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wl_fanfictionDon’t Stand So Close to Me
For: Sungreen70
Rated: R again for language and some serious kiss-age
Pairing: Ry/ Col
Summary: The guys play a game and Colin tries to stop playing hard to get
Disclaimer: What is it with me and Jack Poo?
Chapter 4
Ryan really didn’t want to be here today. He wasn’t interested in improv. He wanted to learn stand up comedy because that’s where it was at. Improv was a complete waste of time and he knew it. That and his dark outlook on it was basically because it was his turn to go onstage with Mochrie, Proops and Brad.
He scowled at the watching guys as he sat on the third stool next to Brad, who was wisely sitting between him and Mochrie.
The tension between the two was skyrocketing, but Mochrie was so courteous to him Ryan couldn’t bring himself to say anything nasty to him.
“Okay my fellows,” Proops shouted, waving his hands about frantically, sounding like a televangelist. Everyone chuckled lightly. “We are going to play a game with two of your very own called ‘Let’s Make a Date’-” a few wolf whistles. Ryan glared at them. They shut up quickly. “Here we have three bachelors who are going to be given, hopefully, a comedy laced suggestion on how to behave or answer the questions I put to them. I’ll leave and stand outside and Mochrie will have you all shout out suggestions as to what these fine gentlemen should be,” he bowed and trotted offstage and Mochrie rose gracefully to his feet.
Ryan found himself staring at the snugly fitted seat of Mochrie’s slacks, a small smirk on his face when Brad elbowed him in the ribs. “Okay class, now I want a suggestion as to what Mr. Sherwood should be.”
“A raccoon!”
“Oh come on, you can do better than that,” Mochrie sighed.
“A horse menstruating in the desert!”
“Bob Fosse!”
“A disgruntled postal worker!”
“My narcoleptic uncle!”
“Okay, okay,” Mochrie smiled, “How about a Postal Worker who is training to be in a Bob Fosse musical?” Everyone roared approval.
Brad looked at the crowd, looking severely disgruntled. “Who the Hell is Bob Fosse?”
“He was a choreographer from Kiss Me Kate, and Damn Yankees.”
“Okay, I know who that is,” Brad rolled his eyes, wincing at things to come.
“Now who should Mr. Stiles be?”
“Tiny Tim!”
“Richard Nixon!”
“The Lenny Bruce version of the Lone Ranger!”
“A British Army drill sergeant!”
“That’s it,” Mochrie pointed at one smug looking kid. “Mr. Stiles, you are a verbally abusive British Army Drill Sergeant trying to whip the boys into shape.”
Ryan blinked at him, his face alone making the audience roar with laughter.
“Okay gentlemen, now what should I be?” Mochrie asked, putting his game face on for the tirade of offensive suggestions. There were very few, if any.
“A defecting Russian ballet dancer!”
“All of the Village People!” Mochrie grinned, scratching his nose lightly.
“Warden Weiz!” A few people made the ‘ooooo’ sounds, exchanging dark chuckles.
“A pantomime horse!”
“A stripper!”
Mochrie looked down, eyes narrowed slightly even as a smile tugged at his lips, at Jeff, who was sitting with his chin resting on Chip’s shoulder. He just smiled happily as Mochrie rolled his eyes. Even Ryan was grinning. “Fine, I’ll be a stripper.”
Everyone cheered.
“Officer Brady, would you kindly bring Greg in?” Brady nodded, knocking on the door, his bright white grin contrasting his dark skin as he smiled widely. “Remember, he isn’t supposed to know, so no giving it away.” Mochrie hastened to remind the students.
They nodded, intent on the action as Proops hopped back onstage. “Okay so what are they?” Proops asked the audience. Their lips were sealed. “Eh, fuck you guys.” Everyone laughed. Perching on the stool he began. “Bachelor number one!” His voice went higher and more nasal than usual. Mochrie slouched, glancing him up and down critically with an imaginary cigarette dangling from his crooked fingers. Ryan almost wondered how often the man had been in a strip club, he’d slipped into character so easily. “I enjoy all sorts of rough physical activities.” Someone barked out a laugh, making Proops cast a glance their way. “What do you like to do on your down time?”
“Well,” Mochrie’s voice was ragged, “most of my down time is spent going down.” He flushed slightly at the wolf whistles. “But when you work in a joint like this most of your time is spent on a table.” Mochrie took a drag on his cigarette, slumping in his chair. Ryan pressed his lips tightly together to keep from laughing. He could feel Brad next to him shaking with barely contained giggles.
“Alrighty then, I’ll be coming back to you later,” Proops smiled brightly. “Bachelor Number two, hey!” he waved.
Brad pretended to be sorting and filing mail at a rapid pace, twitching his head now and then. “Can’t talk to you now, these were all miss filed and/ or sent back!” His voice was slightly panicked but Ryan couldn’t tell if that was stage fright or just his character. Brad wasn’t bad.
“Uhm I’m sorry. Bachelor number two, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“What did I want to do?! Not this, I can tell you that! You know, I can’t take this anymore!” Brad shouted suddenly, jumping to his feet. “All this stamp licking has made me gain so much weight! I never wanted to work here,” he cried.
“Well what did you want to do?”
“You want to know? Well, actually I can’t tell you ‘cause that would ruin the game,” he mumbled. making some people chuckle. “Here’s my audition though,” he cleared his throat.
