[FIC] FEEL ME 12/?

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

Happy Monday, people!  In today's episode, we have no sex, no drugs, yes Greg.  Though there isn't any sex, perse, there is a teeny tiny boot of foot-play, and if something like that skeeves you, like it does a good friend of mine, feel free to skip this chapter. I won't be offended.

TTLE:  Feel Me
PART:  12/?
PAIRING:  Mochrie/Stiles and friends!
RATING:  NC-17 for mansmut, none in this chapter
DISCLAIMER:  FICTION. Don't own, don't sue, don't stand so close to me!
SUMMARY:  Whores and gamblin', whores and gamblin that's Ne-vAAAAAAA-da!  And I know that Wet and Wild is closed down.  We're playing 'pretend'.

The next two days passed rather quickly, and were actually kind of fun.  Greg had suggested visiting the local water park, bored with watching strippers poolside and not particularly wanting to casino hop again.  After a moment of thought, I agreed, and, surprisingly, so did Ryan, which was especially enjoyable for me since, aside from lovemaking and brief spates of conversation, we’d spent very little social time together.  Don’t get me wrong.  Sex and Ryan go together like…well….sex and Ryan, but I missed my best friend, too, and was glad to spend some time outside the bedroom with him.

 

Visiting a water park with Ryan and Greg was much different than the few times my son had convinced me to take him.  Then, I’d done the ‘adult thing’ and lazed around in the sun while he took on all the slides and body surfed in the wave pool until I feared his skin would begin sloughing off.

 

This time, however, it was expected that I would be a full participant in the fun and games to be had, and I did my best to be a trouper, putting on my game face and taking up every challenge issued.  The two-person slides were, I’ll freely admit, the most fun, though Ryan and I had to take the tubes lying down as we were taller than most, and I spent some time trying to will down my natural reaction to having him between my legs and lying flat against me as we took the twists and turns of the slides.  The ice cold water we were dumped into helped a great deal, thank goodness.

 

We walked around a bit and came to what were termed ‘racing slides’.  I’m sure you know the ones I’m talking about; the slides that start in the clouds and plunge straight down, leaving your stomach somewhere in the area of  your tonsils, your heart fluttering around like a wounded bird, your testicles trying to crawl back home, and your brain wondering if maybe it would be a good idea to bring a parachute along.  Or maybe some really good tranquilizers.  The slides were side by side, and the object was, as is probably pretty obvious, for two sliders to race to the bottom.

 

When we stopped before them, Ryan turned to me with a look that exactly mimicked Greg’s of the night before, minus the glasses.  I could see why Greg called them ‘poison’ to one another; it was like being out with twins in some respects. “Race ya.”

 

I thought about demurring, then figured what the heck, I wasn’t planning on forever, anyway.  “Yeah?  What’ll I get when I win?”

 

“Cocky bastard, aren’t you?”

 

I puffed out my chest in pretend pride, fists planted squarely on my hips.  “So I’ve been told, yes.”

 

That earned me a slap to the belly which practically drove the air from my lungs, definitely making me unpuffed.  “Hey!”

 

“Ok,” he looked around, thinking.  “If, and I use that word loosely, if you win, I…I’ll get up on that table over there and do a hoedown on the topic of your choice.”

 

“In front of everyone?”

 

“In front of everyone.  You can even get Greg to sell tickets if you want.”

 

Ooooooh.  Sometimes in your life, there are opportunities much too good to pass up.  This wasn’t one of them, but it was close enough.  “You’re on.  And, should the impossible happen, what do you get if you win?”

 

Thinking some more, he finally looked down at those huge flippers he calls feet and wiggled his toes.  “You get to kiss these in front of everybody.  With tongue.”

 

“And moaning!” Greg inserted cheerfully.  “Lots of moaning!”

 

“I’d rather kiss your ass,” I muttered.

 

“That’s for later,” he leered.

 

“Oh, a two part prize, is it?”

 

“What’s the matter?  Chicken?”

 

Greg  helpfully supplied the clucking noises, only laughing at my glare.  Perhaps I should ask Santa for intimidation lessons this Christmas.

 

“You wanna race him, troublemaker?” I asked my very unhelpful friend.

 

He held his hands up and stepped back, his once perfectly coiffed hair now soaking wet, stringy and plastered to his head. Made me want a camera; blackmail can be a good thing.  “Oh no.  You two lovebirds just go right on ahead.  I’ll stay down here and referee.”

