wl_fanfiction | [FIC] FEEL ME 11/?

makingamochrie.livejournal.com posting in

Morning! Pure, unadulterated fluff this chapter. Not to be confused with the type of 'fluff' used prior to the director yelling ACTION! in a porn movie. Alas, no sex, no drugs, only a tiny bit of Greg, but it does move the plot forward.

TITLE: Feel Me
PART: 11/?
PAIRING: Mochrie/Stiles and friends!
RATING: NC-17 for mansmut (none in this chapter)
DISCLAIMER: FICTION! Don't own, don't sue, Rikky, don't lose that number!
SUMMARY: Whores and gamblin! Whores and gamblin, that's Ne-vAAAAA-dah!

Of course, when the impromptu show was over, Greg and I got read the royal riot act, but we could tell that Drew wasn’t really as angry as he pretended to be. Technically, we really hadn’t done anything wrong except indirectly cause several fire code violations due to the packing of the room. We let him rant and rave and do his boss thing, knowing that when he ran out of invectives and insults to our mothers, the storm would blow over, never to be mentioned again. Drew was like that, and it made him a good man to work for—and with.

Both Greg and I demurred when Drew finally wound down and changed the subject to finding some liquor and getting pissed. I was slowly coming down from my adrenaline-fueled high, and it left me feeling spent and exhausted. Surprisingly, Ryan agreed and, dropping an arm across my shoulders, walked complacently with myself and Greg as we headed for the elevators that would take us back to our rooms.

We were stopped by fans a few times along the way, but after signing my fifteenth autograph, my eyelids began to droop, and Ryan, while still maintaining his outward friendliness, began to give off the subtle air of a cat who just might be ready to unsheathe his claws at you if you keep petting him like that. Sensing that, the fans backed off, and the rest of our walk was unmolested.

After a short stop to let Greg off, with a tired “night, guys, see you tomorrow”, we headed up to the top floor and exited into the dim stillness of an empty hallway. Ryan led me to his room, which was, not so coincidentally, an exact duplicate of my own, right down to the kind of hideous pattern on the bedspread.

Without much thought and already half asleep, I toed off my sneakers, yanked off my shirt, shucked my jeans, and fell into bed in my underwear and socks. Still not fully asleep, I heard Ryan sigh quietly, and then begin to disrobe. The sibilant hiss of clothing sliding against skin ordinarily would have been a turn-on, but at the moment, it simply left me feeling warm and content. So much so, in fact, that I jumped a little when I felt his hand on my calf, but it was only so that he could remove my socks. Then, because he has this need to feel skin on skin with me whenever we’re together, he gently lifted my hips and removed the last of my clothing.

Several seconds later, I felt the mattress depress as his weight slid upon it, and then the heat of his body as it came to press against mine from behind. “You know,” he rumbled close to my ear, “we’re gonna wind up freezing if you don’t let me turn down the covers.”

“You’ll keep me warm,” I replied confidently, sliding back so that our bodies met all along their lengths. And it was true, too. Ryan gave off the ambient warmth of a thermonuclear blast, leaving me bathed in sweat most mornings after the nights we spent together.

“Yeah, but who’ll keep me warm?”

Okay, so he had a point.

Sighing, I lifted my body and he scrambled to pull down the spread, blanket and sheets. Then I tumbled back in, enjoying the coolness of the soft, clean cotton against my bare skin. He slid in again, this time on his back, and with deft hands maneuvered me so that I was lying on my side, facing him, my head on his shoulder, and my arm thrown across his waist. His hand felt very nice tracing nonsensical patterns up and down my back, and I let out a long, quiet breath, feeling the last of the tension dissolve from my body.

It’s been a joke for years that Ryan and I have some sort of telepathic communication going on between us that allows us to read one another’s intentions, finish sentences, and the like. And sometimes, I wish that were the truth. The facts are a bit more mundane than that, consisting of a combination of a long and enduring partnership, similar personalities, training and experience, and a healthy dollop of good, old-fashioned horse sense. And, of course, a natural chemistry between us that, like all others of its kind, lacks any sort of rational explanation. We just…fit, and it’s been like that for us from the first. If I was a New Age practitioner, I’d say that our souls have been entwined through many lifetimes and incarnations, but since I’m not, I think that the Muppets said it best: We’re ‘old friends who’ve met again for the first time’. Or something along those lines.

In any event, I could tell, even in the darkness and even half asleep, that something was worrying away at Ryan’s thoughts. It wasn’t anything outward; his body felt relaxed and supple against mine, his breathing soft and regular. But still, I knew there was something wrong.

Another similarity between us is our tendency to clam up when someone asks us a direct question that we don’t particularly want to answer. The best way to try and wriggle the answer out is to do what the Americans call an ‘end around’ and, sleep be damned, that’s what I was going to try.

“Fun show tonight.”

He snorted softly. “I thought Drew was going shit kittens when he heard what you guys were doing.”

“I can imagine,” I replied, smiling as I pictured the scene. “Run fast, did he?”

“Like his ass was on fire.”

“Mm. Well, we didn’t plan it or anything. Just sort of came up, spur of the moment.”

“Hell, I don’t mind. I thought it was pretty funny, myself.”

“Well, you sure surprised the hell out of me when you showed up on stage.”