“Whatever Lola wants,
Lola gets,
And little man, little Lola wants you…”
“Bachelor number two you have a lovely singing voice! Just don’t quit your day job.” Brad blushed, holding back a smirk as the audience heckled him. “Bachelor number three?” Proops smirked. “Bachelor number three! When I was a child growing up in the burbs of Arizona, I used to sell spiked lemonade to the girls down the street. What pranks did you used to do?”
Ryan sighed, collecting his thought. Go time. “What kind of question is that?!” he roared, standing up and straightening to his full height. “Cor, what you need mate- sorry is that Australian?” he looked frantically at the floor, collecting his thoughts, “What you lot need is discipline! ‘Ere you will the learn the discipline and training needed to successfully subdue and conquer an enemy! Sorry! I spit on you!” Ryan shouted at a poor boy sitting right in front of him who was currently wiping his face and laughing so hard his face was red.
Proops shared a glance with the audience, most of whom were dying in their seats. Even Brady was leaning against the wall for support. “Okay dokey… bachelor number one?” he turned to Mochrie, who tossed his cigarette on the ground and ground it out with a twist of his shoe.
“Hang on darlin’, this is my number,” he grated, strutting forward and pretending to grasp a pole, riding it with a completely serious face before turning and shaking his ass at the watching students. Cheers and whistles flew as he strutted, pretending to remove articles of clothing along the way.
Ryan watched, stuck somewhere between amused and aroused as Mochrie stopped right in front of him, shaking that tempting butt right in his face. He reached for it without thinking, making Mochrie jump and turn. Ryan blushed and tried to cover it up. “Right! You are lacking in the serious discipline that my proper training will give you! First of all, you do not ride the gun! You shoot people with it!” he cried.
Mochrie switched back into his junky old stripper. “That may be how you do it from… well… wherever the hell you’re from,” Ryan scowled at him, eyes twinkling with a smile, “but this is my club and here we ride ‘em!”
Brad leapt to his feet in the middle of them.
“You’re no exception to the rule,
I’m irresistible you fool,
Give in!”
“Alright already!” Proops cried, waving for them to settle back down.
When they were, Ryan kept sneaking glances over at Mochrie, feeling a little fuzzy and very, very jazzed at his performance.
“Well Proops,” Drew chuckled from his seat in the front row, “I know it’s gonna be tough.”
“Shah!” Proops chuckled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Have fun guessing who they are!” Drew winked brightly.
“Oh I will Carey,” Proops grinned at him before turning his attentions to the men onstage, “Bachelor number one, you are a scuzzy, old stripper lady who likes to have a lot of downtime?”
Everyone cheered.
“Bachelor number two…” he frowned at Brad, who was giggling maniacally. “You perplex me. Uh, are you a secretary who wants to be in Damn Yankees?”
“Close!” Drew shouted.
“You want to get out of your job as a secretary and perform in famous musicals? You’re a drag queen?”
“Close enough!” Drew shouted, making everyone laugh and Brad shake his fist threateningly at the stocky boy. “He was a Disgruntled Postal Worker who wanted to perform in Bob Fosse musicals,” Drew explained.
“How could I not get that?” Proops rolled his eyes before turning to Ryan. Ryan grinned widely, running his hands through his hair. “And you… you are John Cleese in the Defense Against Fresh Fruit sketch!”
“No!” Drew crowed
“I’m assuming you work in the British Army, you’re a British Army sergeant!”
“Yes that’s right!”
Proops punched the air and took a bow just as the bell rang. “Thank you boys for playing with us, see you next Tuesday!” he called, walking over and speaking in amused tones with Mochrie.
Ryan wondered about that as he rose to collect his things, which were thankfully still there. He went over the game. It. Was. Fun.
He’d never had so much fun! This Improv had taken all of his expectations and blown them out of the water! Especially when Mochrie shook that sweet ass in his face. Ryan felt a slight blush steal across his cheeks, fingertips buzzing remembering the feel of Mochrie’s slacks under his hands. “Hey Ry!” Drew shouted, pulling his attention back to reality. He went over to stand with Drew who was chatting idly with Proops and Mochrie.
“What’s up?”
“They’re gonna let me be the host for when we go onstage!” Drew said excitedly.
“Great, now we don’t have to see you fucking up on stage,” Ryan smirked. Drew socked him in the shoulder but chuckled anyway.
The teachers chuckled. “That was an interesting army tactic earlier, Ry guy.” Proops’ eyes glittered from behind his glasses.
Ryan frowned in confusion until Mochrie spoke up. “When you grabbed my butt.”
Ryan blushed, “Yeah, about that,” he rubbed the back of his neck searching for words but Mochrie’s warm hand on his sleeve, once again invading the safety zone, stopped him.
“It’s okay Ryan, I didn’t mind. Sometimes comedy can get quite physical,” he smiled, the dimples deep in his cheeks as his eyes lit up. Ryan smiled goofily, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading through his groin again. He really wanted to kiss him again, especially when those pouty lips were so near and sooo damn tempting. It didn’t matter anymore, he decided leaning closer to Mochrie, that he was a criminal and the man wasn’t, that he was a teacher and Ryan was a student. Besides, Mochrie looked like the kind of guy who liked bad boys, and Ryan definitely wanted to be his bad boy.
Mochrie blinked up at him, their lips barely inches apart. “Ryan?”
Ryan blinked, realizing he was just about to kiss his teacher in front of his best friend and his other teacher. “This physical enough for you?” he grinned suddenly.
