Fic: Seeing Allah (Sleeper Cell, Tommy/Christian, NC-17)
Title: Seeing Allah
Author: moosesal
Fandom: Sleeper Cell
Pairing/Characters: Christian / Tommy (with mentions of Zhara and Tommy's mom)
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash (with het mentions)
Prompt: Soccer drunkness turns to more
Spoilers: general season 1
Summary: Christian reflects on his relationships with lovers and with Allah.
Notes/Warnings: Once I started writing and editing, I kind of shifted from the prompt. This is, however, meant to be set after Tommy picks up Christian at the bar where he's watching soccer.
Beta: Thanks to romanyg for the beta.
Once in his life, for the briefest of moments, Christian saw Allah. Gazed upon him and then they touched. Every single day after was spent chasing that feeling. And then one day he thought maybe. Maybe he’d found that again. Found him again.
***
“How’s your wife?” Tommy asked.
“She’s divorcing me, asshole,” Christian answered without turning his face from the window.
“Oh.”
He wasn’t sure why he’d answered Tommy. Or, he was sure why he’d answered him, why he trusted him, but he wasn’t sure why it was Tommy he’d come to trust. But he had and now it was out there. Not that Tommy would tell anyone else; Tommy never talked about what was said, what happened, between them. If it weren’t for the little looks now and then, Christian might think Tommy forced everything from his mind--his memories erased with a prayer that Christian had never learned.
***
Christian fucked beautifully. It was the one thing Zhara’d probably admit to even now, after everything between them had turned to shit.
The first time he had her, he was still running around beating up de ratons, fucking whores hard and fast without ever even asking their names. There were even a few fags with nothing more than spit for lube as he shoved them up against an alley wall before kicking the crap out of them. And consent? Sometimes it was bought--with money or power.
But Zhara was different. She was something else. She was his savior.
He’d taken her slowly, carefully; she’d been a virgin and he almost felt bad having her outside the bounds of marriage. Her eyes were open when she came--clear and bright and filled with love. It was at that moment that Christian came to know Allah.
They were married a few weeks later against both families’ wishes. He’d never been happier.
He’d never be that happy again.
***
The closest Christian had come to fucking Tommy was sliding in and out of his virgin mouth, hand fisted loosely in his hair, before pulling out and coming all over his face and neck. It had been wet and sloppy and twice he’d felt teeth. But it was perfect and Christian found himself returning the favor without hesitation--something he’d never wanted to do with a man before.
It was wonderful and frightening and he wanted to do it again. All of it. And more.
After, they washed away the filth, unrolled their prayer mats, and turned to the East seeking absolution.
Tommy believed. He felt purified by Allah’s love. Christian figured he knew better. Forgiveness came with a price: martyrdom for a place in heaven. Paradise and virgins for eternity. But Christian didn’t need that shit. He didn’t want it. He want to die looking in Tommy’s eyes.
He wanted to see Allah looking back at him.
***
When the divorce papers came, Christian went to the bar and got shitfaced. Fuck the Qur’an and the prohibition of alcohol. After talking to the scholar, Christian had thought a lot about the Qur’an and Allah and his future. He’d thought a lot about his past, about Zhara, about Tommy, about love and lust and sin. All in all, he’d thought a lot about himself.
Drinking was the least of his worries.
***
When Tommy’s mom came to him, Christian fucked her with intense concentration. He wanted to hide, to push away everything and everyone. He looked at her and forced himself to think of no one else, nothing else. When she left, he thought of Tommy.
He told Tommy what he’d done because he wanted it all to be over.
***
When he told Tommy about the divorce, he was drunk and thinking of Zhara, remembering the passion, the love, the hate.
Then Tommy pulled the truck up to his bus, and Christian looked over and suddenly he could think of nothing but being in Tommy’s mouth again, of sliding against him, of fucking him and taking away that damn innocence of his. Of loving him and being loved by him. But he didn’t know how to ask, how to start.
In the end he didn’t have to. Tommy took care of everything. Not so innocent after all. Not so forgetful either.
Tommy slid his hand down Christian’s chest and stomach to the top of his jeans. Trailed soft fingertips along his waistband, teasing bare skin with the gentlest touch before popping the button on his jeans and dipping in further.
He blushed as he fisted Christian’s cock and said, “I want…,” unable to finish the statement, but his want clear in his eyes. Eyes that met Christians instead of turning away in fear or shame.
He was beautiful.
Christian choked out a “not here” and they managed to move from the truck to his bus.
He took Tommy slowly, with all the care he’d taken years ago with Zhara. With all the intensity he’d used so recently with Tommy’s mom. With all the desire he’d been repressing since the day he and Tommy first met, since that night in the bowling alley, since all the times he’d watched Tommy pray.
It was slow and deep and Christian pressed his forehead to Tommy’s back as he came inside him, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t fuck things up with wrong words as he’d done so many times with Zhara.
After, they lay tangled and sticky. In the morning they rolled out their mats and faced East. Christian didn’t ask for absolution; he offered thanks.
***
Twice in his life Christian felt Allah’s touch. The second time, the feeling lasted a lifetime in the briefest moment. He tasted heaven and was ready for it.