 

“Yeah,” I scoffed.  “Like that’ll be fair.”

 

“Hey!  I’ll have you know I can be very objective.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Did I or did I not share my stash with you yesterday?”

 

“You did.”

 

“And did I not allow, nay, encourage you to heckle me while I was in the middle of my act?”

 

“Only so you could set a trap for me, you wiener!”

 

“Big wiener,” he corrected.  “Really big.  Hugely big, in fact. Don’t you forget it.”

 

“I’ll…try not to.” I replied drolly.  He flipped me the bird.  I flipped it right back. 

 

“C’mon, man,” Ryan interrupted, as impatient as ever, “are we gonna race or what?”

 

“Fine!” I said, flapping my arm.  “Let’s get this over with.  You’d better be practicing your hoedown by the time you get to the bottom, cause I’m going to be expecting it the minute you get out of the pool.”

 

“Yeah, well you just worry about making sure your tongue’s clean.  I don’t want these pristine beauties ruined by your germs.”

 

“You don’t seem to mind it when I’m kissing your—.”

 

“BEEEEEEP!” Greg quipped, and we all had to laugh.

 

Shaking my head, I finally grabbed Ryan’s forearm and tugged.  “C’mon, let’s see how many of those stairs we can climb before we start needing oxygen tanks.”

 

Greg cheerfully twiddled his fingers at us as we started for the stairs, lumbering like dinosaurs through the knots of lithe, tanned and altogether too young teenagers who stared at us like we were dinosaurs.

 

“They really should invest in some elevators,” I muttered as we reached the fifth landing and had at least five more to go.

 

Ryan smirked back at me, more than a little winded himself.  “Tried already, gramps?”

 

“You know,” I replied after pretending to think about it, “I think I am.  Too bad you’re so keen on racing me.  I think maybe by the time I’m through here, I won’t have the energy left for any horizontal activities you might have had planned for later in the evening.”  So saying, I grabbed my hip and pretended to hobble up the next set of stairs.

 

He stared at me, eyes widening.  “We…could climb back down….”

 

“No, no,” I replied, airily.  “We’re almost halfway there.  I don’t think my poor, feeble, geriatric body could possibly handle that long climb back down.  Or much of anything else, really.”  Shaking my head, I huffed out a sad sigh as I passed him on the stairway and continued the climb.

 

I knew he knew I was joking.  I also knew he wasn’t sure how much.  Oh, not about the age thing, of course.  We’re only six months apart, after all, and I’d like to think that despite the color of my hair—and the lack thereof—I’ve kept rather nimble in my dotage. But to be too tired for bedroom escapades was sure to get Ryan where it hurt the most—literally. 

 

So I pretended to hobble as I continued upwards, sliding against the rail when the occasional lithe teen sprinted past.  When we finally reached the top, I picked the left slide and he was left with the right.  A young woman with ebony hair and the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen in my life was the attendant on Ryan’s slide.  Though he was more than twice her age, he couldn’t help but flirt with her; flirting to Ryan is as natural and unconscious as breathing is to the rest of us mere mortals.  “Don’t tell me I’m too…short…to ride this,” he said in a deep, smooth voice that would have sounded smarmy on anyone else save, perhaps, Barry White. 

 

Those beautiful eyes roamed his body, taking note of all the ways in which he was most definitely not ‘short’ and a very becoming tinge of rose bloomed on her cheeks. 

 

“Too young, then?” he asked sweetly when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to answer.

 

“Ryan,” I mock-scolded, “how about letting her do her job, hmm?”

 

He shot me a sideways, flinty glance, but deliberately relaxed, changing his whole affect completely and instantly, something he’s an absolute expert at.  “Okay, what do I have to do?”

 

The young woman smiled a ‘thank you’ at me, and I nodded in return.  She looked back at Ryan.  “Lie down flat on your back with your feet up against the gate.  Cross your arms over your chest and your legs at the ankles.  When the gate opens, down you go!”

 

“Ryan…” I warned before he could embarrass the poor girl any further.  He curled a lip at me, but complied and followed her instructions, as did I, checking with my own attendant, a young surfer type with tousled hair and a look that told me exactly what he thought of two men our age on this ride at all, let alone having the nerve to flirt with what was undoubtedly his girlfriend.

 

I made sure to give him my toothiest smile.  He flushed and looked away, finger jamming on the button that started the countdown to oblivion.