The tension dissipated immediately, and everyone laughed as Ryan pulled back with a smile. For a second he thought he saw a flash of disappointment dancing through Mochrie’s eyes but it was gone before he could be sure.
“Off to class with you two,” Proops shooed them, “Colin and I have stuff to talk about!”
“Yeah sure, you’re probably gonna fuck each other’s brains out!” Drew chuckled, heading off the stage.
“Nah, we’ll wait for you to get back later tonight,” Proops grinned back at him. “Go on, screw off!” he snarked at their retreating backs.
Once outside and on their way to the next class, Drew kept up a nonstop babble of how cool it was to be the host, how much power he’d have over the guys, how cool Proops and Mochrie were to let him do this. Ryan wasn’t listening.
He was thinking of a man named Colin.
Even the name tasted good.
He glanced around quickly, patting his pockets. “Hey Drew, I think I left something back in the auditorium. Catch you later?”
“Yeah, sure whatever,” Drew called to Ryan’s already retreating back.
“Know which way Stiles was headed?”
Colin grinned and waved in the general direction of the door. “I think he was headed for his next class…”
“Right.” Greg bounced down the steps of the stage and sashayed down the aisle of the auditorium. “This is so great, Colin! Somebody ought to make a TV show out of it!” Whistling a jaunty tune he burst through the double doors and all fell silent.
Colin stood on the stage for a moment with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, reliving the class. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time, and it felt damned good. With a grin on his face and his hands tucked in his pockets he headed backstage to completely secure the facility.
With all the doors locked and the spots off, the room lay in echoing darkness, lit only dimly by the exit signs and the tiny telltales in the floor that marked the edges of the aisle. Heading toward the doors he heard a noise, a soft skritch, and was momentarily dazzled by the flare of a match. A face, highlighted spectrally, startled him so badly he actually stepped back, ready to run, when he realized it was Ryan leaning against the doorjamb.
“Y- you aren’t supposed to be here now,” he said, a bit more sharply than he would have liked. To himself he could admit he was just a little unnerved by being alone in the dark with the tall boy.
“Yeah.” Ryan lit his cigarette, taking a deep drag. “I know.” Colin made to move around him for the door and Ryan stopped him by the simple expedient of sticking his arm in the way. “I just wanted to tell you you would have made a hell of a stripper.”
Colin cocked his head at the boy, his eyes finally adjusting to the lack of light, beginning to pick up details. “And how much could you know about that? You’re, what, sixteen?” he challenged.
“Eighteen come April.” He looked at Colin through the swirling smoke and darkness. “I worked in a strip joint for awhile after I dropped out.”
“They hired you at that age?” Colin sounded a little upset at the idea. Ryan dropped his cigarette and ground it under his shoe.
“I lied about my age,” he said softly. “You got the pole thing just right, but you really need to work on the turn.” He reached out and hesitantly brushed his fingers across the man’s cheek.
Colin stood, mesmerized. “I… I’ll work on it. Thanks.” He swallowed hard. “Was that all you wanted?” he whispered.
Ryan watched in fascination as Colin’s eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. “Yeah, I…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “No, that’s not all.” Leaning across the short distance between them, he leaned down and kissed him softly, afraid to spook him again. This kiss was sweeter than the first, and he deepened it, asking and receiving admittance to taste and be tasted. A soft moan went up between them, and neither could have said for sure from which of them it came. After a long moment they surfaced for air. Ryan waited for Colin to run, hoping he wouldn’t.
Colin’s mind was a whirlwind of need, desire, and the warning voices of an old betrayal trying to surface. With an act of will he shut off all the rioting thoughts and closed the remaining space between them, pinning Ryan against the door and kissing him fiercely, almost painfully. Ryan wrapped his arms around him, returning the heat in the kiss with his own burning need. Their hands began to roam, Ryan’s fingers twining in that hair, so silky to the touch. Colin’s hands slowly found their way down Ryan’s sides, sliding around to the small of his back. One slid even lower, cupping a cheek, pulling them closer still. Both were hard, erections meeting through their clothing, and Colin groaned deep into Ryan’s eager mouth as they ground themselves into each other.
Unable to think clearly, wanting so much more, Ryan reached between them, palming Colin hard through his trousers. A long finger traced low, drawing a heated line across his balls. Colin groaned again, both hands digging into the bones of Ryan’s hips, riding that delicious friction Ryan was giving him. Pulling on the shirt tucked into Colin’s belt with his free hand, Ryan reached for the heated flesh underneath. Tracing the top of that belt, he found the buckle and worked at easing it from its place.
His fingers meeting at the center seam of Ryan’s jeans, Colin pressed deeper, kneading hard where those endless legs met the inner curve of his ass. He couldn’t think, all he could do was feel. The sweetness of Ryan’s mouth on his threatening to devour him whole, that beautiful body grinding into him under his fingers, those elegant hands, so like… his…
With a sudden gasp Colin froze, then jerked free of Ryan’s arms. With a hand to his own lips he staggered back a step, panting, and stared up at Ryan, his eyes wide with an inner conflict Ryan could see even in the near complete darkness. He closed his eyes and swayed slightly, his body taught and shaking with suppressed emotion. Ryan reached to steady his arm, afraid the man was going to faint. “Colin?” he said softly.
Colin gripped his arm so tightly Ryan was sure he’d have bruises later. His eyes flew open, gazing up at Ryan in shock. “Oh… god…” he whispered, “I can’t…” He bolted out the door, walking quickly down the hall.
