Dun Roamin', PWP, 1.147 words

[simplysly.livejournal.com]

Title: Dun Roamin'
Author: simplysly
Rating: NC-17
Main Character(s) and/or pairings: Ry&Col, Greg
Summary: It's a PWP.  Misuse of foodstuffs, voyeurism, and Greg!angst.  Ryan and Colin have fun in the kitchen while Greg watches and wonders.   Thanks to claireweasley, desiredeffect, caelieth, and the_empressar for inspiration and pokes.

Ryan shivered as he stood naked in the middle of the kitchen.  In the background, the crashing of waves and the ticking of a clock marked the passage of time.  In front of him, a fully dressed Colin smirked as he held up some sort of netting.  Ryan eyed it warily, not certain as to how he should feel about this turn of events. He swallowed heavily.

 

“You know, Col, we don’t have to do this.”  With a lazy movement, Colin gestured for Ryan to turn around, eyes never ceasing their devouring of the lanky frame.  Still shivering, Ryan obeyed, leaning over the long bench seat, hands braced on the table that still held the remnants of the meal they had shared with their friends only a few hours before.  He closed his eyes and waited, feeling more embarrassed with every tick of the clock, but before he could call this off, Colin was there.  Colin, who was all warmth and comfort, who molded himself to Ryan’s back, evidence of his enjoyment quite clear.  Despite himself, Ryan felt himself responding.

 

Colin ran his hands through Ryan’s hair, before following them with the hairnet.  “We don’t want anything to get into the leftovers, do we?”  He placed a quick kiss to Ryan’s shoulder as punctuation, which had the added benefit of causing Ryan’s eyes to open just in time to see Colin reach for the butter.  The older man’s fingers left grooves in the softened material, before traveling to where they would have a much better use.

 

“Colin…” Ryan meant for it to sound chastising, but what came out was more of a breathy moan.  He felt Colin chuckle behind him, and resolved to do something to make the Canadian lose his vaunted self control.  He spread his legs and arched his back wantonly, letting out the noises that he knew Colin loved.  Ryan was so into it that he didn’t hear Colin’s breath catch, or the hasty lowering of a zipper behind him.

 

When Colin’s fingers left him, Ryan whimpered (something which he would later deny doing) and thrust himself back in an effort to find those magical digits again.  Instead, something larger and firm pressed itself against his entrance.  Ryan pushed back, before realizing that it was altogether cooler and harder than any part of Colin had right to be.  But then, Colin angled it expertly to firmly press against Ryan’s prostate, and all questions were washed away in the wave of pleasure.

 

It was to this that Greg walked in.  It was late, so he had been moving quietly as to not wake anyone, but now that he could hear Ryan, he wondered why he had bothered.  Greg took in the sight they made; Ryan completely naked, hands white knuckled on the table, erection looking painfully hard as it leaked precum; and Colin behind him, fully dressed except for the open pants, through which he was fisting his own erection.  Colin’s other hand appeared to be busy fucking Ryan with something, Greg caught a glimpse of pale orange between Colin’s fingers.  Despite himself, Greg felt his blood flow south in what promised to be an erection harder than any in recent history.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t ever thought of Ryan and Colin in such terms, granted said thoughts had been few and far between.  He had even seen them nude at various times over the years, either in dressing rooms or small apartments, but never had there been such sex and sensuality in the way their limbs moved, the way Ryan begged wordlessly and Colin knew and gave.  Greg swallowed heavily and stepped back, letting the door close most of the way.  It felt, wrong, to intrude on this moment, even if was more of fucking than making love.  If he went in there, something would change, though he wasn’t sure exactly what.  Instead, he stood and looked through the crack to the two lovers, his hand working its way into his pants to mimic Colin in at least one aspect.

 

 

 

Back in the kitchen, Ryan and Colin were unaware of their audience.  Colin, being slightly less far gone than Ryan, had heard something, but dismissed it inconsequential in comparison to his activities with Ryan.  It was rare that Ryan allowed himself to lose so much control, and Colin planned on making worth while.  He carefully manipulated the parsnip, currently pulling double duty as a dildo, to only graze the taller man’s prostate, instead of hitting it dead on.  Colin was rewarded with a wordless cry and an arching of Ryan’s back as he attempted to get the vegetable back where he wanted it.  Colin smirked slightly as he lazily fisted his erection, giving in slightly to his body’s demands.  He wanted this to last; who knew when Ryan was going to give up control again.

 

Colin knew that Ryan couldn’t/wouldn’t last much longer, so he reached again for the butter, Ryan protesting vehemently  the lack of movement from the parsnip.  Colin slicked himself up, before removing the vegetable and replacing it with himself.  He placed one hand on the table, and the other around Ryan’s erection, slick from precum.  The carrot-like makeshift dildo dropped to the floor, and Ryan moaned, a sound that Colin felt at his very core.  He responded, and a short amount of time later found Colin with his mouth in Ryan’s back, screaming, while Ryan’s cum coated his hand.

 

In the hallway, Greg came with one hand over his mouth to stifle his cries.  Afterwards, he sighed.  That had been his last pair of clean trousers.

 

He watched with no little bit of envy as the lovers separated and took to cleaning up their mess, laughing more than they had a right to.  He wondered what it would have been like if he had ever approached either of them years ago, wondered if he could have been part of the easy laughter untainted by embarrassment at having enjoyed rather kinky sex.  Quietly, Greg turned and headed back to bed.

 

In the morning, Colin and Ryan were congenial hosts; fixing breakfast, making sure everyone had everything before they left.   They were so fucking perfect that Greg couldn’t stand it and made a crack about watching out for the leftovers.  They had shared a look, and a smile.  It tasted like ashes in his mouth.   Still, he found himself reluctant to leave, and he was the last out the door.   He looked back after he had settled himself in one of the seats of the bus, took in the ‘dun roamin’ sign on the door, and as the bus started to pull away back to reality and tours, he thought that he saw Colin and Ryan heading out to the cliff behind their house, the ocean beyond them a taunting myriad of possibilities.

 

Sometimes, Greg thought, it was hell being a coward.