[FIC] Smoke and Song

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

Title: Smoke and Song
Author: Clay
Pairing: Ryan/Colin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In response to Broadway Bound’s “Greg takes the guys to a gay bar” challenge AND to Patricia’s Seven Deadly Sins challenge: Envy.




“And why, exactly, are we here again?”

Greg turned to Wayne and smiled, bright and sarcastic. “Well, I was thinking we could get some ass.”

Wayne looked absolutely horrified. I was sure Greg was joking, but pretty much everything he said was laced with a derisive sort of humor, so it was hard to tell. Besides, Wayne had a valid point: why had Greg suggested we go out to a gay bar instead of our usual hang out, and more importantly, what had possessed us to go along?

We were four married men, after all, with children, no less, and certainly not the types of guys one would usually find in a horrid little dive in west L.A. And “dive” really was the best word for it. You’d have to dig deep to find the array of scantily dressed men before us now; I doubted even Hell would be this smokey and sin infested and loud. An absolutely horrid techno beat spewed from the speakers. We were practically yelling to be heard over it.

Wayne was still staring at Greg in hopeful disbelief, so Greg rolled his eyes and said, “Think of it as an exercise. A chance to hone our improv skills.”

“But did we have to come here?”

“Jesus, Wayne, lighten up.” Greg snorted. “We’re just getting a few drinks, not bedding the place.”

Ryan chuckled beside me, and Greg looked to him, still smiling. “You think this was a good idea, right?”

Ryan shrugged. He was smiling, too. “Sure.” It was said in a low enough tone that the only reason I could make out the word was because I had read his lips.

Greg looked to me then. “Colin?”

I didn’t answer right away. Truthfully the place made me uncomfortable, but I wasn’t about to say that. I had actually agreed to come, not for the chance to continue improving off stage, but because I was genuinely curious. And I’d never admit to it, but I wanted to see what the atmosphere and a few drinks would do to Ryan.

“It’s fine with me.”

“Ha!” Greg smirked and spun on Wayne. “Out voted, bitch,” he laughed.

“Fine.” Wayne heaved a sigh, but he was finally smiling, too.

We settled at a table in the midst of things. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed, but most of the men were situated at the bar or on the dance floor, and we had our pick of locations. I would have preferred some place out of the way, a dark corner where the music was muted, and we had less of a chance of being recognized, but it wasn’t up to me. Now that Wayne had given in he was getting excited. With him it was always all or nothing, and now he was conferring with Greg, trying to find a place where we would be in plain view, where we could see everyone and they could see us.

Ryan volunteered to go up to the bar for drinks, coming back minutes later with everyone’s order and a pitcher of beer to boot.

Before they had even taken a sip, however, both Wayne and Greg were being propositioned and then led out onto the dance floor. Ryan and I were left alone. We drank in silence for a few minutes, just watching our friends and thinking.

“Are you going to dance?” Ryan asked suddenly.

I shook my head, lifting my mug of beer as I replied, “I’m just here to drink.”

Ryan nodded. He was looking out at the dance floor again.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Ryan shrugged. “Honestly, I’d rather leave the improv on stage and just be myself for a while.”

I frowned. “You can’t be yourself here?”

Ryan opened his mouth to reply and then paused, turning to me with a bemused smile. “Why, Col,” he said, laughing, “I go out dancing with men every weekend. Didn’t you know?”

“No,” I chuckled back at him, blushing, and hiding behind my beer. “I just meant that we’re not in the public’s eye right now. They don’t know us here. That’s why they’re dancing.” I waved vaguely in Greg and Wayne’s direction. “We can do what we want.”

“That’s true,” Ryan agreed. The smile had fallen from his face so that he was now only watching me curiously. “But what makes you think I would want to dance?”

I stared straight back at him. “I would.”

Ryan didn’t reply, just continued to look at me, consider me, perhaps trying to dissect the meaning behind my words or the fact that a minute ago I had said I was only here for the alcohol. Then he blinked, turned away, took up his own drink again and the moment was gone.