“Hey Col, are you sure-” Greg began as Colin, pale and disheveled, brushed quickly past him and kept going. Greg blinked and cocked his head, his eyes narrowed in concern. “Colin, are you okay?” he called after the retreating figure. Colin raised a hand in acknowledgement and kept going. Greg, confused, turned to look at the slowly closing door. It wasn’t locked, and since he’d been here, Greg had never known Colin to miss locking up when he should. Ryan’s head popped through the doorway and the two stared at each other, then turned as one to watch as Colin disappeared into his classroom at the far end of the hallway. “Okay, Stiles, what did you do?”
“I…” He looked down, then focused on Greg once more and sighed. “Nothing,” he said, genuine regret in his eyes.
“ ‘Nothing’, huh?” He looked Ryan up and down, taking in the flushed face, bruised lips and seriously tented jeans. Ryan stared back, daring him to say anything about it. Greg never could resist that kind of challenge, even when he knew he probably should. He cocked an eyebrow at the boy. “Well. Looks like my kind of ‘nothing’, if you know what I mean.” He grinned, completely unrepentant, in the face of Ryan’s hard stare.
“I think some people should mind their own god damned business, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah?” Greg replied, the grin fading. “Well, when some people carry on their business practically in the hallway, that could get some other people fired if you know what I mean.”
Ryan looked startled, the hard stare disappearing. “Get serious! I mean, Jesus, the age of consent here is twelve years old for fuck’s sake! Why would he- Why would someone get fired-”
Greg heard voices coming down the hall, and not wanting to continue the conversation where others might hear, he shoved Ryan back into the auditorium closing the door behind them. “Ryan, what are you?”
Ryan stilled, reminding Greg of nothing so much as a snake waiting to strike. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice careful.
“I mean you’re here, in a correctional facility. What are you?”
Ryan relaxed a fraction. “An… inmate, a convicted felon, and he’s…”
Greg nodded. “He’s part of the staff of that correctional facility. He’s also a teacher and you are one of his students. And yeah, I know,” he held up a hand as Ryan opened his mouth to protest, “it happens all the fuckin’ time. Which doesn’t mean the reality isn’t still there.” He eyed Ryan again. “Or is that what you’re after?”
“Huh?” Greg said nothing, waiting, and it dawned on Ryan what he was asking. “No! No, I’m not trying to fuck him over like that-”
Glancing pointedly down Greg smirked again, unable to resist. “No, just trying to fuck him, huh?”
“I… uh…” Ryan hesitated, then scrubbed a hand through his hair and nodded, chuckling sheepishly, as the object of their attention wilting significantly.
“Yeah. Me too.” At Ryan’s shocked look Greg shrugged. “What can I say? Older I may be,” Ryan snorted and Greg glared at him, “not that much older than you, you asshole - but I’m not dead. He’s fuckin’…”
“Beautiful.”
Greg stared at Ryan a moment. “Yeah,” he said softly. Ryan flipped his hands through his hair, settling it more or less back where it was supposed to be and straightened his clothing around as Greg opened the auditorium door and ushered Ryan through, carefully locking it again behind them. “Come on, let’s get you back with the others before they come looking for you. I think,” he said as they headed down the hallway, “we need to compare notes on the so far unsuccessful stalking of the elusive, balding, gray-coated science geek.”
Colin reached the sanctuary of his classroom and headed straight for the bathroom. Slamming the door shut he locked it and set his back to it. God, he thought, I can’t believe I did that! Rapping the back of his head repeatedly on the door, he strangled back a groan. Why? Why did he keep putting himself in a position where someone- hell, anyone- might get the wrong idea and…
He looked at his reflection in the glass over the sink. He bit his lip and shook his head at the sweating, flushed mess in the mirror. At least be honest with yourself, he thought sternly. You could have walked away at any time, and don’t blame the boy, either. You pounced on him. If you hadn’t stopped when you did, that ‘someone’ wouldn’t be getting the wrong idea… He groaned again.
Pushing away from the door he slipped his jacket off and hung it on the hook and rolled up his sleeves. Spinning the faucet to cold, he ran the water for a long moment, then splashed it on his face again and again, finally resorting to sticking his head in the sink and letting the frigid water flow across the back of it. Other, less reachable parts of his body finally calmed once he felt his ears were going to get frostbite.
He shut off the water and reached for the towel. Drying his head off and dabbing at his face, he peered at himself across the top of his hands and took a deep breathe to calm himself. “What’s going on?” he asked the mirror, staring at the wide eyes looking back at him.
That night he readied for bed thinking about it again, trying to order his thoughts. He took out the memory of the conversation and his actions. Unbidden, the feeling of Ryan’s hands on his body and of his hands on Ryan flooded back and he was left gasping, gripping the counter with white knuckles. His erection sprang back full force, aching in its intensity. Looking down at it with exasperation he asked, “Why can’t you pick on someone your own age? Or at least someone you won’t get arrested or fired over?”
For: Sungreen70
Rated: R again for language and some serious kiss-age
Pairing: Ry/ Col
Summary: The guys play a game and Colin tries to stop playing hard to get
Disclaimer: What is it with me and Jack Poo?
Chapter 4
Ryan really didn’t want to be here today. He wasn’t interested in improv. He wanted to learn stand up comedy because that’s where it was at. Improv was a complete waste of time and he knew it. That and his dark outlook on it was basically because it was his turn to go onstage with Mochrie, Proops and Brad.