 

The lights changed from red to green, the gate opened with a loud buzz, and my stomach shot out of my mouth as the rest of my body plummeted down the slide.  Only years of training kept the scream locked in my throat, and all thoughts of our little bet flew out of my head.  I didn’t care whether I won or lost, as long as I arrived at the bottom in one piece.

 

Though it seemed like my entire life flashed before my eyes in those few brief seconds, the adventure was over almost as soon as it had begun, and the water at the bottom was soon shooting up my nose at an alarming rate.  Choking and sputtering, I dragged myself to my feet only to see Ryan turning to me, a smug grin on his face and one foot tilted slyly in my direction.

 

“Great,” I muttered, wiping the water out of my eyes.  “You sure he didn’t cheat?” I asked Greg as I came to stand beside them.

 

“Nope,” he replied, eyes twinkling.  “He won by a nose.”

 

That startled a laugh right out of me, and I grinned at Greg, who winked back and ushered me over to the table, which Ryan had taken over, warm hand resting lightly at the small of my back. 

 

Ryan was sitting primly on the table itself, his one foot square on the bench and the other flapping at me at the end of his crossed leg.  As I looked covertly around, I saw that there were entirely too many people in the vicinity for my comfort, but a bet’s a bet, so I looked down at him with more annoyance than I actually felt.

 

“So, I have to kiss those, huh?”

 

“Don’t forget the tongue!” he chirped.

 

“And the moaning!” Greg added, having more fun with this than the two of us put together.

 

“How could I forget?” I replied drolly, though inside, I was secretly amused.  Because I remembered something about Ryan that he himself had forgotten.  He might have won the bet, but I…I was going to win the war.

 

Carefully grasping his foot by the heel, I planted several dry kisses over the top, from the ankle juncture to the tip of his big toe and back.

 

“I’m not feelin’ it,” he said when I chanced to look up at him.

 

“I’m not hearin’ it either,” Greg parroted.  I resisted the urge to kick him.

 

Saying nothing, I slid his heel forward and repeated the process on the sole, knowing by the sounds that we were beginning to draw a crowd.  Ordinarily this would be a bad thing, but for what I had in mind, it was just perfect.  The only problem was how to go about this without getting myself arrested for lewd acts.  Ah well.  Ryan was rich.  He could pay my bail, if it came to that.

 

So thinking, I raised my gaze again and gave him my sweetest smile.  Ryan’s learned not to trust that one, and I saw a sliver of panic run through his eyes as he tried to tug his foot out of my grip.  I was having none of it. 

 

“Tongue, huh?” I murmured just loudly enough for him to catch.  “If you insist….”

 

Lowering my head back down and using my free hand to conceal what I was doing from the gathering onlookers, I drew my tongue smoothly along his instep—one of the most erogenous zones on his body, and one that he, in his cockiness (pardon the pun) had completely forgotten. 

 

To his credit, he managed to swallow most of the whimper that tried to escape his lips, but I could hear it, and smiled as I licked another long stroke, feeling his foot tremble in my grasp.  The next part was going to be harder to disguise, but I was determined to go through with it, if for nothing other than lesson giving purposes. 

 

Moving slowly up his foot, still cupping my hand around the lower part of my face, I reached his toes and took two of them into my mouth, darting my tongue between them, then giving it a little twist.

 

“Oh, Jesus,” he mumbled, trying harder to yank his foot away, but I had it in a solid grip and wasn’t about to relinquish it.  Instead, I moved over to his big toe and took it into my mouth, treating it exactly as I would a larger part of his body, making sure he realized every nuance of the mimicry. And he did.  Acutely.

 

“Towel,” he gasped to Greg.  “Now.” 

 

As Greg looked around, askance, I looked up, noticing Ryan had placed his hand over his groin in a feeble effort to hide his response to my ministrations.  I chuckled low in my throat.

 

The moan I was waiting for came right then, and I pulled away, smirking in triumph.  “Bet me, will you?” I murmured.  My victory almost turned into a loss as I looked fully at him. His face was deeply flushed, his pupils so dilated that they looked almost black, and I wanted nothing more than to ravish him then and there, audience be damned.  My better sense prevailed, and I stepped away even as Greg was addressing the crowd.

 

“Show’s over, folks.  Be back here in fifteen, when we’ll really give you something to look at!”

