[Fic] Craving

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Title: [Fic] Craving 

Rating: I’m not too sure, probably R, check the warnings

Pairings: Ryan/Greg, Greg/Drew

Word Count: 2,213

Disclaimer: All happenings are fabricated.

Warnings: This is dark, has implications of violence within one of the pairings and instances of implied non-con. Nothing explicit but the implication is still there. Oh, and the usual swearing. The '*****' shows an amount of time passing 

 

 

 

Greg sighed as he looked out of the window across the darkening city, dabbing gently at his cut lip as he watched the people down on the street continuing with their tedious lives, oblivious to his gaze. Glad for the wide windowsill to laze on, Greg stretched his legs out in front of him and rolled his shoulders, wincing as they protested and finally cracked, sending a shudder down Greg’s spine as he glanced towards the bed to see if the figure laying in the dishevelled sheets had awoken at the intrusive sound.

 

Silence.

 

All was well in the contented world of Ryan, he was lying exactly as he had been when Greg had extracted himself from his hold, on his back, arms flung out to the sides, face turned to one side and legs spread at an impossible angle. Like a broken toy, Greg mused, frowning at his own thought. Standing, Greg cursed quietly as his knee gave way and he staggered ungracefully into the kitchen, scrabbling in the freezer to find some ice to cool his burning knee.

“Shit,” Greg lowered himself into one of the stools dotted around the kitchen and inspected his knee, there wasn’t any permanent damage but it would definitely be tender for a few days. “I have to stop this,” Greg muttered as he reached for the phone and punched in a number he now knew off by heart, holding the handset to his ear as he continued to massage his knee gently.

“Hello?” A drowsy voice rasped down the phone and Greg immediately felt guilty, he had obviously just dragged the man from slumber.

“Hi, it’s Greg,”

“Aw shit Greg, you know what time it is?”

“I know Drew, but I need to talk to you.” Greg pleaded.

“Pay for a shrink like normal people do.”

“Please?” There was a sigh and a creak as Drew roused himself from bed.

“Okay, okay, what’s up?” Greg grinned and gave a slight yelp of pain as his lip split open a little bit more under the strain. “Greg?”

“I’m here,” Greg paused, straining his ears for any sound from the bedroom, “And so’s Ryan.”

“Shit Greg, you okay?”

“I’m fine man, don’t worry.” The automatic response was out of Greg’s mouth before he had chance to even think about what he was saying.

“Bullshit. I’m coming over.”

“No!” Greg whispered urgently, “no, I am okay, it was better this time.”

“Better than what? A black eye, broken arm and a couple of busted ribs? Not to mention the cuts and bruises. Damn it Greg, don’t you see what danger you put yourself in when you let him near you? You’d better not have forgotten exactly what happened last time, because I sure as fuck haven’t.”

“You think I could forget that?” Greg whispered angrily, “I know what he did, but he apologised and it’s not his fault-”

“Yes,” Drew cut across Greg, “yes it is his fault, he chooses to come round there. I refuse to keep dragging myself out of bed in the small hours and driving down to yours not knowing what kind of state I’ll find you in when I arrive.”

“I’m sorry,” Greg shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “this isn’t fair on you, I’m not fair on you.”

“It’s not your fault Greg, you know I’d be there in a shot if you asked me to be, but I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening to you every night, if you’re letting him into your flat or not. You promised me the last time was going to be the last time.”

“I know, I tried Drew, but he needed me, you know he needs me, needs some sort of release.”

“You aren’t a punch bag Greg.”

“But he loves me.”

“So do I.”

 

**************************************

 

The conversation had ended shortly after that, with Greg not quite knowing what to say and Drew cursing his spontaneous declaration of love. It wasn't that neither of them hadn’t known, it had just never been acknowledged so freely before.

“Greg?” Greg jumped as Ryan appeared behind him, steadying himself on the kitchen work surface as his knee twinged with a threat of giving way.

“Yeh Ry?”

“Nothing, just wondered where you’d gone to.”

“My knee was hurting,” A look of worry passed over Ryan’s face and he came forward, turning Greg around slowly so they were facing each other.

“What did I do?” Greg frowned up at Ryan, confused by the question.

“Don’t you remember?”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan brushed down Greg’s arm with his fingertips, “can I see?” Before Greg could answer Ryan had knelt down in front of him and was touching his knee lightly. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not much any more,”

“What did I do Greg?” You wrenched my leg into the air and didn’t even fucking flinch when I told you to stop, is that what you want to hear Ryan?

“Nothing, I just caught my foot on a chair and pulled it.” Ryan didn’t looked convinced in the slightest, but he knew how proud and stubborn Greg was.

“If you’re sure?” A nod from Greg told Ryan to leave the subject alone; a glare was what he got for gesturing at the broken lip and Greg finally sidled past him with his hands balled into fists when he mentioned the broken glasses lying on the carpet. Ryan ran a hand through his hair, he never knew what to do afterwards, as Greg would never admit to what Ryan was doing to him and Ryan could never remember. It was like coming out of a daze, Ryan would awaken in a strange bed that smelt strangely of Greg, then the fear would twist his stomach and he would rush through the flat until he found his friend. Ryan shuddered as he remembered the last time, sitting down heavily on a stool as he was transported back to that night.

    

Ryan stretched languidly, feeling strangely contended, as though an unseen weight had been lifted, the tension had left his shoulders and he felt mellow, more relaxed than he had in weeks. Turning his face into the pillow Ryan breathed in deeply, frowning as a vaguely familiar scent filled his nostrils. Ryan cracked one eye open, sitting up fully as he dimly recognised the black sheets he was curled up in. Greg. Ryan had skidded around the flat, going from room to room until he had finally found Greg sat on the kitchen floor, naked apart from the phone he was clutching in his hand.