He scowled at the watching guys as he sat on the third stool next to Brad, who was wisely sitting between him and Mochrie.
The tension between the two was skyrocketing, but Mochrie was so courteous to him Ryan couldn’t bring himself to say anything nasty to him.
“Okay my fellows,” Proops shouted, waving his hands about frantically, sounding like a televangelist. Everyone chuckled lightly. “We are going to play a game with two of your very own called ‘Let’s Make a Date’-” a few wolf whistles. Ryan glared at them. They shut up quickly. “Here we have three bachelors who are going to be given, hopefully, a comedy laced suggestion on how to behave or answer the questions I put to them. I’ll leave and stand outside and Mochrie will have you all shout out suggestions as to what these fine gentlemen should be,” he bowed and trotted offstage and Mochrie rose gracefully to his feet.
Ryan found himself staring at the snugly fitted seat of Mochrie’s slacks, a small smirk on his face when Brad elbowed him in the ribs. “Okay class, now I want a suggestion as to what Mr. Sherwood should be.”
“A raccoon!”
“Oh come on, you can do better than that,” Mochrie sighed.
“A horse menstruating in the desert!”
“Bob Fosse!”
“A disgruntled postal worker!”
“My narcoleptic uncle!”
“Okay, okay,” Mochrie smiled, “How about a Postal Worker who is training to be in a Bob Fosse musical?” Everyone roared approval.
Brad looked at the crowd, looking severely disgruntled. “Who the Hell is Bob Fosse?”
“He was a choreographer from Kiss Me Kate, and Damn Yankees.”
“Okay, I know who that is,” Brad rolled his eyes, wincing at things to come.
“Now who should Mr. Stiles be?”
“Tiny Tim!”
“Richard Nixon!”
“The Lenny Bruce version of the Lone Ranger!”
“A British Army drill sergeant!”
“That’s it,” Mochrie pointed at one smug looking kid. “Mr. Stiles, you are a verbally abusive British Army Drill Sergeant trying to whip the boys into shape.”
Ryan blinked at him, his face alone making the audience roar with laughter.
“Okay gentlemen, now what should I be?” Mochrie asked, putting his game face on for the tirade of offensive suggestions. There were very few, if any.
“A defecting Russian ballet dancer!”
“All of the Village People!” Mochrie grinned, scratching his nose lightly.
“Warden Weiz!” A few people made the ‘ooooo’ sounds, exchanging dark chuckles.
“A pantomime horse!”
“A stripper!”
Mochrie looked down, eyes narrowed slightly even as a smile tugged at his lips, at Jeff, who was sitting with his chin resting on Chip’s shoulder. He just smiled happily as Mochrie rolled his eyes. Even Ryan was grinning. “Fine, I’ll be a stripper.”
Everyone cheered.
“Officer Brady, would you kindly bring Greg in?” Brady nodded, knocking on the door, his bright white grin contrasting his dark skin as he smiled widely. “Remember, he isn’t supposed to know, so no giving it away.” Mochrie hastened to remind the students.
They nodded, intent on the action as Proops hopped back onstage. “Okay so what are they?” Proops asked the audience. Their lips were sealed. “Eh, fuck you guys.” Everyone laughed. Perching on the stool he began. “Bachelor number one!” His voice went higher and more nasal than usual. Mochrie slouched, glancing him up and down critically with an imaginary cigarette dangling from his crooked fingers. Ryan almost wondered how often the man had been in a strip club, he’d slipped into character so easily. “I enjoy all sorts of rough physical activities.” Someone barked out a laugh, making Proops cast a glance their way. “What do you like to do on your down time?”
“Well,” Mochrie’s voice was ragged, “most of my down time is spent going down.” He flushed slightly at the wolf whistles. “But when you work in a joint like this most of your time is spent on a table.” Mochrie took a drag on his cigarette, slumping in his chair. Ryan pressed his lips tightly together to keep from laughing. He could feel Brad next to him shaking with barely contained giggles.
“Alrighty then, I’ll be coming back to you later,” Proops smiled brightly. “Bachelor Number two, hey!” he waved.
Brad pretended to be sorting and filing mail at a rapid pace, twitching his head now and then. “Can’t talk to you now, these were all miss filed and/ or sent back!” His voice was slightly panicked but Ryan couldn’t tell if that was stage fright or just his character. Brad wasn’t bad.
“Uhm I’m sorry. Bachelor number two, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“What did I want to do?! Not this, I can tell you that! You know, I can’t take this anymore!” Brad shouted suddenly, jumping to his feet. “All this stamp licking has made me gain so much weight! I never wanted to work here,” he cried.
“Well what did you want to do?”
“You want to know? Well, actually I can’t tell you ‘cause that would ruin the game,” he mumbled. making some people chuckle. “Here’s my audition though,” he cleared his throat.
“Whatever Lola wants,
Lola gets,
And little man, little Lola wants you…”
“Bachelor number two you have a lovely singing voice! Just don’t quit your day job.” Brad blushed, holding back a smirk as the audience heckled him. “Bachelor number three?” Proops smirked. “Bachelor number three! When I was a child growing up in the burbs of Arizona, I used to sell spiked lemonade to the girls down the street. What pranks did you used to do?”
