Title: Not Going Anywhere
Author: Trekker (47_trek_47)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Milo/Adrian
Spoilers: Through "The Fifth Stage"
Warning: RPS

Summary: Milo and Adrian, on the boat, post filming That Scene.

***
They'd finally wrapped filming at one a.m. and now it's after three in the morning, and even though that scene was Nathan's last, it wasn't Adrian's, and they have to be back in less than eight hours for a forced call.

It's not a safe time to be out on a boat, particularly not a small sailboat, but it feels like the only thing to do. Just get away: somewhere, anywhere away. Milo's standing by the rail, his hands curled around it like a throat. All the muscles coiled down his arms and across his back under his thin T-shirt stand out sharply, tense. The sea is calmer than he is, and the slow roll of the deck under Adrian's feet as he crosses it already feels like the rhythm of love-making.

"Hey," he says, softly in deference to the stillness of the night around them.

Milo turns his head slowly, like it hurts, and doesn't let go of the rail. Adrian gestures with the mug of hot cocoa in his right hand, keeping the one in his left. It's instant, and just made with water not milk, but it's pure childhood comfort in a beverage.

Milo finally releases the rail and turns and takes it. When he misses a step when the boat dips when he clearly thought it would rise, Adrian catches his wrist to steady it.

He doesn't let go, even though the chocolate that sloshed over his own wrist is hot on his skin, trapped in the hem of his shirt. Their eyes meet. Milo's are bright, catching the moonlight, unshed tears. Just needing to touch him, Adrian blindly sets his own mug on the nearest horizontal surface and then reaches up, cups his cheek. "Hey. I'm not dead. I'm not gone. I'm not goin' anywhere."

With a soft exhalation and a twist of his lips, all somewhere between a laugh and and sob, Milo moves into his space, right up against him. Their joined hands hold his mug away as they press together, Milo's arm around his waist, Adrian's hand slipping back to curl around the nape of his neck. Milo's hair tickles his hand, his breath and a tear touches his neck, and Adrian shudders inside, surging with love. He digs his fingers deep into Milo's neck, pinning him, not letting him go, needing him as close as he can get him, like on set, when they hugged so tight all the cameras and people vanished around them for few sweet moments. Milo gasps and somehow manages to push closer, defying the laws of physics and nature. "Adrian. God."

He smells good. Adrian buries his nose against his neck and inhales, as if he breathes him in deeply enough he'll never really lose him.

Between their hands, the mug tips, and Adrian flinches at the heat, hard enough that they both step back suddenly.

Milo sniffs as he pulls it away. "Sorry. God, sorry."

It doesn't matter. Adrian shakes his damp hand as Milo finds somewhere to put the mug down.

He'd thought they'd need some time to just sit and process the day's filming, but right now, he doesn't want time. He doesn't want anything but Milo's skin against his, the taste of his tongue, the murmur of pleas and promises in his ears.

As soon as Milo returns, sans mug, Adrian catches him in his arms, yanks him against him, suddenly desperate. Milo curses softly but grabs him back, clutching him, and then they kiss. They'd been dying to kiss on camera all day, staring at each other from inches apart, wanting it so badly and being completely prohibited. Off camera and out of sight, they had been kissing all day, any moment they could get alone. By all rights, they shouldn't want to think about sex again for weeks. Even the time a few days ago when they forgot and left their mics on hadn't discouraged them from seeking each other out the next chance they'd had. Even now, Adrian's come four times in the past twenty-four hours, twice in Milo's hand, once in his own while Milo was inside him and once in Milo's mouth, but he's still burning for him, like he's never been allowed to touch him.

Milo's burning for him, too. Excited fingers, digging painfully into his sides, trap him as Milo's tongue glides across his teeth. Adrian's cock aches as it hardens, raw from overuse, and in Milo's arms, even that feels good.

They pant into each others' mouths as Milo pushes him against a bulkhead and shoves their hips together, humping him and whispering frantic, "I love yous," as if that will make anything better, anything okay. Adrian clings to him, off balance and overwhelmed, dizzy with want, his body flushed with desire that literally hurts.

"I need you to fuck me," Milo whispers. "Please," he says, like he has to ask, like Adrian would ever, ever refuse.

"Of course," Adrian says. "Yes. Yes. God, Mi. I need you so bad."

"Badly," Milo murmurs, still plastered over him, still biting at his earlobe.

Adrian laughs at the off-hand correction, and it's a sharp and unexpected thing, bursting out of him and sending a scattering of confusion through his body and his heart. The confusion of it hurts, the clash of lust and pain and love and funny. It's funny because of the love, because it's so Milo and he loves Milo so much and he's not going to see him every day anymore and he might lose him entirely eventually, and that hurts.

