Short Story, Ry/Col, corny fluffy stuff.

[ravenousboa.livejournal.com]

Title: Private Dancer (1/2)
Pairing: Ry/Col
Rating: R
Summary: Peeping Tom Ryan is discovered.
Notes: Fluffy sex follows in part II. Am actually writing it now. Screw studying. lol
Disclaimer: Don’t sue me. It’s only because I love them and they’re yummy. It’s only fun fiction.

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Colin entered his bedroom, flipped on the light, and grabbed a pair of pj’s from the dresser drawer. It had been a particularly taxing day, although dinner with Greg had been impeccable, and the conversation delightful. Still, he was looking forward to a relaxing Friday evening all to himself. He’d brought up a bottle of his favourite wine and a hardback copy of the newest Stephen King novel, preparing to let himself be thrilled into a comatose sleep. Devil may care if he had bizarre nightmares later.

Colin’s home was fairly secluded and surrounded by trees. He didn’t feel the need to close his bedroom blinds when he changed. In fact, he even relished in being able to walk around his bedroom in the nude. It let him humour his secret exhibitionist side, while not really exposing himself to anyone. And this brought him great joy. Feeling the air on his skin relaxed him like nothing else, and the freedom he enjoyed reminded him of the first time he rode his bike down a hill, or the first time he went sailing. Breathtaking and refreshing all at once.

 Little did he know that he had an admirer when he indulged in this habit of his.

He stood at the side of his king size bed which was covered in satin, earth tones, and toed his shoes off. Then he reached over to turn on the small stereo system, and soon found himself humming along with the sultry ballade on the radio. He let his body go, swayed in time to the beats of the drum, while one hand wondered to his pale throat and his fingers guided the top button of his baby blue Ralph Lauren shirt through the button hole. He had wanted to change quickly into his cotton pajama bottoms, and hop into his favourite reading chair. But the music had taken its hold on him. He could wait for the comfort of the cool material on his skin to enjoy a moment or two of solitary silliness.

His admirer watched with great interest from his perch in the old oak tree outside the window. His eyes widened as the man inside seductively danced and removed his shirt, seemingly just for his eyes. The secret observer licked his lips and tried to control his breathing as Colin, simply enjoying a moment with a favourite song, let the blue cotton shirt slip from his shoulders and gather at his feet on the floor. The man was being such a tease, and he didn’t even know it, with his uncharacteristically graceful turns and swaying hips.

Colin’s body began moving in a new way now, utterly enticing the oak tree viewer to a new level. The apparent exotic dancer was now waving his body, imitating a slithering snake or the rise and fall of the tide. And the temporary inhabitant of the tree gasped when the dancer ran his hands down his bare chest seductively. In reality Colin was trying to soothe the sudden chills he felt at the loss of his shirt, and catch an itch along the way, without scratching his sensitive skin. And the provocative new dance move? Well, no one was looking right?

The sight of the older man’s fingers grazing threw his baby fine chest hair was delicious to the watcher out the window, however, and soon the silent spectator felt a tingling in his groin, his breathing grew rapid, and his heart rate unknowingly matched that of the song’s rhythm.

He let the movement of his hand mirror that of the performer’s and he allowed his fingers to dance on his abdomen just under the waist of his jeans, while Colin did  the same, simply righting the crooked elastic of his boxer shorts. To the curious outsider the action had a different meaning. To one pinned to his post by the sight alone, out of context, this looked like a finger, or two, greeting the tip of a needy member, and the watcher touched himself and found that he was quite needy too. He’d always responded to Colin very easily, and often had no choice but to indulge in the act of self-pleasuring, with the image of Colin running through his fantasy. Colin’s lips on the rim of his glass, Colin sitting with his legs crossed and folded hands resting upon his knee, Colin’s lips moving as he spoke, Colin’s head thrown back in a fit of laughter, Colin’s hind quarters shifting in his slow strides whenever he walked away.

 The observer wrapped his long fingers around his engorged shaft and began a soft, methodical stroking rhythm while Colin’s fingers reappeared and took hold of the zipper of his faded jeans. Colin turned his body in three sharp turns, getting more and more into the music playing in the background. Now his rear end was in view, his hips swinging in soft staccato from side to side, and the watcher moaned softly at the sight, tugging harder at his need.

Colin took both jeans and boxers between his thumbs and index fingers, and leisurely slid the clothing down to the floor, revealing a tight, but round and full bottom and long, slender, milky white thighs.

Just as he stepped out of his apparel, he heard something outside, a gasp and a rustle of leaves in the old oak tree.

Colin dashed to the window, ready to open it in a mock investigation of the sound, when he saw a figure, clumsily attempting to right himself on the branch. Thinking better of it, he grabbed the dark chocolate brown chenille throw from the foot of the bed, wrapped it around his waist and grabbed his cell phone from the dresser. He dialed 911, and was about to press talk, when he heard a voice.