Ryan sighed, collecting his thought. Go time. “What kind of question is that?!” he roared, standing up and straightening to his full height. “Cor, what you need mate- sorry is that Australian?” he looked frantically at the floor, collecting his thoughts, “What you lot need is discipline! ‘Ere you will the learn the discipline and training needed to successfully subdue and conquer an enemy! Sorry! I spit on you!” Ryan shouted at a poor boy sitting right in front of him who was currently wiping his face and laughing so hard his face was red.
Proops shared a glance with the audience, most of whom were dying in their seats. Even Brady was leaning against the wall for support. “Okay dokey… bachelor number one?” he turned to Mochrie, who tossed his cigarette on the ground and ground it out with a twist of his shoe.
“Hang on darlin’, this is my number,” he grated, strutting forward and pretending to grasp a pole, riding it with a completely serious face before turning and shaking his ass at the watching students. Cheers and whistles flew as he strutted, pretending to remove articles of clothing along the way.
Ryan watched, stuck somewhere between amused and aroused as Mochrie stopped right in front of him, shaking that tempting butt right in his face. He reached for it without thinking, making Mochrie jump and turn. Ryan blushed and tried to cover it up. “Right! You are lacking in the serious discipline that my proper training will give you! First of all, you do not ride the gun! You shoot people with it!” he cried.
Mochrie switched back into his junky old stripper. “That may be how you do it from… well… wherever the hell you’re from,” Ryan scowled at him, eyes twinkling with a smile, “but this is my club and here we ride ‘em!”
Brad leapt to his feet in the middle of them.
“You’re no exception to the rule,
I’m irresistible you fool,
Give in!”
“Alright already!” Proops cried, waving for them to settle back down.
When they were, Ryan kept sneaking glances over at Mochrie, feeling a little fuzzy and very, very jazzed at his performance.
“Well Proops,” Drew chuckled from his seat in the front row, “I know it’s gonna be tough.”
“Shah!” Proops chuckled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Have fun guessing who they are!” Drew winked brightly.
“Oh I will Carey,” Proops grinned at him before turning his attentions to the men onstage, “Bachelor number one, you are a scuzzy, old stripper lady who likes to have a lot of downtime?”
Everyone cheered.
“Bachelor number two…” he frowned at Brad, who was giggling maniacally. “You perplex me. Uh, are you a secretary who wants to be in Damn Yankees?”
“Close!” Drew shouted.
“You want to get out of your job as a secretary and perform in famous musicals? You’re a drag queen?”
“Close enough!” Drew shouted, making everyone laugh and Brad shake his fist threateningly at the stocky boy. “He was a Disgruntled Postal Worker who wanted to perform in Bob Fosse musicals,” Drew explained.
“How could I not get that?” Proops rolled his eyes before turning to Ryan. Ryan grinned widely, running his hands through his hair. “And you… you are John Cleese in the Defense Against Fresh Fruit sketch!”
“No!” Drew crowed
“I’m assuming you work in the British Army, you’re a British Army sergeant!”
“Yes that’s right!”
Proops punched the air and took a bow just as the bell rang. “Thank you boys for playing with us, see you next Tuesday!” he called, walking over and speaking in amused tones with Mochrie.
Ryan wondered about that as he rose to collect his things, which were thankfully still there. He went over the game. It. Was. Fun.
He’d never had so much fun! This Improv had taken all of his expectations and blown them out of the water! Especially when Mochrie shook that sweet ass in his face. Ryan felt a slight blush steal across his cheeks, fingertips buzzing remembering the feel of Mochrie’s slacks under his hands. “Hey Ry!” Drew shouted, pulling his attention back to reality. He went over to stand with Drew who was chatting idly with Proops and Mochrie.
“What’s up?”
“They’re gonna let me be the host for when we go onstage!” Drew said excitedly.
“Great, now we don’t have to see you fucking up on stage,” Ryan smirked. Drew socked him in the shoulder but chuckled anyway.
The teachers chuckled. “That was an interesting army tactic earlier, Ry guy.” Proops’ eyes glittered from behind his glasses.
Ryan frowned in confusion until Mochrie spoke up. “When you grabbed my butt.”
Ryan blushed, “Yeah, about that,” he rubbed the back of his neck searching for words but Mochrie’s warm hand on his sleeve, once again invading the safety zone, stopped him.
“It’s okay Ryan, I didn’t mind. Sometimes comedy can get quite physical,” he smiled, the dimples deep in his cheeks as his eyes lit up. Ryan smiled goofily, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading through his groin again. He really wanted to kiss him again, especially when those pouty lips were so near and sooo damn tempting. It didn’t matter anymore, he decided leaning closer to Mochrie, that he was a criminal and the man wasn’t, that he was a teacher and Ryan was a student. Besides, Mochrie looked like the kind of guy who liked bad boys, and Ryan definitely wanted to be his bad boy.
Mochrie blinked up at him, their lips barely inches apart. “Ryan?”
Ryan blinked, realizing he was just about to kiss his teacher in front of his best friend and his other teacher. “This physical enough for you?” he grinned suddenly.
The tension dissipated immediately, and everyone laughed as Ryan pulled back with a smile. For a second he thought he saw a flash of disappointment dancing through Mochrie’s eyes but it was gone before he could be sure.
“Off to class with you two,” Proops shooed them, “Colin and I have stuff to talk about!”
“Yeah sure, you’re probably gonna fuck each other’s brains out!” Drew chuckled, heading off the stage.
“Nah, we’ll wait for you to get back later tonight,” Proops grinned back at him. “Go on, screw off!” he snarked at their retreating backs.