When conversation picked up again, it was back to the same old subjects: work and sports and the like. Greg and Wayne popped back to the table every so often to down a shot or jump into the conversation, but they were both quite popular amongst the patrons and never stayed for long. At one point Greg disappeared for almost twenty minutes, only to return flushed and smiling, a secret in his eyes. Throughout the next hour and a half they made various attempts to drag Ryan and I out onto the dance floor, but we always refused.

Conversation slowed as we continued to drink. I was feeling happy now, awash in the music I had originally found obnoxious, just enjoying the atmosphere. As we drank our voices grew progressively lower, and Ryan and I had to move closer and closer together to be heard over the din. We were practically leaning on each other now, shoulders touching lightly, each stretching to whisper our comments in the other’s ear.

Ryan’s voice tickled the shell of my ear as he said, “That guy is watching you.”

Without even a hint of self consciousness, I looked up to where Ryan was nodding. Just a few tables away a huge bear of a man sat leering at me. The moment our eyes met he smiled, lewd and promising, showing twin rows of small, tobacco stained teeth.

I laughed and turned away, pretty much burying my nose in Ryan’s neck. “Ew.”

“Oh, come on.” Ryan gave me a playful shove. He smelled like beer and aftershave. “You know you want him.”

“No...” I was whining now. I wrapped both arms around one of Ryan’s, the alcohol effectively digressing me into a five year old. “I want to stay here with you.”

I felt rather than heard Ryan’s answering laugh. It rumbled in his chest, warm and pleasant, and I leaned into him further, loving it.

“Shall we let him know you’re off limits?”

“Yes,” I said immediately, my mind not even bothering to consider what that might entail.

“All right.”

Ryan stood, extracting his arm from my grip. I frowned at the loss of contact. I looked up to Ryan, pouting. He extended one hand. A small, drunken smile played about his lips.

“Dance with me?”

“Okay,” I giggled. I actually giggled. The alcohol must have gotten to me faster than I had anticipated, or maybe it was just this place.

I gripped Ryan’s hand and let him tug me to my feet, his fingers wrapped around my own, strong and safe. He led me to the dance floor, winding between men young and old, boys in black mesh tops and business men in wrinkled suits and loosened ties.

Music was still spilling from the speakers, an unfamiliar R & B song. Those around us were dancing close, even grinding against each other to the sensual beat. Just to our right I spotted Greg and Wayne. They, too, were caught up in the music, drunk, lacking all but the vaguest of inhibitions, eyes closed, and pressed far closer together than I’d ever seen them before. It was a strange, intoxicating sight.

But I wasn’t so far gone as to let myself do the same. Ryan placed both hands on my hips, guiding us. I looped my own around his neck, but otherwise didn’t touch him. I think I was afraid of what full on contact might do to me.

Ryan, however, was not. He pulled me close, pressing his chest to mind as he said, “No one will think we’re together if you won’t touch me.” It was said low, hummed against my cheek. I could just barely see his eyes in my peripheral vision. They were half lidded and inviting.

I pulled back, but pushed my hips forward at the same time, leaning so as to look in his face properly.

“You want them to think we’re together?”

“Of course. That way they’ll leave us alone.”

Oh. Right. I knew that.

And then I was moving forward again to lay my cheek against Ryan’s collar, swaying to the music. I didn’t even like this song, but the feel of it was just so nice. The feel of Ryan. It wasn’t the first time we’d been this close, or even the first time we’d danced, and each time I was always amazed at how good he felt, how solid, stick thin, but undeniably there, all wiry muscle and hard planes that seemed to melt and mold into my body.

It was almost too nice, too right. We should have been dancing earlier, not just tonight, but years ago. I hugged him tight to me, and Ryan replied by doing the same.

“I like this,” he said suddenly.

I hummed a response, too content to even consider forming real words.

“We should dance more often.”

The beer must certainly have been getting to him, but it was getting to me, too, because I said exactly what I was thinking. “Yes. We should.”

We continued that way for some time, swaying on the dance floor as one song flowed into the next. It was hardly the ideal romantic location, loud and smokey and smelling of stale beer and sweat, but none of that mattered because I was in Ryan’s arms.

