You shift uncomfortably in your seat. You look somewhat distracted as you gaze blankly out of the plane window. Annoyed, maybe. With today’s events, I wouldn’t blame you if you were. A race we would both like to forget. A season, even.

Is that all though?

Even when you notice my eyes watching you intently from my seat opposite you and you smile back, you still seem more subdue than normal. And it’s making me wonder whether it’s the car and its poor performance that’s the cause of your melancholy or if it’s something else entirely.

And when did your smile suddenly make my stomach knot in need or give me that prickling sensation down my spine, igniting a side to me I never thought I had?

I have to break our eye contact, looking away not too quickly to avoid it looking suspicious. I can’t have you finding out how I feel. Christ, that would end my career at the team before it had really started. And anyway, how could I possibly tell you  when I can’t even understand what I feel in the first place, let alone put it into words and utter them out loud?

My head rests against the adjacent seat as I lie across the row. I’m trying not to look at you, closing my eyes, pretending to be tired just to stop myself staring. An odd silence sweeps the plane as I listen to the noise of the engines. Even the two team guys in the row in front of us are asleep so now there isn’t even the dull conversation on what happened to your car on the formation lap to distract me.

But I can still feel your presence and it’s driving me insane, trying to repress this desire to reach out and kiss you. Wondering what those lips would taste like, how your toned body would feel crushed beneath mine, how you’d like me to touch you, to take you, how to get you screaming in ecstasy. God, I wish I could find out.

I close my eyes tighter, swallowing hard as I try and block out thoughts of you from my mind but fail miserably. A cautious glance in your direction sends a shiver of desire through me, thank god you don’t notice as you seem mesmerised by the cloudy skies outside. I bite my lower lip when you shift in your seat again, my eyes hungrily taking in every contour of your well defined body and my own body involuntarily stirs when your tongue deftly moistens your parted lips.

Fuck, what are you doing to me?

I have to tear my eyes away from you before my arousal becomes too obvious. I should never have accepted this lift, it was far too risky. I can manage to repress my feelings at the track but now when it’s just us confined in a small plane without the crowds of the pit lane or the garage for protection I find myself drawn back to you, my body reacting to your presence on its on volition.

And now all it will take is a single glance in my direction and you’ll see the feelings I’ve been trying to hide in full view. I can only pray that you won’t notice my jeans suddenly taut and restrictive.

“Tired?”

A voice snaps me back from my panic, “Not really,” I coolly reply. I would almost sound convincing if it wasn’t for my body screaming out in lust, the dull ache in my loins a constant reminder of my desire.

And then you smile at me again and the throb of my body becomes unbearable. But I can’t break our gaze, anxious to spot any sign that you know what I’m thinking and what I’m feeling.

I can’t see anything distinguishable and I inwardly sigh when you break our eye contact to shift in your seat. This time you swing your legs on to the seat beside you, stretching back to rest against the wall, closing your eyes. My body flutters while I watch you, eyes lingering first on your lips then down your chest. And when you part your legs, bringing one up to your chest and letting the other slip off the seat, convulsions of lust run through me automatically, my eyes being drawn down to your groin. Christ, you look ... amazing, perfectly honed, just lying there as if to taunt me, to tease me.

Is that what you want? Are you doing this on purpose, arousing me mercilessly, every motion designed and calculated to turn me on? Daring me to make the first move, to come over to you, pull you roughly away from the wall, to press you hard against the chairs, trapping that alluring body against my already throbbing one? To fuck you here and now, regardless of the sleeping crew members at the front of the plane? Regardless of the obvious consequences?

Pure, physical pleasure, an earth-shattering release of this uncontrollable tension stored up inside me. Do you want me to take that chance?

Oh Christ, please don’t do this to me. Like a fucking peacock, displaying himself in all his glory, as if you can feel my eyes caressing every inch of you. Do you know I’m watching you, drinking in every contour, every muscle, my breath now short and laboured, fighting this dark arousal?

Are you getting off on this, knowing I can’t tear my eyes from you, mentally undressing that displayed body, swallowing hard as my gaze rests on your crotch and longing to see that t-shirt ripped from your muscular frame and those jeans tugged down over slender hips? Is that why you’re sitting like you are? You want my stare to fall there, to pass over your crotch so you can watch me lusting after you? Do you feel as I do now? Hard, throbbing, desperate? Falling into a deadly cycle of arousal my mind can’t break.

Please, Michael, is this what you want because, hell, I’ll do it to you? Just tell me ... tell me that I’m not imagining it. That my lust-filled soul isn’t inventing evidence to ease my longing. Please don’t make me fight back what I’m feeling, tell me what I need to know.

Do you want me or not?

“Eddie?”

My eyes flicker open slowly, though I hadn’t realised I’d closed them. You’re watching me, a slight smile gracing your lips. Not a knowing, accusary one, just a smile. And it confuses the hell out of me. Not even your eyes betray whether you realise what I’m thinking and if you’ve noticed my arousal you don’t show it. One second I see my tormentor, the next my team mate giving me an innocent smile.