 

Then I saw a big, buff, bare chested lifeguard type trying to bull his way through the laughing onlookers, and I grabbed Ryan’s elbow and yanked him from the table.  “Let’s beat it before we wind up in the slammer,” I ordered, using my best 1930’s gangster movie voice. 

 

They followed me with alacrity.

 

When we finally reached the lockers unaccosted, Ryan turned to me.  “I can’t believe you just did that!”

 

“Why?  It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”  Oh, I could play innocent with the best of them. 

 

“Teach me to bet against you.”

 

“You loved it, Stiles,” Greg added, smirking.  “And don’t even try to deny it, man.”  His gaze zeroed in on Ryan’s crotch, where the evidence was still rather plain to see.  “So, you’re a foot guy, huh?” he continued, obviously enjoying the hell out of the situation.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Greg put up his hands.  “No shame in that, man.  I’m into it myself…with the right person, of course.”  He leered at me and nearly earned himself a black eye from the always possessive Ryan.  “Chill, dude. I’m just messin’ around.”

 

“Yeah, well it isn’t funny.”

 

“Of course it is!  You just got your dick in a knot ‘cause your bet backfired on you.”

 

Ryan glowered, but to his credit, he quickly calmed, ducking his head.  Greg was right, and he knew it.  “Let’s just get outta here.”

 

“I’m all for that, man.”

 

And so we went.

 

*******

 

“Oh, thank God!” Drew cried as he spied us walking in through the lobby doors.  “I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere!  Where have you been?”

 

“Playing in the water,” Greg answered.  “What’s up, man?  You look like shit.”

 

Drew raked a hand through his disheveled hair.  “Yeah, well how I look doesn’t matter right now.  I need your help, and you two,” he said, pointing to myself and Greg, “are going to give it to me.  Think of it as repayment for last night’s little stunt.”

 

“What, kissing your ugly mug wasn’t enough?” Greg demanded, hands spread wide.

 

“That was just an appetizer, baby.”

 

I guess I was wrong about Drew forgetting about things after they were over.

 

“Listen, you know about that celebrity golf-poker thing tomorrow, right?”

 

I nodded, Ryan having mentioned it to me earlier.  I also knew, sure as my name is Colin, that I wasn’t going to like what was coming next.  I was right.

 

“Well, welcome to the club, gentlemen, because you’re in it.”

 

“What?!” Greg and I asked, together.

 

“You heard me.  The two guys from Friends dropped out and I entered you in their places.”

 

If that wasn’t irony, I don’t know the meaning of the word.

 

“Don’t worry,” he continued, “I’ve put up your stakes, so you don’t have to shell out any cash.”

 

“That’s…er…nice of you, Drew,” I said, “but I don’t play golf, and I’m not a very good poker player, either.” 

 

Greg nodded.  “What he said.”

 

“Doesn’t matter.  We need bodies to fill the seats, and you’re the big winners.”

 

“I’d rather lick Ryan’s feet.”

 

“Hey!” I said, grinning as I slapped Greg.  Drew just looked confused.

 

“Guys, please.  You’d really be helping me out, and besides, all the proceeds go to charity.”

 

“Which charity?” Greg asked, his eyes very narrow.  I knew that if the R in Republican so much as hinted at coming out of Drew’s mouth, he was going to be gone like a cool breeze.

 

“The International Children’s Fund.”

 

I sighed.  He knew just where to get me.  Children’s charities are a weakness of mine, and I never pass up an opportunity to help if I can.  I rubbed at my eyes.  “I know I’m gonna regret this, but…I’m in.”

 

“Greg?”

 

It was Greg’s turn to sigh.  “Oh, alright.  If Baldy over here can do it, so can I.”

 

“Great!”

 

“Just don’t put me at Ryan’s table,” I warned.  “I’ll be out within a hand.”  I have a pretty darn good poker face, but he knows all my ‘tells’. 

 

“Alright, I’ll make sure you’re at different tables, at least to start, but I’ve paired you with him for the golf thing.”

 

Ryan and I groaned simultaneously.  Ryan is a good scratch golfer.  I, on the other hand, am abysmal.  Being Scottish, you’d figure I’d have at least a smidgen of golfing ability in my genes, but…no.  It’s just not my sport.

 

“We’re playing Foursome, and I’m paired with Greg, so quit complaining.  It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

 

As famous last words went, they beat ‘Shut up and touch the monkey!’, but not by much.

 

*******

To be continued!