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wl_fanfiction2008-01-22 09:26 am
clayangel.livejournal.com) wrote in wl_fanfiction2008-01-22 09:26 am
Entry tags:
[FIC] Before the Dawn 4/13
Title: Before the Dawn
Author: Clay
Pairings: Ryan/Colin, Greg/Chip, Ryan/Greg, Colin/Jeff
Rating: NC-17 for some sex bits :D
Summary: Greg tries not to live in the past but love and temptation have a funny way of coming back around again. Betaed by Lyndsey; original concept by Clay and Lyndsey.
Word Count: 4,125
All Chapters
Chapter 4
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, the freshly fallen snow glittering blindingly across the yard. In the distance, the ice covered pines sparkled like diamonds, and from his place by the window, Greg could just make out the half covered tracks marking Ryan and Colin’s trail from the previous evening.
A pair of hands sneaked around his stomach, fingers dancing their way across his skin before strong arms pulled him back into a tight hug.
“Morning, baby,” Chip said softly, laying his chin against Greg’s shoulder, and Greg smiled tightly.
“Don’t call me baby.”
Chip ignored him, shifting slightly to press his lips to the column of Greg’s throat, his hands twitching, inching lower, and thick and sour guilt stole over Greg when the first thing to come to mind was Ryan’s hand and the way it felt wrapped around his cock, the long, slender fingers tightening to just short of painful.
“Come on. What am I, your crutch?” Greg croaked out around an attempt at a laugh. He cleared his throat and then turned in Chip’s embrace when he didn’t answer immediately, pushing any thoughts of last night from his mind. Chip watched him in slight confusion.
“No, I...” he started, curling his fingers in Greg’s shirt and lowering his eyes.
“Pancakes!”
Drew’s voice boomed across the landing, and Greg and Chip swung their heads toward the door to see him poking just inside the bedroom, grinning wildly. “I made breakfast,” he said, following the statement up with a smarmy wink. “Get your butts downstairs.”
* * *
“So what are our plans for the day?” Jeff was asking, slicing through a thick stack of pancakes with the edge of his fork. The pastries swam in a sea of syrup that overflowed the plate in places, and Greg watched it drip rhythmically to the table below.
He curled his fingers around his simple mug of black coffee, having opted out of the smorgasbord that Drew was offering, and leaned back in his chair, trying hard not to wonder where Ryan was. Drew was telling Jeff about the slopes on the other side of the mountain, but they trailed off into apologetic laughter when Chip cut in, commenting that skiing would be difficult on a broken foot.
After that, Greg blocked out much of the conversation. He watched the steam rise off his coffee, white in the cool morning air and swirling against the black backdrop of the brew, twining like snakes.
“Holy shit, man. What happened to your cheek?”
Greg jerked his head up at Drew’s outburst, and they all looked over to Ryan, who had just crossed the threshold into the kitchen and stopped, blinking in confusion. He lifted his hand to his cheek, pressing two fingers to the crimson splotch that decorated his skin just along the cheekbone, his eyes going to Greg’s, catching and holding for a moment. “Nothing,” he said, his voice even. “It’s stupid.”
He snapped his head away, crossing over to the coffee maker, and Greg let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Stupid?” Drew remarked, grinning. “See, now you have to tell us. Can’t hold out on a reason for me to mock you, Stiles.”
“Fine, fine,” Ryan consented, turning back to Drew with a grin and tipping a healthy dollop of Brandy into his coffee. “You want to know? I ran into the door on my way to the bathroom, okay? This house is fucking pitch-black at night.”
“You’re serious?” Drew watched him back, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. “You actually, seriously ran into a door? I didn’t know that fucking happened.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Ryan gave a shake of the head and pulled out a seat at the table, the only seat left, directly across from Greg. He leaned over to give Colin a quick kiss on the cheek, then lifted his mug to his lips and let his gaze slide back over to Greg. They watched each other for a long moment, and Greg had questions, but now was neither the time nor place to broach them.
”Hey, babe?”
Chip’s hand was on Greg’s knee suddenly, and he ripped his gaze away from Ryan, blinking at him for a moment before running his fingers through his hair with a small smile.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I think I’m still half asleep.”