That thought took me by surprise, and I jolted to a halt. I hadn’t meant that. I know I hadn’t. Sure I’d always liked the feel of him, loved it when he’d grant me a smile or I could make him laugh. And yeah, I’d been excited about the prospect of getting Ryan into a gay bar, but it didn’t mean...

Oh.

“Col? You okay?”

Ryan tilted my chin up with two fingers. He watched me with concern, a little frown curving down the corners of his full, pink lips.

“Yeah.” It came out rough, gravely, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yes, I–“

“Mind if I cut in?”

A hand dropped on my shoulder and I started. Ryan was looking at the newcomer, frown quite a bit more pronounced, eyes going dark and unreadable. The hand was exerting the slightest pressure now, trying to get me away from the man’s intended target, and I spun, ready to tell whoever the fuck it was to get lost and couldn’t he see we were a couple and–

The words died in my throat. It was Greg.

He was smiling at Ryan shark-like, all teeth and hunger. I involuntarily took a step back, inadvertently making room for Greg to squeeze between us.

Ryan’s frown deepened further still, and he looked back to me. “Actually, Colin and I–“

“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Greg gave me one last shove and slid up against Ryan, winding his arms around Ryan’s neck like a boa constrictor ready to squeeze the life out of its prey. “Do you, Colin?” He didn’t even spare me a glance.

“No,” I replied, low and even. “Of course not.” It was a lie, of course; the biggest, most horrifyingly false lie I’d ever told in my life, but it also gave me a way out. I needed to get away, to think about my feelings, and Greg was providing the perfect opportunity, even if the sight of him hanging onto Ryan made me want to vomit.

Ryan was saying something else, calling out to me, but I had already turned and was practically running back to our table. I couldn’t watch them for one more second.

To my surprise, Wayne was seated there, alone, and nursing something pink in a wide, fruit adorned glass.

“Hey,” he greeted me as I plopped down beside him, taking up and downing my warming, half flat beer in one gulp.

I nodded in reply and grabbed the pitcher, refilling my drink. I’d quit smoking years ago, but I suddenly, desperately needed a cigarette.

“Saw you dancing with Ryan,” Wayne was saying. It came out slightly slurred and giddy. “This is fun, isn’t it?”

“Fun,” I snorted. “Yeah.”

Wayne heaved a happy sigh, oblivious to my sarcasm. “I love feeling wanted,” he said, almost to himself. This was followed by an impromptu dance and, “Everyone wants some of the Wayne man...”

Despite myself I had to laugh. At least one of us was enjoying himself... two if you counted Greg. Battling against better judgement, I dared a look at the dance floor. The music was still sensuously slow, and Greg was taking full advantage of that fact, slithering against Ryan in a way that had me seeing red. If Ryan wasn’t quite as into it, I didn’t notice; I was far too involved with a delightful little fantasy of grinding Greg’s face into the floor with my heel.

“Check them out.”

It didn’t even occur to me that Wayne might be talking about anyone else. My hands tightened around my mug, gripping it so hard that I swear I heard the glass crack.

“We can do better than that. Come on.”

Wayne’s words didn’t register at first. Only when he was pulling me to my feet and dragging me back onto the floor did I realize his intent. I dug my heels into the worn tile, pulling back and saying, “I can’t dance.”

But this didn’t deter Wayne in the least. “You just need the right teacher,” he insisted, pulling me along with more strength than I’d given him credit for. In no time were lost amongst the dancers, Greg and Ryan to our immediate left.

Wayne placed my hands on his hips, his back toward me, bucking his hips in time to the music and instructing I do the same. But it wasn’t working. I tried, half-heartedly I’ll admit, but my movements were jerky, stilted.

“No,” Wayne whined. He tossed his head back to press his cheek against mine. His hands came up over his head to caress my face and shoulders, moving ever so slowly downward until our arms were crisscrossed, my palms still resting lightly on his hips while he held onto mine, his hands guiding my pelvis. “Like this,” he said. He rolled his hips back and forth, taking me with him as though we were two men sharing the same body. “Close your eyes,” Wayne purred. “Pretend you’re having sex.”