Fuck, will you please just tell me where I stand before I go insane. 

I meekly smile back, not trusting myself to speak coherently without betraying my heightened arousal. You give me a quizzical look before turning away, eyes looking up to the ceiling before catching my gaze again.

My stomach lurches as I slowly sit up, as if on your silent orders, fully aware of the acute arousal coursing through me like wildfire. You gesture with your head and I obediently stand up, coming to sit beside you.

“You okay?”

No, I’m not fucking okay! Sitting inches from you, unable to drag my eyes away from you, helpless from halting this spiral into god knows what. And all you can ask me is am I okay!

Instead I answer hollowly, “Yeah.”

“Thought so.”

You catch my gaze and, trembling, I watch you back as your eyes seem to drill straight through me, lulling me into a feeling of recklessness. Shit, all I have to do is read those eyes of yours, suddenly completely open to my scrutiny after you’ve played fucking ignorance all this time. You’re completely aware of my feelings, my arousal. Fuck, how long have you known? Tell me because I don’t even know myself.

And what do I have to lose now you know?

Hesitantly, my head rests against your bent knee, my eyes still locked to yours, desperately searching for reassurance. You don’t reach out to stop me when a hand rests on your lower leg, fingers circling gently. Spurred on by my own desire, my hand wanders further down, caressing your inner thigh through the light denim of your jeans. And instead of pushing me away, you merely let your eyelids close, your head extending back against the wall of the plane.

You still won’t tell me if you want me.

Hell, I know this could be the most irresponsible and stupid thing I ever do but I have to know. Tentatively, I lean over until only our breath separates us, until your lips are a matter of millimetres from my own and we’re breathing in the same heated air. I inwardly groan with anticipation when my lips brush against yours momentarily, and then again to be replaced by a brief kiss. My hands find themselves on your taut chest, stroking you, learning every contour of your impressive frame.

Repressed arousal breaks through and my tongue darts out, gently parting your soft lips. You don’t try to stop me as I explore every inch of your mouth slowly, my arms coming to rest on your shoulders, my hands entwining themselves in your hair. But I can’t disguise the urgency of my need, my kiss becoming more frantic, demanding and crushing your lips against mine with increased force.

And when you break free from my kiss, I can’t look you in the eye for fear I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. Breathless and scared, I tried to resist meeting your gaze, until a hand pulls me roughly up by the chin, another sliding down my chest.

“Oh, Christ,” My voice is little more than a hoarse whisper as the buttons of my jeans are pulled open with ease and my eyes flicker closed, trying to comprehend the sensation of your fingers lightly dancing across my abdomen. I don’t know if you hear me, if you do you don’t respond to my hesitation. My body aches, waiting for you to slip off my jeans, but no matter how much I want this I can’t hide my fear, my apprehension. Knowing that if we do this, things will chance irreparably. Knowing I want this more than anything but frightened at the thought of going through with it.

The buttons of my shirt fall easily and I have to bury my face into your hair to quell the scream welling down inside my throat as you pull my chest to your lips, kissing me roughly while hands slip down my jeans, letting them come to rest awkwardly around my knees. My whole body shakes as hands grapple with my swollen erection and I have the overwhelming urge to kiss you harder than you’ve ever been kissed before.

Our lips clash, your talented mouth this time setting the pace. Your hands relinquish my throbbing organ to cradle my face as you pull my body down against yours until you’re stretched out on your back, legs wrapped tightly around my hips, hands keeping my lips firmly pressed against yours. Every slight movement of your hardening body seems to be magnified a hundred fold and all I can do is follow your lead, letting our bodies slide against each other, groins moving in synchronised motion. The ripples of pleasure now flood through me at an unbearable rate, heightened by the very real threat of being caught.

And when, gasping for breath, I’m forced to break away, your eyes burn flames of arousal as you whisper, “Do it, fuck me now.”

You must see a glimpse of apprehension in my eyes because your next kiss is softer, less urgent. “That’s why I’m not fucking you right now,” you whisper into my ear, coaxing me gently. I can only be thankful you can’t see the true extent of my panic. 

Or maybe you do and you’re leaving it up to me to figure it out.

Before I realise, my hands have undone and discarded your jeans and we’re locked in a deep kiss, you occasionally biting at my full lower lip. My shaking hands start to tug at your t-shirt but, unwilling to break our embrace, they simply content themselves with gliding across your heated skin underneath the thin cotton.

Hell, I get this offered to me on a plate all the time and I’d be stupid to refuse it. I’ve done this so many times. Okay, so with women but still, since when did I become so nervous? Since when did I become so controllable?

Since my new lover is my fucking team mate. My fucking married team mate, golden boy double world champion. The guy I work with, admire, the one who always seems aloof and cold. The same guy who’s currently directing my kisses down his chest, urging me to pound him senseless.

I can’t tell you that I don’t have a clue what to do, what to expect, what you expect from me. Your hardened cock lies inches from my lips now as I kneel between your parted legs, leaning over to kiss your abdomen and trying to keep my balance on the narrow plane seats.