Chip smiled in return. His fingers curled gently against Greg’s thigh. “I was just asking if you had any ideas. What do you want to do today?”
Instinct kicked in, and Greg grinned back wickedly, his own hand stealing over Chip’s lap, caressing him high up along his thigh. “Oh, I can think of a few things,” he whispered, shifting closer and setting his mug down on the table.
Chip chuckled, nodding in encouragement, and then he was shifting closer, too, practically purring as Greg lay a soft kiss just behind the hinge of his jaw. A sharp movement out of the corner of Greg’s eyes had him sliding his gaze over curiously just as Ryan looked away.
Greg wet his lips, a plan forming in the back of his mind. Ryan wasn’t looking at him now, and for all intents and purposes appeared to be engrossed in the conversation happening around them, but his lips were pressed together in a thin, tight line, and his knuckles were nearly bleached white with his death grip on his own coffee mug.
Greg’s lips brushed Chip’s ear, his voice dropping further. “Keep very quiet,” he ordered, his fingers sneaking along Chip’s thigh, ghosting over his warm penis and then delving beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.
Chip let out a barely audible gasp, shuddering delightedly at the touch, and when Greg pulled back to grin at him, he found Chip’s eyes open wide, lips turned up in a mooning smile.
“What, here?” he asked, only loud enough for Greg to hear, and Greg gave a quick nod, lifting a finger to his lips just before turning to face forward again.
One hand stayed beneath the table, working until his fingers were wrapped in a loose embrace around Chip’s slowly hardening dick, but Greg kept his features schooled carefully neutral as he lifted his cooling coffee to his lips and turned up his head on the pretense of following Drew and Jeff’s volley as they bantered across the table.
Chip tilted forward, crossing his arms on the table top and then leaning heavily against them. After a moment he picked up his fork to push around the remains of his breakfast for a semblance of normality, but he kept his head down, his cheeks flushed pink from arousal as Greg touched him in small, careful movements, lack of lubricant making the feat difficult but not impossible. Only the errant drops of precum he squeezed from the large, soft head offered him any help, and he used each in turn, swiping the liquid around the crown and continuing his caress, feeling himself respond in kind with each soft breath Chip let out and each insignificant shift as Chip looked for a comfortable position that wouldn’t give them away.
Greg lifted his head, grinning, but the smile dropped off his face in an instant as his eyes met Ryan’s. Even if Ryan was hiding behind his cup of coffee, separating them with a wispy curtain of steam, his scowl was unmistakable.
’Fuck with me...’ Greg thought vaguely, even if he couldn’t logically make sense of this sordid sort of revenger, but Ryan looked pissed, and it left Greg feeling vindicated. His cock gave a distant twitch as he continued along that line of thought, that Ryan was the only one who knew what they were doing, what was happening just below the table, that he was keeping their secret, that maybe Ryan would give him shit for it later, his voice low and rough as he shoved Greg against the wall, demanding an explanation, his eyes bright with jealousy as he growled in low tones that Chip had nothing on him, and if Greg only gave him a chance, he’d be screaming Ryan’s name to the heavens in sheer pleasure....
“Oh, God,” Chip whispered, bringing Greg back, and suddenly Drew, seated at Greg’s elbow, was watching them curiously, and Greg had his hand wrapped around his own dick without thought as he gave Chip’s erection a particularly tight squeeze, and Ryan was watching with dangerously narrowed eyes. Chip shuddered, coming in hot, creamy globs that flowed between Greg’s fingers, his forehead pressed against his arms, muffling his soft cry.
“Are you all right?” Drew said just as Ryan stood.
The scraping of Ryan’s chair along the linoleum nearly drowned out the words, and Greg used that as an excuse to ignore the question, fondling Chip’s scrotum lazily as he came down, frowning and watching as Ryan slammed his chair back into place, grabbed up his coffee and started for the back door. Suddenly Ryan was the center of attention, everyone watching him in confusion, but it was Greg that called out, a lilt to his voice that perhaps betrayed a bit too much smugness.
“Where are you going, Ry?”
To Greg’s right, Chip was picking his head up, fixing him with a dark look, but Greg ignored him as well, unable to take his eyes off Ryan had he tried.
