Title: Longing
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: John Smith/Arthur Eddington
Fandom: Doctor Who/Einstein and Eddington
Rating: NC-17
Table: Love Your Fandom, in 5_prompts
Prompt: 6, excerpt from "Longing," by Matthew Arnold.
Note: An epilogue for the John/Arthur story arc.
Author's Note: This fic doesn't feature the Tenth Doctor, but technically, since he is John Smith, it does fit the challenge claim. Slight spoilers for Einstein and Eddington.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own John Smith or Sir Arthur Eddington. Please do not sue.

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Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.


John was still with him in his dreams.

Arthur lay back against the pillows, closing his eyes and trying to make himself relax. That was no longer possible, not without John beside him. His lover had burrowed so deeply into his heart and soul that sleeping without him there was becoming increasingly harder.

How long had it been now? Weeks? Months? At first, he'd counted the hours that he'd been without John, but those hours had dissolved into a blur of the most acutely felt pain he'd ever experienced, becoming long days, then weeks.

Time had ceased to exist for him, as had anything else in his life. Oh, he still went to work, attending lectures, pretending that he had an interest in the world around him. It wasn't as though he could tell the people he worked with that he had lost the love of his life.

To the outward world, he was still just the same as he had always been. He was a fairly successful man, someone who had a wonderful life ahead of him, someone who didn't seem to know pain or sorrow, whose life glided along smoothly in every way.

But he felt deadened inside. The only time he truly felt alive was when he managed to slip into the realm of sleep -- a world of dreams where John was still with him, where the pain melted away and their parting had never happened.

The only one who knew how he really felt was Winnie -- just as she'd been the only one who knew just how deeply he'd been affected when William was killed. He'd had to hide his feelings from everyone, keeping them buried deep within his soul.

No one other than his sister would understand his feelings -- or accept him once they knew that he had fallen in love with two men and lost them both.

Arthur pulled the covers up around him, reaching to turn off the light on the table by his bed. No, sleep wasn't easy to find without John in his arms -- but his lover was still with him in his dreams, his memory of the other man crystal-clear in his mind.

He could remember everything about John: The slightly tangy scent of his skin, the way that thin body had felt curled into his arms, the soft warmth of John's breath on his chest as they fell asleep together. He could remember every moment they'd spent wrapped in each other's arms.

He remembered everything about that beautiful body that he'd so loved to touch -- the planes and curves of John's chest and stomach, the sensitive juncture of thigh and pelvis, the tiny mole between his shoulder blades, the softness of his skin.

He remembered how John's cock had felt in his hand, the feeling of complete and utter contentment that had permeated his own body when he was deep inside his lover. He remembered John's soft moans, the whispered words they had exchanged.

Turning over onto his side, Arthur closed his eyes, desperately wishing that sleep would take him over and transport him to that dream world where he was with John again, where the two of them could touch and love with no boundaries coming between them.

The longing he felt for John had built up during the day, and this was the only way he had to assuage it. To let himself sink into the realm of dreams, to lose himself in memories.

He could see John in his mind's eye: Those beautiful dark eyes, the smile that curved his lips, the slim body that he longed to take into his arms even when they were in a public place. He always had a hard time keeping his hands to himself, or keeping his gaze from straying to the other man.

How could he not look at perfection? he asked himself, a smile on his own lips as his memory conjured up a vision of John in his bed, propped up on one elbow, his hair disheveled, that sensual smile on his face that was only there for Arthur.

John never smiled like that at anyone else, Arthur thought, wrapping both arms around his pillow and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He kept a distance between himself and other people, but with Arthur he was completely open, sharing everything about himself.

His hands tightened on the pillow as his thoughts went over every aspect of John's body: The slender length of the other man pressed against him, their legs twined together, John's arms around him, their lips meeting in a kiss that grew in intensity with each passing moment.

Arthur's hands moved over the silk pillowcase, imagining a very different kind of pale silk underneath his fingertips: The silk of John's bare skin, that beautiful body pressed against his own, his hands moving down the slender curve of John's back to cup his ass and pull him closer.

Sleep was starting to come, a sleep brought on by his eagerness to lose himself in his dreams. He would see John again in those dreams; he would be with the man he loved in another realm, holding John, touching him, kissing him -- loving him.

The intense longing that had possessed him all through the daylight hours was starting to wane; his mind was slipping into a dream, his eyes locked on his inner vision of John.

The dream was becoming more real, more intense as he fell deeper into the arms of slumber. He could feel John's mouth on his, hear the other man's whispered declaration of love, taste the sweetness of John's kiss, feel his own heart expanding with released emotion.

The longing was moving outwards, wrapping around his dream vision of John; he was pulling the other man close against him, laying John down in his bed, spreading his legs to let his fingers gently enter the other man, watching every expression across those ethereal features.

Then he was inside John, their bodies joined, their souls united; he could hear every gasp, every breath, every whispered word that his lover uttered. His own words were incoherent, lost in the swirling haze of the moment, swept away by the rising tide that threatened to overtake them both.

Afterwards, John lay in his arms, their bodies spent; there was no need for words between them, their hearts reaching out to twine around each other in an unbreakable bond, their bodies so close that Arthur couldn't tell where he ended and John began.

The longing in his soul reached out for John, his empty arms reaching for the man he loved who could only come to him in his dreams. Those dreams were the one place where he found solace, losing himself in the arms of his lost love and the peace that eluded him during the day.

He would be all right during the day, if only he could lose himself in dreams once darkness fell. The longing that followed him all day would dissolve, falling away in the arms of his lover. He could forget the unbearable loneliness, the void that John's loss had left in his life.

Arthur Eddington smiled in his sleep, his arms tightening around the pillow crushed in his arms. Anyone watching him would have wondered what had put the look of bliss on his face, so different from the look of patient longing that he usually wore during the day.

No one would ever know that the only life he wanted was lived in his dreams, in the arms of the man who would always own his heart.

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