I did as I was told and was only mildly surprised when I envisioned it was Ryan against me, his back to my front, pressed together from shoulder to thigh, twisting and swaying as one.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

In my mind it was Ryan saying those things to me. It was Ryan’s whose hands left my hips to grasp at my ass, pulling us yet closer. Ryan’s sides I was trailing my fingers up. Ryan’s chest, hot and alive beneath my palm’s. Ryan’s nipples hard beneath the material of his dress shirt, responding with quickened breath to my every ministration.

“Yes,” I hissed, and without thinking I darted my tongue out to lick at the smooth column of neck resting against my collar bone.

And then suddenly it was gone. The body against mine disappeared in a flash, jerked away unnaturally to leave me cold and alone. My eyes shot open.

And I saw Ryan.

He looked absolutely furious. His hands clutched, knuckle white on Wayne’s forearms. Wayne looked lost, dazed, and just beyond I could see Greg scowling at me.

What the Hell was going on?

Ryan nearly threw Wayne aside. The next instant he was upon me, eyes dark and dangerous, nose bumping mine as he growled, “He’s not allowed to touch you like that. You’re mine.”

And before I had the chance to even consider formulating a response, he was kissing me hard, mouth open, teeth clacking against mine, tongue invading my mouth in a way that had a certain part of me jumping to attention in a matter of seconds. Ryan’s hands came up to cradle my cheeks firmly, but gently.

I was responding without thought, kissing Ryan back, grinding against him. It was the very last thing I had expected from him, but it was oh so welcome. I slid my arms around his back, clutching the material of his shirt and drawing him closer.

Distantly I heard Wayne’s laughter and a grim muttered comment from Greg. I kissed Ryan harder, exploring the pliant lips and tongue with my own. My God, but it felt good.

It didn’t matter where we were or that we had an audience of complete strangers along with two friends who saw us as solid family men. They could watch if they wanted; I didn’t care. In fact, it gave me a perverse thrill to be claiming Ryan so in front of Greg.

Just then Ryan moaned deep in his throat, and I could think of nothing else, no one but him. He thrust his hips against mine. He was hard, I noted, something warm and tingly pooling in the pit of my stomach, and I wasn’t far off either.

He broke away to whisper against my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay.”

He nodded, swallowed and then looked around. Greg and Wayne were standing a little ways away, Wayne smirking and Greg looking very, very pissed. I tightened my hold on Ryan, feeling a small, wicked smile pull at my lips.

“Greg,” Ryan barked. “Give me your car keys.”

“What?” Greg had his arms crossed, frowning. “Why?”

“Keys. Now.”

Greg hesitated another moment. He was staring at me, almost through me, eyes hard and cold. I was still clutching Ryan to me, but that look wiped away any vestige of arrogance that resided within me. He wanted to kill me. Finally, and with a frustrated sigh, he dug into his pants pocket and produced the keys, throwing them, rather violently, at Ryan.

Without another word Ryan had detached himself from me and grabbed my hand, tugging me through the crowd and out into the cool night air. The breeze kissed my overheated skin, making me shiver involuntarily.

Ryan came to a halt just feet from Greg’s little blue Sedan.

“Wait,” he said, eyes wide, startled. His hand was still closed tight around mine, the other fingering the keys. His pupils were darting back and forth, searching my eyes. “You’re okay with this, right?”

That question seemed absolutely absurd, but then again Ryan wasn’t in my head. He had a point, though, as I realized how sudden this must feel, moving forward from an unprompted kiss without a word. We needed to talk... but now, my body urged impatiently, was definitely not the time.

I smiled. “Yes. I am.” I leaned forward to kiss him gently, chastely, and pried the keys from his fingers. “Now if I’m not mistaken,” I said, still grinning at him, excited by the love I could see mirrored in his eyes, “there’s a back seat with our names on it.”

I could see relief sagging Ryan’s shoulders. He grinned back at me, winding both arms lightly around my waist. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes as he replied, “Oh, when we’re done there’ll be a lot more than names on those seats.”


End. ^_^

9/23/05