Ryan snapped his head around, glaring at Greg for just a split second before starting off again. “Going out for a smoke,” he bit out, fishing a pack of Malboros from his pocket to illustrate the point, and then he was jerking his jacket from the hook by the door, and it rattled the windows when he slammed the door shut.
A full thirty seconds passed, everyone staring at the door in silence save Chip, who saw fit to glare a hole in the side of Greg’s head.
Suddenly Jeff piped up. “What the fuck was that?” he asked, an odd, curious smile tinting his tone.
Colin, however, only looked concerned. “I’m going to check on him,” he said, pulling himself to his feet.
Jeff frowned at Colin’s retreating back, but then Chip was wrapping his fingers around Greg’s wrist and yanking his hand from where he was still fondling his balls idly.
“I’m going, too,” he said to the room at large, though his eyes were still on Greg. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
He’d left his crutches upstairs, so he was literally hopping out the door as Greg sighed and finally turned toward him. “Let me help!” he called, but Chip didn’t even hesitate as he disappeared through the doorway.
With another, deeper sigh, Greg climbed to his feet, thankful that his erection had wilted enough not to be immediately noticeable, and he hurried after Chip to the sounds of Jeff and Drew’s soft, uncertain questions.
“Chip!” Greg called out again, but Chip continued forward, hopping toward the staircase. Greg thought he’d make quite an amusing picture had he not been so obviously upset. He caught up to Chip with a brisk walk just as he was reaching the stairs. Chip reached for the railing, falling just inches short, and he stumbled forward, flailing and putting weight onto his bad leg with a strangled cry.
“Shit!” he swore, just as Greg reached him, and immediately took Chip’s shoulders to steer them both to sit down on the bottom step.
“Hey, baby, you okay?” Greg crooned, rubbing soothing circles into Chip’s back, but Chip was in no state to answer. He clenched his teeth, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and sucked in a long breath as he leaned back against the steps and extended his leg, hoping to take some of the pressure off as the pain subsided.
“I’m fine,” Chip said once he caught his breath, though his face was still twisted in pain. “I don’t need your help.”
But Greg stayed, slowing his circles until his hand was simply resting on Chip’s back, feeling the eventual slowing of Chip’s heart back to a normal beat. Chip didn’t pull away, though the muscles of his back were taut, and he refused to look at Greg, instead staring down at his foot, his gaze unfocused, and Greg imagined it was throbbing as blood pumped through the veins.
The hard wood of the step was bearing into Greg’s tail bone, and he shifted slightly, starting his stroking once more, caressing a line down Chip’s spine.
“Come on, babe,” he said gently. “Let’s get you in bed, okay?”
“You only call me baby when you’ve done something wrong,” Chip said suddenly, his eyes still turned down.
Greg blinked. “I didn’t—“
“You did,” Chip said, cutting him off and turning to watch him. “Twice.”
“I...” Greg frowned and then shrugged apologetically. “It was an accident.”
Chip continued to watch him for another moment, then hummed a soft, doleful note as he struggled to his feet once more, fending off Greg’s attempts to steady him.
“Interesting that you only used endearments by accident,” he grumbled, but Greg thought he sounded more sad than angry.
“Come on,” he said, biting back yet another sigh. “You know it’s not like that.”
“No?” Chip snapped his head around, glaring at Greg with a careful scrutiny. “How is it, then, Greg? What was that back there?” He clung to the railing like a lifeline even as his free hand swung out, pointing toward the kitchen. “You were watching Ryan while you were touching me, weren’t you?”
“I was just—he—“
“What are you playing at? What’s going on?”
Greg met Chip’s eyes, seeing the anger, the embarrassment, all drowned in a deep fear. He could tell Chip. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong; he hadn’t asked Ryan to touch him in the bathroom last night. He’d, in fact, pushed him away, and if there was a lingering curiosity, then it was just that: curiosity. He was only human, and besides, nothing would come of it.
He took a deep breath—and lied.
“It was nothing,” he said easily, moving forward to take Chip’s hands. Though there was doubt heavy in Chip’s gaze, a light string of hope had him taking Greg’s hands in return. “I caught him watching us is all. And...and maybe I’ve got a bit of an exhibitionist in me.” He ended it all with a sheepish smile, his heart pounding madly in his chest.