Author: moosesal
Fandom: Sleeper Cell
Pairing/Characters: Christian / Tommy (with mentions of Zhara and Tommy's mom)
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash (with het mentions)
Prompt: Soccer drunkness turns to more
Spoilers: general season 1
Summary: Christian reflects on his relationships with lovers and with Allah.
Notes/Warnings: Once I started writing and editing, I kind of shifted from the prompt. This is, however, meant to be set after Tommy picks up Christian at the bar where he's watching soccer.
Beta: Thanks to romanyg for the beta.
Once in his life, for the briefest of moments, Christian saw Allah. Gazed upon him and then they touched. Every single day after was spent chasing that feeling. And then one day he thought maybe. Maybe he’d found that again. Found him again.
***
“How’s your wife?” Tommy asked.
“She’s divorcing me, asshole,” Christian answered without turning his face from the window.
“Oh.”
He wasn’t sure why he’d answered Tommy. Or, he was sure why he’d answered him, why he trusted him, but he wasn’t sure why it was Tommy he’d come to trust. But he had and now it was out there. Not that Tommy would tell anyone else; Tommy never talked about what was said, what happened, between them. If it weren’t for the little looks now and then, Christian might think Tommy forced everything from his mind--his memories erased with a prayer that Christian had never learned.
***
Christian fucked beautifully. It was the one thing Zhara’d probably admit to even now, after everything between them had turned to shit.
The first time he had her, he was still running around beating up de ratons, fucking whores hard and fast without ever even asking their names. There were even a few fags with nothing more than spit for lube as he shoved them up against an alley wall before kicking the crap out of them. And consent? Sometimes it was bought--with money or power.
But Zhara was different. She was something else. She was his savior.
He’d taken her slowly, carefully; she’d been a virgin and he almost felt bad having her outside the bounds of marriage. Her eyes were open when she came--clear and bright and filled with love. It was at that moment that Christian came to know Allah.
They were married a few weeks later against both families’ wishes. He’d never been happier.
He’d never be that happy again.
***
The closest Christian had come to fucking Tommy was sliding in and out of his virgin mouth, hand fisted loosely in his hair, before pulling out and coming all over his face and neck. It had been wet and sloppy and twice he’d felt teeth. But it was perfect and Christian found himself returning the favor without hesitation--something he’d never wanted to do with a man before.
It was wonderful and frightening and he wanted to do it again. All of it. And more.
After, they washed away the filth, unrolled their prayer mats, and turned to the East seeking absolution.
Tommy believed. He felt purified by Allah’s love. Christian figured he knew better. Forgiveness came with a price: martyrdom for a place in heaven. Paradise and virgins for eternity. But Christian didn’t need that shit. He didn’t want it. He want to die looking in Tommy’s eyes.
He wanted to see Allah looking back at him.
***
When the divorce papers came, Christian went to the bar and got shitfaced. Fuck the Qur’an and the prohibition of alcohol. After talking to the scholar, Christian had thought a lot about the Qur’an and Allah and his future. He’d thought a lot about his past, about Zhara, about Tommy, about love and lust and sin. All in all, he’d thought a lot about himself.
Drinking was the least of his worries.
***
When Tommy’s mom came to him, Christian fucked her with intense concentration. He wanted to hide, to push away everything and everyone. He looked at her and forced himself to think of no one else, nothing else. When she left, he thought of Tommy.
He told Tommy what he’d done because he wanted it all to be over.
***
When he told Tommy about the divorce, he was drunk and thinking of Zhara, remembering the passion, the love, the hate.
Then Tommy pulled the truck up to his bus, and Christian looked over and suddenly he could think of nothing but being in Tommy’s mouth again, of sliding against him, of fucking him and taking away that damn innocence of his. Of loving him and being loved by him. But he didn’t know how to ask, how to start.
In the end he didn’t have to. Tommy took care of everything. Not so innocent after all. Not so forgetful either.
Tommy slid his hand down Christian’s chest and stomach to the top of his jeans. Trailed soft fingertips along his waistband, teasing bare skin with the gentlest touch before popping the button on his jeans and dipping in further.
He blushed as he fisted Christian’s cock and said, “I want…,” unable to finish the statement, but his want clear in his eyes. Eyes that met Christians instead of turning away in fear or shame.
He was beautiful.
Christian choked out a “not here” and they managed to move from the truck to his bus.
He took Tommy slowly, with all the care he’d taken years ago with Zhara. With all the intensity he’d used so recently with Tommy’s mom. With all the desire he’d been repressing since the day he and Tommy first met, since that night in the bowling alley, since all the times he’d watched Tommy pray.
It was slow and deep and Christian pressed his forehead to Tommy’s back as he came inside him, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t fuck things up with wrong words as he’d done so many times with Zhara.
After, they lay tangled and sticky. In the morning they rolled out their mats and faced East. Christian didn’t ask for absolution; he offered thanks.
***
Twice in his life Christian felt Allah’s touch. The second time, the feeling lasted a lifetime in the briefest moment. He tasted heaven and was ready for it.