Milo's catches the tear that rolls down his cheek with his tongue. He's almost managing a smile when he whispers, roughly, "Sorry. Didn't know you were so sensitive about your bad grammar."

Adrian can feel Milo's erection, digging into his hip. Instead of speaking, he works his hand between them and holds it, rubbing it lightly through the denim with his thumb. Milo shuts his eyes and draws his hips away just enough to make room. He tilts his head back. "Oh, Ade. Yeah. Touch me."

He fondles him aimlessly and without a goal, just watching his face, loving the sounds of pleasure Milo makes, loving making him feel good. He's so beautiful, so sweet. Complicated and sometimes bitchy and deep down as much of a nerd as Adrian knows he is deep down, too. It's all okay. It's all Milo, and Adrian sometimes can't even touch the way he feels for him, because it would be like touching a high voltage power line.

Milo's hips are shifting restlessly against his hands.

He pushes one hand deeper, between the tight clutch of Milo's thighs, turns it sideways and rubs up firmly through the cleft there, pressing over Milo's asshole through his jeans, hard and suggestive.

Milo squirms on his hands and gasps out, "Yes."

He stumbles back a step and Adrian is right there with him, following him, hands on him. They half-climb, half-fall down the ladder into the boat, and Adrian backs blindly through the familiar space, stripping off Milo's shirt, undoing his pants. They pause for a moment at the end of the kitchen area and finish stripping each other and then tumble on the bunk beyond, kissing.

Milo shoves up under him and there're tears in his voice again when he pleads, "Now, now, now. Please!"

Adrian fumbles with the lube, drops it and curses. His hands are shaking. Milo leans off the bed and grabs it, flipping it open, getting too much in his hand and tossing the tube away. Adrian's breathing roughly, straddling Milo's thigh, Milo's other leg bent up and tucked between his side and the wall, foot pressed to Adrian's ass, toes curled and digging into his flesh. They touch hands, sharing out the slippery goo and as Adrian slips his fingers inside Milo's ass, fucking him deeply and inelegantly, Milo grabs Adrian's cock in a tight grip, jacking him. Practically already fucking. The cabin's already hotter from their bodies and their panting breath. Their eyes are locked on each other's, Milo's eyes are all Adrian can see, all the pain and the love there, tears falling again.

When he finally thrusts inside, as the fire of that consumes him and destroys him, he gasps, sharply, "I am not leaving you. You are not losing me. Listen to me."

Milo's hand clenches tight on his arm, nails in his skin. His head's back on the pillow, long white throat exposed, sweat gleaming on his chest. One hand skitters along the wall as Adrian holds still inside him, letting him adjust, letting him breathe. He doesn't do this often, doesn't allow this often.

"You're okay," Adrian says. "It's okay, you're okay, just breathe. You okay?"

He sees and hears Milo swallow, feels the hand on his arm loosen a fraction. Milo's eyes are closed as he whispers, "Yes. Oh. Yeah, I'm okay. I'm... oh."

Adrian swallows hard, too. Draws back his hips just a little and then forward, back in. Tight, so tight, so good, squeezing around him. Milo's beauty spread out under him. His primal instincts scream at him to fuck. Take this beautiful creature, make him yours. He fights it, keeps it slow and shallow, watching Milo's chest heave and his lashes flutter. Feels Milo's hand loosen more, his fingers begin to lightly stroke his arm instead of cling to it.

"I love you," Adrian whispers, though he feels like he's saying 'drizzle' to describe a typhoon. Not enough words in the world.

Milo opens his eyes and reaches up with his free hand, trailing his fingers down Adrian's cheek, down to rest on Adrian's shoulder. He lifts his hips into Adrian's next small thrust, his face tense with concentration and intense trust and desire. "Yes," he says.

And Adrian relaxes. Lets go that need, still gentle, still slow, but no longer holding back so completely. Making love, slow and steady. Feeling some small fraction of his endless desire for this man satiated, satisfied. They're together. Here and now. Together, body and soul, perfectly in sync, perfectly in love. They could talk, but they don't have to. Could kiss, but they don't have to. Everything they need to say is being said, by the joining of their bodies and by the conversation in their eyes.

As the intensity grows, as Milo's hand between them quickens, they add gasps and groans to their wordless communication.

And then, when Milo says, "I'm gonna--I'm close--" Adrian answers, "With me, come on, with me," as he quickens his pace, deep and fast now. Mi's body is relaxed around him, welcoming him, made for him.

And, "Now! Oh, now." That surge, that eruption, deep in his heart and his spine and his groin, pounding, pulsing. Love. Mine. Never leave you, never ever leave you, mine forever, yours forever. Milo's cry is sharp in his ears, Milo's climaxing body is bucking up to meet his own thrusting down. Synchronicity, and at the same moment they say, "I love you."

***
End