And slowly, so slowly, a smile tilted up the corners of Chip’s mouth. “Yeah?” he said after a moment, sifting through Greg’s words in his mind. “Okay. I mean, it’s kinky, but...yeah. I can see how you’d get off on that.”
Greg let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and tugged Chip into a tight hug. “You’re the only one I want,” he whispered fiercely, holding him even tighter as he felt Chip’s hands wind their way into the back of his shirt. “I promise.”
* * *
The next two days passed in relative calm, and if anyone noticed Ryan and Greg staunchly avoiding one another’s eyes, it was never mentioned.
Their third night on the mountain was a relatively mild one, the snow falling outside in wet, heavy flakes, dark clouds obscuring the moon. They’d opted to spend the evening indoors with a simple night of drinking and mocking old movies in a way that reminded Greg so thoroughly of “Film Dub” he couldn’t keep a smile from his lips. The previous day had been spent wandering the local shops and the one before that they’d actually spent skiing, much to Jeff’s delight. The fresh, crisp air had been wonderful, and it invigorated Chip, even though he couldn’t take to the slopes himself. Today, they’d unanimously declared, was a day of rest.
“And booze,” Jeff said, grinning sloppy from what Greg had decided was his favorite spot, stretched out before the fire with a beer in hand. Greg was starting to think him quite the lush, but then, he’d been watching Jeff, caught him watching Ryan and Colin on more than one occasion, and if his own experiences were anything to go by, he considered that Jeff’s fondness of alcohol could be due to more than just a love of the taste.
“But we’re almost out,” Drew said. Or slurred, rather, as he was already working on his fifth, and—Greg noted later—their last Bud. Drew nodded, a vague, amused smile settling over his lips. “Somebody should get more.”
“Not you,” Ryan said with a smirk. He was only halfway through his first beer of the evening, he and Colin only recently having joined them, descended from the second floor with flushed cheeks and broad smiles that left little doubt as to what they’d been up to.
“Then you go,” Drew said, thrusting his beer bottle at Ryan as he spoke so that beer sloshed and foamed from the narrow mouth.
“Why me?” Ryan said, burrowing further into the couch, obviously content to simply not move for the remainder of the evening. “Why not—“ he spared a glance around the room. Drew and Jeff were both too inebriated to even think about getting behind the wheel, and Chip was out by default. Greg sucked in a breath, wondering if Ryan would pay him any mind for the first time in two days, but when Ryan came around to him, his gaze slid past as though he weren’t even there.
“—Colin?” Ryan finished, smirking wider as he met his lover’s eyes.
“Oh, fuck no,” Colin retorted. He curled his bare feet up under him, pressing the soles against Ryan’s thigh in the process and the cradling his goblet of dark wine protectively in anticipation. A moment later, Ryan yelped and leapt to his feet, glaring.
Colin only chuckled, lifting the glass and taking a deep gulp.
“Your feet are like ice!”
“And it looks like you’re up and ready to go,” Colin said, lowering his glass and licking his lips, smirking broadly.
Ryan just stared at him, then shook his head, smiling back in dark amusement.
“You...,” he started, smiling wider when Colin just continued to grin at him. “All right, fine. Let me find my keys.”
“Get a lot,” Jeff said, picking himself up from the floor unsteadily.
Ryan turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “A lot?” he echoed, looking for clarification.
But Jeff just nodded and plopped back down, cuddling up next to Colin with a drunken smile. “A lot,” he agreed.
Ryan laughed wryly, shaking his head and then crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay. And how do you expect me to carry home this metric ton of liquor?”
“Bring Greg,” Colin offered.
Ryan started and actually looked to him then, a light frown touching his lips. Greg watched him back, his expression schooled carefully neutral.
“He has to take care of Chip,” Ryan supplied after a long moment. His tone was light, but Greg could read the warning in his eyes far too clearly.
But it was Chip, surprisingly, who gave Greg the opportunity he’d been looking for for the past two days with a simple, pouty, “I can take care of myself.”
“Then it’s settled,” Greg said before there could be anymore protests. He climbed to his feet, staring Ryan down challengingly.
Ryan hesitated, his eyes narrowing. He gave a jerky nod. “Let’s go.”