“Greg?” Ryan had knelt by Greg, lifting his head and wincing at the red and pained gaze that met his own. “Greg? What did I do?”

“Nothing Ry, nothing.” The doorbell had rung and Greg had staggered his way to the door, still naked and still clutching the phone like a lifeline. Greg opening the door revealed a very worried Drew, who quickly turned into a very angry Drew when he spotted Ryan crouched on the floor.

“Get out,” it was direct and to the point, Ryan had protested, saying he wanted to be with Greg, to help. Drew, who was by this time supporting Greg around the middle, had ushered Greg gently to a chair before rounding on Ryan. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Get away from him.”

“What did I do?” The only answer Ryan had got was a fist flying towards his face and connecting heavily with his jaw, he had left Greg’s flat with a mouth full of blood and still no recollection of what had happened during the night.

 

Ryan was jerked out of his memory by Greg stalking across his vision and staring at him with defiance.

“You’d better go,” Greg’s expression gave nothing away and Ryan was still thinking about the last time.

“I’d better go,” Ryan echoed hollowly.

“I don’t know where your clothes are.”

“I don’t know where my clothes are.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Fuck…” Ryan trailed off as a pair of jeans were thrown in his direction, followed by a shoe hitting his foot.

“Your shirt’s ruined,” ripped clothing was thrown into his lap, “and I don’t where your other shoe is. I’ll bring it round if I find it.” Ryan struggled into his jeans as Greg pushed him out of the door. “Jacket,” Greg held out Ryan’s jacket and Ryan accepted it without a word, staring at the door long after it had closed.

 

**************************************

 

An hour later and Greg was back at his place lounging on the windowsill watching the city sleep, a glass of whiskey in one hand while the other tapped out a nonsensical rhythm on his thigh. But he loves me. So do I. The words kept replaying in Greg’s mind, a continuous reel that gave no hope of ever coming to an end, and every time Greg thought of Drew’s reply his heart sank that little bit more.

 

Hours later light gradually began to filter into the city, hitting Greg straight in the face where he dozed behind the windowpane, making him scrunch up his nose and grumble in annoyance. Being balanced on the windowsill for most of the night had done nothing to ease the ache in Greg’s leg and pain lightened through it as he stood. Slowly getting dressed in back jeans and shirt, Greg slid on his spare pair of glasses and winced as he saw his reflection in the mirror, his bust lip looking even more painful than it felt, hair mussed everywhere and eyes rimmed red. The doorbell rang just as Greg switched the coffee machine on and he grumbled to himself, the last thing he wanted was some randomer to start bugging him. He was taken aback when it was Drew’s concerned but smiling face that greeted him.

“I thought we could have breakfast,” Drew held up a box and Greg sniffed greedily, he could smell fresh croissants and he was definitely not going to turn those down. 

“Certainly,” Greg showed Drew in and busied himself with making coffee, promising himself that it would not become awkward between them.

“Do you need these?” Greg looked around to find Drew holding his broken glasses by the frame, he could see the effort it took for Drew to look as calm as he currently did do.

“No, I’m wearing my spares at the minute, you can throw them away,” Drew nodded and put them in the bin, settling back into the sofa as he watched Greg busy himself with breakfast.

“You know, I meant what I said last night,” Drew suddenly said, staring straight at Greg as he spoke, who paused with the croissant box half open, hands shaking slightly.

“I know you did Drew,” Greg whispered, dropping the box back onto the counter and pressing his palms flat against the cool surface. “I know.”

“You don’t have to live like this,” Drew’s voice seemed to be coming closer but Greg didn’t have the heart or energy to watch him.

“I don’t want to,” Greg touched his fingers to his cut lip and slammed his fist back onto the counter. He jumped as a finger lightly caressed his lip, a hand curled around his chin to make him look up.

“I love you,” Drew repeated as he pressed his lips to Greg’s gently, making sure he didn’t aggravate the injury. “I love you,” he peppered Greg’s cheeks and forehead with kisses as he repeated his admission, finally drawing Greg into a hug and simply holding him.

“I love you too,” Greg whispered, pressing his face into Drew’s shoulder and holding onto his lifeline.

 

**************************************

 

“I’m sorry Drew,” Greg shook his head as he made his way towards the door of their shared flat. 

“I can’t believe what you’re going to do!” Drew followed Greg, placing a hand on his arm.

“I always said that he needed me, but I need him as well.” Greg desperately tried to explain to his lover, tried to make him see.

“But you have me,”

“You’re perfect Drew. Perfect. And I love you for it. But he’s so imperfect that I need him as well, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I won’t let him hurt you again Greg,”

“You have to Drew, or else I won’t be who I am. And how else are you going to be my lifeline?” Greg grinned at Drew in an attempt to lighten the dark mood that had descended on their flat.

“Is this just about sex? Getting a cheap thrill?”

“No, it’s just something Ryan needs. Something I need. Will you wait for me?” Drew sighed and stepped back, spreading his hands in a gesture of defeat.

“Of course I will. I’m always only a phone call away.”

“Thank you.”

“For being a sucker?”

“For understanding.” Drew shrugged,

“I love you.”

 

 

**************************************

 

Greg opened the door to the hotel room and threw his jacket onto a chair, grabbing a glass of whiskey from the mini-bar and downing it, wincing as it burned his throat. There was a knock on the door and Greg put the glass down with shaking hands, forcing himself to open the door and refusing to speculate on what might come next.

“Hello Greg.”

“Hi Ryan.”