[FIC] Feel Me 6/?

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

Thanks again for the continuing feedback (and interest!)  More mansex in this chapter.  (Tame)

Title:  Feel Me 6/?
Pairing:  Colin/Ryan and friends (no, not THOSE "Friends")
Rating:  NC-17 for mansmut and there's some in this chapter
Disclaimer:   FICTION!  Don't own, Don't sue, Billy, don't be a hero

I awoke the next morning to sunlight beaming through a small break in the thick curtains, a warm body curled behind me, and a heavy arm thrown across my waist.  Blinking fuzzily at the clock, I noted that it was just past seven, and I’d been asleep for almost nine hours.  Behind me, Ryan—and I could tell it was him without having to look, thank goodness—was snoring lightly, which was always the case when his allergies were particularly bothersome.  Rather than being annoyed by the sound, I found it quite endearing and spent several moments refamiliarizing myself with it as I allowed my body to awaken at its own pace, something I rarely had the luxury of doing.

 

Within moments, certain needs made themselves known, and I eased myself out of Ryan’s embrace, and out of bed, without waking him, an easy enough task given the years of practice I’d had.

 

Morning ablutions complete, I reentered the room in a dark robe to find that Ryan, still asleep, had turned himself onto his back, adopting what I called his ‘starfish position’; all arms and legs spread to their limits and no space for another being over the size of a small dog or infant.  Except, of course, that this was a double-king which was roomy even if you were the size of a  mutant giraffe.  Though still asleep—and I could tell that from his breathing, having become acutely attuned to it over the years—he sported a tiny smile while, some three feet below, he was, as Brad would no doubt say, sporting wood.

 

Crossing the room, I went to the closet, and my suit hung therein, and removed the dove grey silk handkerchief I’d tucked in there last night before dinner.  It would do perfectly for what I had in mind.  Shaking it out, I refolded it into a long rectangle perhaps three inches wide, perfect for a blindfold, or perhaps a sexy wrist restraint, but neither was what I had in mind at the moment.

 

Shedding my robe, I carefully climbed back into the bed, taking care to time my movements to the rhythm of his breathing, and to keep myself as much away from his body as I could.  If he felt my heat, he would curl in, and that would defeat my purpose, you see.

 

It took a couple of minutes, but eventually I was where I wanted to be; sitting back on my heels, one knee a few inches away from his right thigh, the other just back from his trim waist.  Handkerchief in hand, I treated myself to another long, silent stare.  It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen his naked body hundreds of times before.  I just never tired of looking at it, tracing every line and sharp angle with my eyes, noting each tiny change and storing it in my memory for the time when distance and commitments would once again separate us, as often as not on different continents entirely.

 

I slowly traced my gaze from his face, looking as always no matter how many years have passed exactly like a mischievous young boy after a hard day’s play, down the elegant column of his neck, across the breadth of his shoulders and down his hairless chest, still well muscled even in his middle age, along his slowly softening belly and the faint trail of gingery hair to the place that wasn’t at all soft, but tall and proud, like he was himself

 

Taking the edges of the handkerchief, I slipped the looped end over his erection, letting it flutter down to the base and listening carefully to his breathing.

 

Good, still asleep.

 

I was always the heavier sleeper of the two of us, allowing him to get away with things like he had done yesterday, or even sliding into bed with me last night and curling around me without waking me up.  Deb often despairs of my ability to sleep like the dead, asking me what would happen if a burglar or worse would break in in the middle of the night.  I always tell her the truth—that the poor unfortunate would spend his time wishing that his mother had never met his father after she was done with him.  I’d never have to leave the bed at all.  It always makes her laugh.

 

Enough of that.

 

The ends still in my hand, I pulled the material up the majestic length of his shaft to the crown, then let it flutter down again, still keeping a weather ear out for any changes in his breathing.  When there were none, I upped the ante, just slightly, tightening my grip on the silk and making the next slow, smooth stroke a little more forceful. 

 

He moaned softly in the middle of an inhale, turning his head just slightly as his left leg crooked at the knee, then relaxed again.  Smiling, I repeated the maneuver, listening as he moaned again, then murmured something that I couldn’t quite decipher.  Satisfied at the reaction, I pinched off the trailing ends right at his shaft, then wrapped the rest of the material around him, and took him, very gently, in hand, moving the silken sheath slowly, gently, up and down his length.  I slid the flat of my palm beneath the heavy weight of his scrotum and lifted it into my hand, my thumb brushing just lightly against its textured surface, feeling the skin tighten and tense. 

 

Some time between the sixth stroke and the seventh, the rhythm of his breathing changed from aroused but asleep to aroused and awake.  His eyes stayed closed, though; he was pretending, even though he knew that I knew he was awake.  It was a game we sometimes played, and I’ve never tired of it.  By his reaction, neither had he.

 

I continued to move lightly enough not to bring orgasm, but not so lightly as to cause him to lose interest…among other things.  Not that that seemed to be a problem.  His chest was moving deeply with his increased breathing, and pearlescent fluid collected at the tip of his erection.  I wanted to taste it, and so I did, leaning forward and taking only the head between my lips, using the point of my tongue to swipe the liquid away before tracing around his circumference, first clockwise, then counterclockwise, always varying my rhythm while my hand motion remained completely steady and slow. 