* * *
But despite the questions plaguing Greg over the past 48 hours, not one came to him as they took the twenty minute drive into town. Ryan, for his part, stayed stonily silent, blaring Zepplin from the radio in lieu of conversation. If this was going to be resolved, Greg knew it was up to him to do it—if only he could find the words.
Those words came to him in the liquor store as Ryan picked up a bottle of butterscotch schnapps, mumbling something about it being Colin’s favorite. He waited until they were in the safety of the car, however, the alcohol nestled away in the back, stuffed inside two, hefty Jim Bean boxes, to make his move. Just as they were pulling out of the lot, he reached forward, shutting off the stereo.
Ryan frowned, but he kept his mouth shut, and Greg steeled himself.
“What about Colin?”
Ryan was quiet for a long moment, his fingers flexing anxiously around the steering wheel. He didn’t take his eyes off the road.
“What about him?”
Greg frowned. He was in no mood for games. “Did you tell him you came onto me the other night?” he said.
“Did you tell Chip?” Ryan shot back.
Greg frowned deeper. “No.”
Ryan didn’t need to answer.
This wasn’t going at all the way Greg had planned. He raked his fingers through his hair, his pompadour bouncing back with a merriment the rest of him failed to muster.
“What was that?” he finally asked, his hands dropping back into his lap, his voice almost embarrassingly soft. “Just—why?”
This time Ryan was quiet for so long that Greg was sure he wasn’t going to answer, but rather than prod him, Greg just watched as Ryan wet his lips, his knuckles white now where he clenched the wheel. He shot Greg a quick look before returning his gaze to the road.
“Curiosity,” Ryan said at last. He was silent another few seconds, sorting out the thoughts in his head. “There was a time...” he said slowly, “...years ago, back around when we first met, when I...I considered....” He trailed off, pressing his lips together. “But like you said, that was a long time ago. I’m with Colin. I love Colin. I always have. So this—“ He gestured between them with one hand, keeping his eyes on the road.
But rather than satisfy Greg’s own curiosity, Ryan’s answer was only proving to intensify it. “You felt the same,” he said. It was less a question than a realization, but Ryan only frowned deeper.
“Not going to happen, Greg.”
“But—I mean, we’re both curious—“
“Not going to happen.”
Greg jerked forward, his stomach leaping into his throat as Ryan slammed his foot on the break and eased the car to the curb before shifting into park. Greg blinked, his breath catching in his throat apprehensively as he turned to Ryan and finally met his eyes. Snow fell around them, melting on the windshield just as the wipers swept it away. For a moment, silence reigned behind the squeak of rubber on glass, then Greg turned away, trained his gaze on the slowly growing crust of ice just beyond the dashboard. He swallowed around a thick lump, feeling Ryan’s eyes boring into him.
“Greg,” Ryan said carefully, and there was something that almost seemed bridled anger underlaying each word. “We’re dropping this now. I’m with Colin, and you’re with Chip, and that’s not—“
“You said it yourself,” Greg said, stopping Ryan short. He looked back to him, frowning. “You can’t start a fire and just expect it to go out on its own.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “I was wrong.”
“I think,” Greg said, twisting in his seat now and ignoring it as Ryan unconsciously pulled back, “that maybe you’re not as happy with Colin as you like to pretend to be. I think you want to know what this—“ And now he was echoing Ryan’s actions from a moment ago, waving between them, and Ryan just looked angry. “—could have been just as much as—“
“Are you listening to yourself!?” Ryan shouted, and Greg slammed his mouth shut, flinching back. It had been a long time since he’s seen Ryan truly angry, and he forgotten how formidable he could be. “Chip,” Ryan continued, “your lover is hurt and you want to abandon him for a fucking game of ‘what if?’ Well, not me.” He jammed a thumb into his chest, his cheeks bright pink, breathing picking up. “I’m not willing to take that risk. I have something good going with Colin, and I’m not about to throw that all away because you like the way I touch your dick, so shut the fuck up and drop it!”
Greg stared at him. Ryan’s chest was heaving, his harsh breathing filling the SUV, shuddering breaths let out in time to the squeak of the wipers.
Time ticked by slowly, and Greg felt his heart settle back into his chest, and Ryan quieted down, his cheeks going from pink to white before he shook his head and turned to face front again, jerkily shifting back into drive and then pulling the car back onto the road.
