he would be happy just to stare and stare at that face all night. It was odd, he knew it was odd. And yet it was the only thing he felt comfortable thinking about. Julian.

Right, he has to. He has to do it, right now.

Let them fucking wonder why he’s touching Julian’s face so much in the opening of the show. Why he’s standing so close in the tundra scene… Let them fucking wonder!

But then Julian snakes his arm around without a word, and his warm hand is resting heavily on Noel’s hip.

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