Golden eyes gleamed in the dark.

Jim gazed at Dan wordlessly: the latter was stretched out before former, his body on display for Jim's viewing pleasure. Faint light glowed around Dan, illuminating his alabaster skin, as though he was bathed in moonlight. His mouth curled into a seductive smile as Jim watched, his features pale but radiant and perfect in the dim luster, not a flaw to be found. He wasn't the older Dan from the present, but he wasn't the teenager from twelve years ago.

He wasn't anything but gorgeous.

Still lying on the floor, Dan caught Jim's eye with his own, then lifted his arms behind his head, stretching lazily, his shirt riding up and exposing supple ivory flesh; the deliberately alluring action raised goosebumps on Jim's arms, but the sensation wasn't unpleasant. He continued to focus on Dan, entranced, not wanting to miss any second of the show the other was willing to perform.

Arching his back, Dan moved with liquid grace, a casual sensuality that brought a quiver of arousal to slip down Jim's spine. Eyes closed, Dan shifted, the motion of his back and hips slow and fluid, sheerly sultry.

He opened his eyes, staring intently into Jim's green gaze, and outstretched a hand to Jim.

"Lie with me," he murmured, voice low and husky. His eyes never broke from Jim's.

Though mesmerized by Dan's beguiling stare, a feeling of disquiet engulfed Jim, warning him away from this, letting him know that something was off in this situation. He couldn't distinguish what it was, but something was wrong. He knew that he ought to leave.

But Dan was reclining on the ground, so enticing, so willing.

It wasn't that Dan welcomed him so readily, it was that he looked at Jim with such longing that Jim knew Dan would never accept anyone but him. And with Dan, Jim could lose his inhibitions, do what he wanted, be completely unrestrained.

Jim couldn't resist him. A flash of heat raced through him, and the urge was too strong: to twist and writhe with Dan, to touch him, to kiss him, to pleasure him.

He ignored his reluctance and settled himself down beside Dan, self-conscious that his movements were clumsy and graceless in comparison.

Dan hardly seemed to care, however. The second Jim was sitting on the ground, Dan was pressed against him, lips sealing into Jim's own, mouth warm and velvety.

Jim pulled Dan closer, sliding his hands beneath his shirt, tasting his cool skin. Dan melted into him, body pliant, desirous.

Tightening his grip, Jim pushed deeper into Dan's mouth. For several moments, they embraced this way, then Dan broke away with a mischievous smile, fingers light trailing down Jim's chest.

Disappointed, Jim's lips quivered and tingled with sensation that begged for more kisses to make it cease. He looked briefly into Dan's eyes, which were smoldering despite his otherwise expressionless face, then Jim leaned in for another kiss. His hands ran lightly over Dan's form, and as he licked the hollow of his throat, he caught Dan's scent, like that of the mist hovering over a still lake beneath a harvest moon. He brought his mouth lower to nip at Dan's collarbone: Dan let out a soft sound at the fleeting pain, gently stroking Jim's neck.

Abruptly, he moved away from Jim and stood, walking further into the gloom.

"Dan?" Jim asked, disenchanted by Dan's sudden refusal. "Where are you going?"

Eyes luminous in the dark, Dan turned to look at him as he lightly touched a doorknob. The door creaked open, and scarlet light and white puffs of smoke flooded out: heavy, pounding music spilled into the air.

Jim's reluctance surfaced again, stronger this time, and he held firm. "No."

The slightest frustration slipped into Dan's eyes, but he continued to stand there, waiting.

"No," Jim repeated.

Dan lifted his chin and regarded him with disinterest, and Jim noticed shadows moving about in the scarlet light. He looked at Dan again to find that his features were not at all like he remembered: his appearance was now strikingly unfamilar, though Dan remained intensely attractive.

The shadows drew nearer, and from the open doorway, slim hands extended, both elegant and androgynous. They slipped over Dan, languidly, caressingly, tugging at his clothing and hair. His eyes fluttered closed as tantalizing noises emitted from his throat, his body responding wantonly to their embraces, giving in to their touches. Whatever words his lips formed were rendered a string of moans as his hips bucked and his chest heaved, unable to keep up with the ecstasy brought on by the hands' provocative strokes that excited the sensitive areas of his body.

As he writhed in pleasure, Dan's eyes opened, meeting Jim's gaze without hesitation, daring him to watch as he twisted in exhilaration. His eyes glowed, hazy with lust, as he looked at Jim, tempting him, inviting him.

His face was beautiful, and Jim had never been more drawn to Dan; he wanted nothing more than to be with him, to caress him, to be the one bringing him to moan in pleasure.

Longing shot through Jim, sudden and mindless, sharp as a scalpel's blade. Hunger, a simple and nearly violent need to touch and be touched, accompanied it, and he needed to go to Dan.

But the red light shifted as another cloud of smoke blew in, and Dan's face was totally remote: he didn't even appear human-

Startled out of sleep, Jim sat bolt upright in his bed, breathing heavily. He glanced around his room to reassure himself that he was in his home, safe. Momentarily, he was deluged by the fleeting sensations of his dream, and he shook his head to clear out the cobwebs of his impossible fantasies.

"Jim?" Trixie stirred, her voice drowsy. "Are you all right?"

Jim swallowed. "Yeah," he managed. "I'm fine."

"Hmmm." Trixie seemed to be half-asleep. "Love you, Jim."

Jim paused, hesitant to return the hollow sentiment. Then he took his cue and responded, "Love you, too, Shamus." He winced as he invoked the old, sappy nickname from their teenage years of dating. Those years had led to these ones, which were vast and void.

Trixie must have drifted back off to sleep, then, as Jim remained awake, perturbed as he pondered their brief verbal exchange.

Neither of them were willing to admit the true extent of the emptiness of the words they'd just spoken.

And neither of them, he knew, would willing to admit that their marriage was all a lie.

Jim sighed in discontent, regretting his marriage, not for the first time.

He had a long life ahead of him.

A/N: Lol, keeping with the fandom trend of platonic love being nonexistent. Hope you enjoyed the story.