“It’s not going to happen,” Ryan reiterated one last time.
“No,” Greg agreed, looking back out the window and longing for a cigarette. “It’s not.”
He thought that would be the end of it.
Author: Clay
Pairings: Ryan/Colin, Greg/Chip, Ryan/Greg, Colin/Jeff
Rating: NC-17 for some sex bits :D
Summary: Greg tries not to live in the past but love and temptation have a funny way of coming back around again. Betaed by Lyndsey; original concept by Clay and Lyndsey.
Word Count: 4,125
All Chapters
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, the freshly fallen snow glittering blindingly across the yard. In the distance, the ice covered pines sparkled like diamonds, and from his place by the window, Greg could just make out the half covered tracks marking Ryan and Colin’s trail from the previous evening.
A pair of hands sneaked around his stomach, fingers dancing their way across his skin before strong arms pulled him back into a tight hug.
“Morning, baby,” Chip said softly, laying his chin against Greg’s shoulder, and Greg smiled tightly.
“Don’t call me baby.”
Chip ignored him, shifting slightly to press his lips to the column of Greg’s throat, his hands twitching, inching lower, and thick and sour guilt stole over Greg when the first thing to come to mind was Ryan’s hand and the way it felt wrapped around his cock, the long, slender fingers tightening to just short of painful.
“Come on. What am I, your crutch?” Greg croaked out around an attempt at a laugh. He cleared his throat and then turned in Chip’s embrace when he didn’t answer immediately, pushing any thoughts of last night from his mind. Chip watched him in slight confusion.
“No, I...” he started, curling his fingers in Greg’s shirt and lowering his eyes.
“Pancakes!”
Drew’s voice boomed across the landing, and Greg and Chip swung their heads toward the door to see him poking just inside the bedroom, grinning wildly. “I made breakfast,” he said, following the statement up with a smarmy wink. “Get your butts downstairs.”
“So what are our plans for the day?” Jeff was asking, slicing through a thick stack of pancakes with the edge of his fork. The pastries swam in a sea of syrup that overflowed the plate in places, and Greg watched it drip rhythmically to the table below.
He curled his fingers around his simple mug of black coffee, having opted out of the smorgasbord that Drew was offering, and leaned back in his chair, trying hard not to wonder where Ryan was. Drew was telling Jeff about the slopes on the other side of the mountain, but they trailed off into apologetic laughter when Chip cut in, commenting that skiing would be difficult on a broken foot.
After that, Greg blocked out much of the conversation. He watched the steam rise off his coffee, white in the cool morning air and swirling against the black backdrop of the brew, twining like snakes.
“Holy shit, man. What happened to your cheek?”
Greg jerked his head up at Drew’s outburst, and they all looked over to Ryan, who had just crossed the threshold into the kitchen and stopped, blinking in confusion. He lifted his hand to his cheek, pressing two fingers to the crimson splotch that decorated his skin just along the cheekbone, his eyes going to Greg’s, catching and holding for a moment. “Nothing,” he said, his voice even. “It’s stupid.”
He snapped his head away, crossing over to the coffee maker, and Greg let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Stupid?” Drew remarked, grinning. “See, now you have to tell us. Can’t hold out on a reason for me to mock you, Stiles.”
“Fine, fine,” Ryan consented, turning back to Drew with a grin and tipping a healthy dollop of Brandy into his coffee. “You want to know? I ran into the door on my way to the bathroom, okay? This house is fucking pitch-black at night.”
“You’re serious?” Drew watched him back, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. “You actually, seriously ran into a door? I didn’t know that fucking happened.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Ryan gave a shake of the head and pulled out a seat at the table, the only seat left, directly across from Greg. He leaned over to give Colin a quick kiss on the cheek, then lifted his mug to his lips and let his gaze slide back over to Greg. They watched each other for a long moment, and Greg had questions, but now was neither the time nor place to broach them.
”Hey, babe?”
Chip’s hand was on Greg’s knee suddenly, and he ripped his gaze away from Ryan, blinking at him for a moment before running his fingers through his hair with a small smile.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I think I’m still half asleep.”