Once outside and on their way to the next class, Drew kept up a nonstop babble of how cool it was to be the host, how much power he’d have over the guys, how cool Proops and Mochrie were to let him do this. Ryan wasn’t listening.
He was thinking of a man named Colin.
Even the name tasted good.
He glanced around quickly, patting his pockets. “Hey Drew, I think I left something back in the auditorium. Catch you later?”
“Yeah, sure whatever,” Drew called to Ryan’s already retreating back.
“Know which way Stiles was headed?”
Colin grinned and waved in the general direction of the door. “I think he was headed for his next class…”
“Right.” Greg bounced down the steps of the stage and sashayed down the aisle of the auditorium. “This is so great, Colin! Somebody ought to make a TV show out of it!” Whistling a jaunty tune he burst through the double doors and all fell silent.
Colin stood on the stage for a moment with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, reliving the class. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time, and it felt damned good. With a grin on his face and his hands tucked in his pockets he headed backstage to completely secure the facility.
With all the doors locked and the spots off, the room lay in echoing darkness, lit only dimly by the exit signs and the tiny telltales in the floor that marked the edges of the aisle. Heading toward the doors he heard a noise, a soft skritch, and was momentarily dazzled by the flare of a match. A face, highlighted spectrally, startled him so badly he actually stepped back, ready to run, when he realized it was Ryan leaning against the doorjamb.
“Y- you aren’t supposed to be here now,” he said, a bit more sharply than he would have liked. To himself he could admit he was just a little unnerved by being alone in the dark with the tall boy.
“Yeah.” Ryan lit his cigarette, taking a deep drag. “I know.” Colin made to move around him for the door and Ryan stopped him by the simple expedient of sticking his arm in the way. “I just wanted to tell you you would have made a hell of a stripper.”
Colin cocked his head at the boy, his eyes finally adjusting to the lack of light, beginning to pick up details. “And how much could you know about that? You’re, what, sixteen?” he challenged.
“Eighteen come April.” He looked at Colin through the swirling smoke and darkness. “I worked in a strip joint for awhile after I dropped out.”
“They hired you at that age?” Colin sounded a little upset at the idea. Ryan dropped his cigarette and ground it under his shoe.
“I lied about my age,” he said softly. “You got the pole thing just right, but you really need to work on the turn.” He reached out and hesitantly brushed his fingers across the man’s cheek.
Colin stood, mesmerized. “I… I’ll work on it. Thanks.” He swallowed hard. “Was that all you wanted?” he whispered.
Ryan watched in fascination as Colin’s eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. “Yeah, I…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “No, that’s not all.” Leaning across the short distance between them, he leaned down and kissed him softly, afraid to spook him again. This kiss was sweeter than the first, and he deepened it, asking and receiving admittance to taste and be tasted. A soft moan went up between them, and neither could have said for sure from which of them it came. After a long moment they surfaced for air. Ryan waited for Colin to run, hoping he wouldn’t.
Colin’s mind was a whirlwind of need, desire, and the warning voices of an old betrayal trying to surface. With an act of will he shut off all the rioting thoughts and closed the remaining space between them, pinning Ryan against the door and kissing him fiercely, almost painfully. Ryan wrapped his arms around him, returning the heat in the kiss with his own burning need. Their hands began to roam, Ryan’s fingers twining in that hair, so silky to the touch. Colin’s hands slowly found their way down Ryan’s sides, sliding around to the small of his back. One slid even lower, cupping a cheek, pulling them closer still. Both were hard, erections meeting through their clothing, and Colin groaned deep into Ryan’s eager mouth as they ground themselves into each other.
Unable to think clearly, wanting so much more, Ryan reached between them, palming Colin hard through his trousers. A long finger traced low, drawing a heated line across his balls. Colin groaned again, both hands digging into the bones of Ryan’s hips, riding that delicious friction Ryan was giving him. Pulling on the shirt tucked into Colin’s belt with his free hand, Ryan reached for the heated flesh underneath. Tracing the top of that belt, he found the buckle and worked at easing it from its place.
His fingers meeting at the center seam of Ryan’s jeans, Colin pressed deeper, kneading hard where those endless legs met the inner curve of his ass. He couldn’t think, all he could do was feel. The sweetness of Ryan’s mouth on his threatening to devour him whole, that beautiful body grinding into him under his fingers, those elegant hands, so like… his…
With a sudden gasp Colin froze, then jerked free of Ryan’s arms. With a hand to his own lips he staggered back a step, panting, and stared up at Ryan, his eyes wide with an inner conflict Ryan could see even in the near complete darkness. He closed his eyes and swayed slightly, his body taught and shaking with suppressed emotion. Ryan reached to steady his arm, afraid the man was going to faint. “Colin?” he said softly.
Colin gripped his arm so tightly Ryan was sure he’d have bruises later. His eyes flew open, gazing up at Ryan in shock. “Oh… god…” he whispered, “I can’t…” He bolted out the door, walking quickly down the hall.
“Hey Col, are you sure-” Greg began as Colin, pale and disheveled, brushed quickly past him and kept going. Greg blinked and cocked his head, his eyes narrowed in concern. “Colin, are you okay?” he called after the retreating figure. Colin raised a hand in acknowledgement and kept going. Greg, confused, turned to look at the slowly closing door. It wasn’t locked, and since he’d been here, Greg had never known Colin to miss locking up when he should. Ryan’s head popped through the doorway and the two stared at each other, then turned as one to watch as Colin disappeared into his classroom at the far end of the hallway. “Okay, Stiles, what did you do?”