 “Col?”

 And again, more desperate.

 “COLIN!”

 Colin tossed the phone onto the bed, and slowly approached the window. Looking closely, he made out a long body, dangling from a thick branch of the tree. The stranger’s legs and arms were wrapped around the tree limb and the man was gasping for air. He’d apparently nearly fallen two floors to the ground and was hanging on for dear life.

 “Ryan?”

 

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 “What in the blazes of glory are you doing out there? Are you spying on me?”

“I’m sorry Col, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see you.”

 “You nearly gave me a coronary, friend. Why didn’t you come to the door like always?”

 “Oh Colin, I don’t know.”

Ryan and Colin sat on the foot of the bed now, side by side, slightly turned toward one another in conversation. Ryan continually shrugged, his head hung low. He refused to look his friend of over 15 years in the eye.

“Ryan, is the first time, you’ve used my oak tree as a first row seat at the corny version of the Moulin Rouge?”

 “No” Ryan shrugged again, “but it is the first time I’ve used it as a private loge to the most exquisite ballet I’ve ever seen.”

Colin blushed, lowered his head, and shifted on the bed, loosening the bond of the throw around his middle just slightly, granting the visitor a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of the older man’s hip. This had, however, gone unnoticed by Colin alone.

Ryan laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, quietly asking him to look into his eyes. The green eyes had always comforted Colin. They reminded him of far off seas, calm and serene. He sighed, exhaling his earlier panic and regarded his friend inquisitively.

“Col. I come here to watch you sleep. You’re so beautiful, and you look so peaceful. Your peace reaches my soul when it is restless. When I can’t sleep, I come here.”

Ryan smiled a loving smile at his beloved friend, and Colin studied his face. His pink cheeks raised slightly to accommodate the curve of his lips. His eyebrows were lifted high, allowing full access to those green discs that led to his depths. Colin suddenly tensed and looked away, and Ryan slid his arm around the older man’s shoulder in an attempt to hug him closer.

“Ryan, I . . . ” he stammered. He didn’t know what he even wanted to say at this point. “Ryan, what are you not telling me? I’ve known you for over half my life time. Why do you come to my window?” The real question he wanted to ask was, “Why did you never come inside, to me?”

“Oh . . .,” Ryan sighed and squeezed his friend gently against him in a sideways hug.

“I . . . ,” he tried. “I’ve lo . . . ,” he mumbled, and the words failed him again.  He buried his face in Colin’s shoulder, forcing the older man to urge him to finish.

“Come on Ry. You can tell me anything.”

“I’ve loved you for so long.” The words burst out of Ryan’s mouth, accompanied by a long drawn out sigh, and liberated him. The feelings of unrequited love set free now, awaiting their fate.

“Col, I . . . ” His lips, parted in speech, did not draw in air, but felt the momentary contact of  familiar lips on his.

“Colin?”

But his words were swallowed again by those lips as they melded into his, a gentle pair of hands resting on his cheeks, tenderly pulling him closer. Colin held Ryan’s bottom lip securely between his, softly suckling it and feeling his tall friend sigh against them. His lips then parted to deepen this first kiss, both men’s lips lovingly caressing those of the other. Colin wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders, pulling him in tightly, and Ryan wound his long limbs around Colin’s waist, their upper bodies finally touching.

Ryan closed his eyes, breathing in Colin’s scent and savouring the moment, recording every feeling, every brush of lips on lips, every sigh. He slid his large hands slowly up Colin’s smooth back and cupped his head, holding him in place as he begged for entrance into his friend’s sighing mouth. His tongue slipped between the parted lips to skim the older man’s own tongue, the taste of lemon meringue lingered in the expecting mouth. Their tongues danced and swirled around each other, their saliva mixing together. Ryan swept his tongue over the roof of Colin’s mouth, tasting, probing, drinking him in. He’d died and gone to heaven.

But Colin’s soft moan was Ryan’s cue to pull away.

Colin blinked, confused, and looked at his friend. “What’s the matter Ry?”

“Colin, does this mean . . .? I mean do you . . . ?” He couldn’t finish the question, and looked away. The curiosity hurt too much, and the anticipation of a rejection, despite Colin’s show of affection, would crush him.

Colin took over, taking Ryan’s chin in his fingers and turning his head to meet his gaze.

“For as long as there have been beating hearts, mine has beat for you.” He didn’t mean to use the mock CD salesman voice, but the sentiment warmed Ryan so much, that tears began welling up in his eyes. He grabbed Colin up in his arms and held onto him as though he were clinging to his very soul. Colin spread kisses over his face, murmuring sweet things all the while… a “too long” here and “I’ve loved you” there, and “glad you finally told me.”

TBC