Chip smiled in return. His fingers curled gently against Greg’s thigh. “I was just asking if you had any ideas. What do you want to do today?”
Instinct kicked in, and Greg grinned back wickedly, his own hand stealing over Chip’s lap, caressing him high up along his thigh. “Oh, I can think of a few things,” he whispered, shifting closer and setting his mug down on the table.
Chip chuckled, nodding in encouragement, and then he was shifting closer, too, practically purring as Greg lay a soft kiss just behind the hinge of his jaw. A sharp movement out of the corner of Greg’s eyes had him sliding his gaze over curiously just as Ryan looked away.
Greg wet his lips, a plan forming in the back of his mind. Ryan wasn’t looking at him now, and for all intents and purposes appeared to be engrossed in the conversation happening around them, but his lips were pressed together in a thin, tight line, and his knuckles were nearly bleached white with his death grip on his own coffee mug.
Greg’s lips brushed Chip’s ear, his voice dropping further. “Keep very quiet,” he ordered, his fingers sneaking along Chip’s thigh, ghosting over his warm penis and then delving beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.
Chip let out a barely audible gasp, shuddering delightedly at the touch, and when Greg pulled back to grin at him, he found Chip’s eyes open wide, lips turned up in a mooning smile.
“What, here?” he asked, only loud enough for Greg to hear, and Greg gave a quick nod, lifting a finger to his lips just before turning to face forward again.
One hand stayed beneath the table, working until his fingers were wrapped in a loose embrace around Chip’s slowly hardening dick, but Greg kept his features schooled carefully neutral as he lifted his cooling coffee to his lips and turned up his head on the pretense of following Drew and Jeff’s volley as they bantered across the table.
Chip tilted forward, crossing his arms on the table top and then leaning heavily against them. After a moment he picked up his fork to push around the remains of his breakfast for a semblance of normality, but he kept his head down, his cheeks flushed pink from arousal as Greg touched him in small, careful movements, lack of lubricant making the feat difficult but not impossible. Only the errant drops of precum he squeezed from the large, soft head offered him any help, and he used each in turn, swiping the liquid around the crown and continuing his caress, feeling himself respond in kind with each soft breath Chip let out and each insignificant shift as Chip looked for a comfortable position that wouldn’t give them away.
Greg lifted his head, grinning, but the smile dropped off his face in an instant as his eyes met Ryan’s. Even if Ryan was hiding behind his cup of coffee, separating them with a wispy curtain of steam, his scowl was unmistakable.
’Fuck with me...’ Greg thought vaguely, even if he couldn’t logically make sense of this sordid sort of revenger, but Ryan looked pissed, and it left Greg feeling vindicated. His cock gave a distant twitch as he continued along that line of thought, that Ryan was the only one who knew what they were doing, what was happening just below the table, that he was keeping their secret, that maybe Ryan would give him shit for it later, his voice low and rough as he shoved Greg against the wall, demanding an explanation, his eyes bright with jealousy as he growled in low tones that Chip had nothing on him, and if Greg only gave him a chance, he’d be screaming Ryan’s name to the heavens in sheer pleasure....
“Oh, God,” Chip whispered, bringing Greg back, and suddenly Drew, seated at Greg’s elbow, was watching them curiously, and Greg had his hand wrapped around his own dick without thought as he gave Chip’s erection a particularly tight squeeze, and Ryan was watching with dangerously narrowed eyes. Chip shuddered, coming in hot, creamy globs that flowed between Greg’s fingers, his forehead pressed against his arms, muffling his soft cry.
“Are you all right?” Drew said just as Ryan stood.
The scraping of Ryan’s chair along the linoleum nearly drowned out the words, and Greg used that as an excuse to ignore the question, fondling Chip’s scrotum lazily as he came down, frowning and watching as Ryan slammed his chair back into place, grabbed up his coffee and started for the back door. Suddenly Ryan was the center of attention, everyone watching him in confusion, but it was Greg that called out, a lilt to his voice that perhaps betrayed a bit too much smugness.
“Where are you going, Ry?”
To Greg’s right, Chip was picking his head up, fixing him with a dark look, but Greg ignored him as well, unable to take his eyes off Ryan had he tried.