He laughed, rubbing my back firmly. “Glad I can still get a rise out of you after all these years.”

“Oh, you get that practically every time you look in my direction.”

His heartbeat sped up then, but not for the obvious reason, I knew. We were trembling on the precipice of the problem.

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding almost shy, and on Ryan Stiles, that’s a strange look.

“I’d think it’s pretty obvious.” He hesitated, and I ran a hand lightly over his chest. “C’mon, Ry, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Noth—.”

“Ryan….”

“Alright,” he said, a bit irritably, though I knew it was just for show. “It’s just…. Damnit, Col, twice now, I’ve asked you to…you know…come inside me, and twice you’ve said ‘no’. I usually don’t have to beg you for something like that. Is it…something I did? Something I didn’t do? Something I said?”

He sounded so sad and unsure, I couldn’t help but tighten my arm around him, squeezing him tightly to me. He grunted, and I eased up, just a little. “No, Ryan,” I murmured, brushing my lips against the skin of his chest. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it? Why don’t you want to…?”

“I do!” I insisted. “I love being with you like that. You know that.”

“Well, I thought I did….”

“Well, you can stop thinking, because I do. God, being inside you, it’s…amazing. Wonderful. I feel…transported.”

“Then why, Col? You asked me what the problem was, and now I’m asking you. Why?”

I paused, trying to figure out the best way to frame my answer, and I heard his heartbeat gallop away in his chest, felt his body tense subtly along mine, as if he was expecting an answer he didn’t want to hear, and was steeling himself against it. “Stop it,” I hissed, clasping his side along his lower ribs and squeezing firmly. “Stop it right now. I love you, Ryan. I’m in love with you, so much so that it hurts sometimes, the intensity of it. I’m also extremely attracted to you, and I don’t foresee any one of the above changing any time in the future.”

I could feel his chest concave as he let out a silent breath of relief.

“As for why I haven’t done that with you,” I continued, “let’s just say I’ve been waiting for the right time.”

My neck bent at an awkward angle as he raised himself up on his elbows. “Right time? When the hell have you ever needed a ‘right time’ to fuck me?”

Sliding slightly away, I turned and copied his pose. “Since I’ve had this plan in mind.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, sounding much more like the man I knew. “What kind of plan?”

Internally, I shrugged. I hadn’t intended on bringing up the topic quite so early, or quite in this way, but I guessed I probably wouldn’t get such a golden opportunity again. “You remember, a few years back when we were here, that club I took you to?”

“The kinky Country Club?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah….” he said, warily, but with an undercurrent of definite interest.

“I was thinking of paying it another visit. With you, of course,” I hastened to add, just to avoid any misunderstandings.

“Really.” Oh yes, the interest was definitely there, even if he wasn’t quite willing to admit it aloud yet.

“Yes, really. I mean, we’ve got some extra time before the shows, and I thought, maybe….”

“Maybe what?”

I sighed. He was being deliberately obtuse, but I didn’t really mind. Feeling him out on the thing was my objective, after all. “Maybe…see the sights. Dance a little. Check out the rooms downstairs.”

Bingo. His heart started galloping away again, though for an entirely different reason than before. Though we hadn’t been in any of the rooms in what they called ‘The Dungeon’ the one time we visited the establishment together, he knew what they were used for, and if his increased respirations were any indication, he was interested in far more than a simple tour.

“What would we do there?” his voice was so deliberate in its innocence, I had to grin.

“Ah, well, that would be cheating, you see.”

“And if I said no?”

“Then I’d consider the matter closed.”

His hand came down on my thigh, lightly caressing. “I…think I might like that. If we went, I mean.”

With one victory in hand, I bit the bullet and tried for a second. “I was actually…speaking to Greg about the place earlier.” His hand stilled. “He’s a member, too. He was talking about taking a trip over, maybe when Jeff arrives.”

“Jeff, huh?”

Good. I hadn’t blown it yet.

“Yeah. Apparently, you and Jeff share similar…tastes.”

“And you tasted him when?”

“Only when we kissed on the set,” I replied. “Nice lips. Very soft.”

Nicer, if not quite so soft lips covered mine then, and I forgot all about Jeff. Hell, I even forgot my own name there for a minute. Okay, maybe a couple of minutes. Ryan is an excellent kisser.

I decided, spur of the moment—it seemed my night for that—to let talk of Greg and others lie still for awhile. I’d planted the seed in Ryan’s mind. There was time enough to see if anything germinated.

And speaking of germination….

“Ryan?” I asked, slightly breathless as he finally broke the kiss.

“Mm?”

“Remember what I said right before I left the room this evening?”

“Mm. Hm.”

I grabbed his hand and ran it slowly down my belly to its intended target. “It’s later.”

It most certainly was.

*******

To be continued...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

krzcowzgomoo.livejournal.com

MMm, tha twas lovely. And even more than anything else in the world I loved the Steely Dan reference in your disclaimer...xD (but it's spelt Rikki....sorry, huge Steely Dan fan here, can't help myself)

From:

makingamochrie.livejournal.com

You'd think that with my new god status, I'd know things like that, but the manual's on back order, so thanks! I've corrected my error. ;) Seriously, glad you enjoyed!