“I…” He looked down, then focused on Greg once more and sighed. “Nothing,” he said, genuine regret in his eyes.
“ ‘Nothing’, huh?” He looked Ryan up and down, taking in the flushed face, bruised lips and seriously tented jeans. Ryan stared back, daring him to say anything about it. Greg never could resist that kind of challenge, even when he knew he probably should. He cocked an eyebrow at the boy. “Well. Looks like my kind of ‘nothing’, if you know what I mean.” He grinned, completely unrepentant, in the face of Ryan’s hard stare.
“I think some people should mind their own god damned business, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah?” Greg replied, the grin fading. “Well, when some people carry on their business practically in the hallway, that could get some other people fired if you know what I mean.”
Ryan looked startled, the hard stare disappearing. “Get serious! I mean, Jesus, the age of consent here is twelve years old for fuck’s sake! Why would he- Why would someone get fired-”
Greg heard voices coming down the hall, and not wanting to continue the conversation where others might hear, he shoved Ryan back into the auditorium closing the door behind them. “Ryan, what are you?”
Ryan stilled, reminding Greg of nothing so much as a snake waiting to strike. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice careful.
“I mean you’re here, in a correctional facility. What are you?”
Ryan relaxed a fraction. “An… inmate, a convicted felon, and he’s…”
Greg nodded. “He’s part of the staff of that correctional facility. He’s also a teacher and you are one of his students. And yeah, I know,” he held up a hand as Ryan opened his mouth to protest, “it happens all the fuckin’ time. Which doesn’t mean the reality isn’t still there.” He eyed Ryan again. “Or is that what you’re after?”
“Huh?” Greg said nothing, waiting, and it dawned on Ryan what he was asking. “No! No, I’m not trying to fuck him over like that-”
Glancing pointedly down Greg smirked again, unable to resist. “No, just trying to fuck him, huh?”
“I… uh…” Ryan hesitated, then scrubbed a hand through his hair and nodded, chuckling sheepishly, as the object of their attention wilting significantly.
“Yeah. Me too.” At Ryan’s shocked look Greg shrugged. “What can I say? Older I may be,” Ryan snorted and Greg glared at him, “not that much older than you, you asshole - but I’m not dead. He’s fuckin’…”
“Beautiful.”
Greg stared at Ryan a moment. “Yeah,” he said softly. Ryan flipped his hands through his hair, settling it more or less back where it was supposed to be and straightened his clothing around as Greg opened the auditorium door and ushered Ryan through, carefully locking it again behind them. “Come on, let’s get you back with the others before they come looking for you. I think,” he said as they headed down the hallway, “we need to compare notes on the so far unsuccessful stalking of the elusive, balding, gray-coated science geek.”
Colin reached the sanctuary of his classroom and headed straight for the bathroom. Slamming the door shut he locked it and set his back to it. God, he thought, I can’t believe I did that! Rapping the back of his head repeatedly on the door, he strangled back a groan. Why? Why did he keep putting himself in a position where someone- hell, anyone- might get the wrong idea and…
He looked at his reflection in the glass over the sink. He bit his lip and shook his head at the sweating, flushed mess in the mirror. At least be honest with yourself, he thought sternly. You could have walked away at any time, and don’t blame the boy, either. You pounced on him. If you hadn’t stopped when you did, that ‘someone’ wouldn’t be getting the wrong idea… He groaned again.
Pushing away from the door he slipped his jacket off and hung it on the hook and rolled up his sleeves. Spinning the faucet to cold, he ran the water for a long moment, then splashed it on his face again and again, finally resorting to sticking his head in the sink and letting the frigid water flow across the back of it. Other, less reachable parts of his body finally calmed once he felt his ears were going to get frostbite.
He shut off the water and reached for the towel. Drying his head off and dabbing at his face, he peered at himself across the top of his hands and took a deep breathe to calm himself. “What’s going on?” he asked the mirror, staring at the wide eyes looking back at him.
That night he readied for bed thinking about it again, trying to order his thoughts. He took out the memory of the conversation and his actions. Unbidden, the feeling of Ryan’s hands on his body and of his hands on Ryan flooded back and he was left gasping, gripping the counter with white knuckles. His erection sprang back full force, aching in its intensity. Looking down at it with exasperation he asked, “Why can’t you pick on someone your own age? Or at least someone you won’t get arrested or fired over?”
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Date: 2007-09-13 02:00 am (UTC)"How to defend yourself when someone attacks you with a bah-nah-nah."
"We did that!"
Fresh fruit...blackberries
Date: 2007-09-13 03:08 am (UTC)Re: Fresh fruit...blackberries
Date: 2007-09-13 03:12 am (UTC)*snicker*
could do this all day *laughs*
Date: 2007-09-13 03:21 am (UTC)"Shat up!"
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 03:28 am (UTC)No one can resist Colin's 'cuteness' and his lovely dimples! Well, certainly not me! ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 06:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-13 01:27 pm (UTC)"Brad looked at the crowd, looking severely disgruntled. “Who the Hell is Bob Fosse?”
“He was a choreographer from Kiss Me Kate, and Damn Yankees.”
“Okay, I know who that is,” Brad rolled his eyes, wincing at things to come."
*snicker* He didn't want to admit he knew who Fosse was? Sweet - especially when he chose Lola.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-14 06:09 am (UTC)