 

When I dragged the flat of my tongue across him, he stiffened, and sighed, abandoning all pretense of sleeping.  His fingers came down to touch my face, then his nails dragged though the hair at the base of my skull and I wanted to purr.

 

I actually felt bereft when his hand left my scalp, but that feeling was short-lived when it slithered along the top of my thigh and clamped snugly around me. 

 

Damn, I’d forgotten about those long arms of his again.  I hadn’t intended to be part of the festivities, so to speak, but now that I was, backing out wasn’t really an option.  Well, it was an option, but not if I wanted my penis and I to be on speaking terms for the rest of the week.

 

When in Rome, and all that; I shifted slightly so that my hips were a bit closer to his slowly pumping hand and he thanked me by giving me a squeeze-tug-swipe combination that almost sent me flying off to Mars before I was able to rein it back and concentrate on my reason for being where I was.

 

I took more of him into my mouth…not much, perhaps another half inch, and stopped, continuing to use my tongue in a way I knew he enjoyed as my hand kept up the same slow, steady, gentle motion, urging the soft silk up and down his pulsing shaft.  His hips began to thrust, his grunts demanding more, but I was bound and determined to take this at my own pace.

 

Ryan had no such compunction, and was using every trick in the book to get me off.  He knew me so well that it didn’t take long before I was spilling myself over his hand, the sheets, and his belly.  It took all of my effort not to bite down on his sensitive crown at the moment of my orgasm, but I couldn’t suppress the reflex completely, and when my teeth dragged across his flesh, his hips bucked so wildly, I was nearly thrown from my perch. 

 

A sweet lethargy came over me at my completion, but I continued to stroke him leisurely, fondling his sac and running my tongue around in its never ending circles.  I could keep this up for hours, and had on one memorable occasion when some minor drug ingestion had rendered him less sensitive than normal.  Of course, we were both a bit younger then but I was still confident in my abilities.  I may tell the newspapers that I only have one marketable skill, and that may be true to some extent, but I do know how to make love—particularly to one Ryan Lee Stiles. 

 

His hand moved away, and if I hadn’t already come, I would have just at the sight of him cleaning me from his fingers.  Feeling a blast of erotic heat going through me at the sight, I decided to again step things up, and made my grip tighter as I began to move my lips along his shaft in time to my hand movements.  He began to growl, deep in his chest and when I judged the time was right, I closed my fingers around his scrotum and gave the whole thing a nice gentle squeeze and then tugged, just lightly. 

 

With a strangled cry, he poured himself into my waiting mouth, and I greedily took everything he had to offer, not giving up until he was soft and pliant once again.  Sighing in satisfaction, I released him and levered myself over until I was lying beside him.  He leaned over and kissed me, his eyes once again heavy-lidded and sated.  “Good morning,” he burred.

 

“It’s still early,” I replied.  “Go on back to sleep.”

 

“…time…?”

 

I checked.  “Almost quarter to eight.  What time did you get in?”

 

“…dunno,” he mumbled in response, eyes blinking slowly.  “Four?   Five, maybe?”

 

“Then you definitely need a little more shut-eye.  Go ahead.  The world can do without you for a little while longer, Captain Sex-Fiend.”

 

His eyes opened wide for just a moment.  “Me?  You’re the one who started this.”

 

“Technically, you are.  I was just responding to a presented opportunity.”

 

“See how you are?”

 

Chuckling, I brushed my lips against his.  “Sleep, now.  It’ll do you good.”

 

Rolling to his side, he placed a hand on my cheek, allowed his eyes to finally close, and was fast asleep within thirty seconds.

 

********

To be continued....

Comments

[krzcowzgomoo.livejournal.com]

heee...This chapter was jolly good fun to read! xDD *snuggles story*

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

Aww. Thanks!

[saltyj.livejournal.com]

I really wish I had a penis right now...silk...mmm...

I lol'ed at myself. :P

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

Heh. LOL!

[crabby-monkey.livejournal.com]

And if Colin tucks that silk handkerchief back into his breast pocket, every now and then he'll catch that distinct smell of Ryansex. :-) I wonder if he'd mop his forehead with it, and then blush, afraid that someone else could catch the scent?

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

Well, since it wasn't...er..."soiled", I don't see why not. Let me think how I can fit that in. I like it!

[ryanmochrie.livejournal.com]

I think agree with saltyj! lol and wouldn't it be just fantastic to wake up, do that, and go back to sleep? That is the life!

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

LOL! If you have the right equipment, a silk hankie isn't that expensive. ;)

[purwliia.livejournal.com]

My Lord, you really need to stop putting wonderful (I mean bad ;-))images into my head. Or rather not, I could use that technique someday, you just may never know ;-). Wonderful chapter.

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

LOL! Well, don't worry, the chapter I posted above has no such images. So you can relax for a chapter or two. CAn't promise anything after that, tho. ;)

[zekkass.livejournal.com]

Mmm.

And that would sum it all up, I think. ;)

[natyu0815.livejournal.com]

Great chapter!!! :D