My eyes lift to meet yours staring uncomfortably back at me. You’re waiting, to see if I can do this. You know I want to but you can also see my fear and confusion, the fact that I don’t even understand my own feelings.

Your eyes roll back in satisfaction when I give your erection a sweeping lick then another one, dragging your eyes back to my own. And my own body shivers at the unusual sensation as I automatically claim you with my lips. I’ve no idea if I’m doing this right, sucking gently, letting my teeth softly run across the sensitive tip before speeding up the tempo, all the while my eyes lock into yours, watching you watching me.

Your eyes close, a barely audible moan escaping your lips. I think you’ve resigned yourself to only this, not wanting to push me further than you think I want to go. You think my panic has got the better of my lust. Now, with no need to restrain, you’re just waiting for orgasm to take you.

Hastily, I break from you. “Will it, will I hurt you?” I mutter, trying to slow the frantic pace of my heart, “don’t we need ...”

“Just do it,” you interrupt me, the urgency in your voice ringing through me and I swear I see you shudder with longing at my decision.

My hands shake as they slide over and under your hips and I feel you lift yourself for me. Gingerly, I stroke your ass, letting fingers find your entrance and carefully press into your tight passage. You don’t hurry me, despite your desire, letting my fingers explore your insides while another hand toys with your cock. I don’t have to look to know that my body is equally responsive, crying out to slide into you.

And with a look straight into your eyes, you know I can’t do anything else but fuck you now.

Even with your muscles relaxed, the sensation of tightness is almost too much to bear. And only when I see you stifle a cry do I remember where we are and who could here us. Pressing gently into you, I have to force myself not to become lost in powerful thrusts, anxious not to hurt you unintentionally. But as you relax further and move deeper, lust takes over and I push harder, despite the resistance of tightness, trapped in a spiral of pleasure I don’t want to stop, forgetting my nerves and my panic.

You quickly regain your control though, the motions of your body against me urging the pace, dictating the speed and depth of my desperate thrusts as I hover above you, oblivious to the growing ache of my supporting arms.

But the sight of you beneath me, of your lips tasting mine, your erection against my skin, are all too much to comprehend. In a last-ditch effort to prolong my rising orgasm, my eyes fall shut and I concentrate on my short sharp breaths, trying to slow it down.

But my body is yanked back to the brink of climax by an unintelligible low groan escaping your lips and it’s impossible for me to delay the inevitable. Every inch of me wants to scream out in pleasure but all my voice can manage is a strangled whimper. 

Collecting my lips while I lie against your chest, you suffocate any cries as I come, orgasm hitting me violently, rendering me paralysed for a few moments until the mist clears and my eyes can open to look up at you, still caught in arousal.

Still buried inside you, I let my tongue explore your mouth, pulling you against me while my body moves against yours, rubbing up against your crushed cock. Arms and legs force me closer, increasing the pressure and, breaking our kiss, my hand instinctively reaches to grasp your swollen organ trapped between our bodies. Stroking, caressing, tightening my grip as you gasp, I’m still unsure what I’m doing but your moans of approval give me all the encouragement I need as I finish you off, jerking you harder and faster.

I can hardly take my eyes off your face as you come, your cock shooting its warm liquid onto our pressed bodies. Fighting to control your urge to cry out, your silent orgasm seems more powerful than anything I’ve seen and I don’t tear my gaze from you, waiting for you to look to me.

After what seems an age, you return my gaze with a sly smile.

“Fast learner, I see.”

“Am I?” I reply, still inside you, my body resting against your chest. I have to resist the urge to let my eyelids flutter closed but I don’t get the chance when you lift me up off you, breaking our intimate contact. You smile at me when, open-eyed, I stare back unsure of where I stand and your kiss dispels any fears that this has all been a mistake. Unable and unwilling to resist, I try to press you back again, my hunger demanding you more than ever and kisses intermingled with moans of please and again. You’re quick to assert yourself though, breaking free from my embrace in spite of my begs to the contrary.

“Probably not the best idea,” you grin, gesturing with your head towards the seats in front where the two sleeping crew members rest, blissfully ignorant of what’s just gone on, “Enough for now, then later ...”

I nod almost helplessly in reply, despite the fact that I can feel my body stirring again, and I can only watch you, captivated, as you collect your discarded clothes. A finger gently lifts my chin up as you stand in front of me so our eyes meet.

“You’ll probably want to clean up before they awake and we land,” you murmur, your lips briefly collecting mine again, “We don’t want to be starting rumours, do we?”

I nod again, biting my lip as I try to fend off my returning arousal but you doesn’t give me chance to quench it, instead leaving me stretched out on the plane seats waiting for you to come back.

And at the same time wondering what the hell we’re going to do now we’ve gone this far. When the plane lands and we don’t have the strange isolation of being thousands of feet from reality and prying eyes.

Self-destruct or the best decision of my life, I don’t know.

But I would do it again.

~ The End.