Ryan snapped his head around, glaring at Greg for just a split second before starting off again. “Going out for a smoke,” he bit out, fishing a pack of Malboros from his pocket to illustrate the point, and then he was jerking his jacket from the hook by the door, and it rattled the windows when he slammed the door shut.
A full thirty seconds passed, everyone staring at the door in silence save Chip, who saw fit to glare a hole in the side of Greg’s head.
Suddenly Jeff piped up. “What the fuck was that?” he asked, an odd, curious smile tinting his tone.
Colin, however, only looked concerned. “I’m going to check on him,” he said, pulling himself to his feet.
Jeff frowned at Colin’s retreating back, but then Chip was wrapping his fingers around Greg’s wrist and yanking his hand from where he was still fondling his balls idly.
“I’m going, too,” he said to the room at large, though his eyes were still on Greg. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
He’d left his crutches upstairs, so he was literally hopping out the door as Greg sighed and finally turned toward him. “Let me help!” he called, but Chip didn’t even hesitate as he disappeared through the doorway.
With another, deeper sigh, Greg climbed to his feet, thankful that his erection had wilted enough not to be immediately noticeable, and he hurried after Chip to the sounds of Jeff and Drew’s soft, uncertain questions.
“Chip!” Greg called out again, but Chip continued forward, hopping toward the staircase. Greg thought he’d make quite an amusing picture had he not been so obviously upset. He caught up to Chip with a brisk walk just as he was reaching the stairs. Chip reached for the railing, falling just inches short, and he stumbled forward, flailing and putting weight onto his bad leg with a strangled cry.
“Shit!” he swore, just as Greg reached him, and immediately took Chip’s shoulders to steer them both to sit down on the bottom step.
“Hey, baby, you okay?” Greg crooned, rubbing soothing circles into Chip’s back, but Chip was in no state to answer. He clenched his teeth, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and sucked in a long breath as he leaned back against the steps and extended his leg, hoping to take some of the pressure off as the pain subsided.
“I’m fine,” Chip said once he caught his breath, though his face was still twisted in pain. “I don’t need your help.”
But Greg stayed, slowing his circles until his hand was simply resting on Chip’s back, feeling the eventual slowing of Chip’s heart back to a normal beat. Chip didn’t pull away, though the muscles of his back were taut, and he refused to look at Greg, instead staring down at his foot, his gaze unfocused, and Greg imagined it was throbbing as blood pumped through the veins.
The hard wood of the step was bearing into Greg’s tail bone, and he shifted slightly, starting his stroking once more, caressing a line down Chip’s spine.
“Come on, babe,” he said gently. “Let’s get you in bed, okay?”
“You only call me baby when you’ve done something wrong,” Chip said suddenly, his eyes still turned down.
Greg blinked. “I didn’t—“
“You did,” Chip said, cutting him off and turning to watch him. “Twice.”
“I...” Greg frowned and then shrugged apologetically. “It was an accident.”
Chip continued to watch him for another moment, then hummed a soft, doleful note as he struggled to his feet once more, fending off Greg’s attempts to steady him.
“Interesting that you only used endearments by accident,” he grumbled, but Greg thought he sounded more sad than angry.
“Come on,” he said, biting back yet another sigh. “You know it’s not like that.”
“No?” Chip snapped his head around, glaring at Greg with a careful scrutiny. “How is it, then, Greg? What was that back there?” He clung to the railing like a lifeline even as his free hand swung out, pointing toward the kitchen. “You were watching Ryan while you were touching me, weren’t you?”
“I was just—he—“
“What are you playing at? What’s going on?”
Greg met Chip’s eyes, seeing the anger, the embarrassment, all drowned in a deep fear. He could tell Chip. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong; he hadn’t asked Ryan to touch him in the bathroom last night. He’d, in fact, pushed him away, and if there was a lingering curiosity, then it was just that: curiosity. He was only human, and besides, nothing would come of it.
He took a deep breath—and lied.
“It was nothing,” he said easily, moving forward to take Chip’s hands. Though there was doubt heavy in Chip’s gaze, a light string of hope had him taking Greg’s hands in return. “I caught him watching us is all. And...and maybe I’ve got a bit of an exhibitionist in me.” He ended it all with a sheepish smile, his heart pounding madly in his chest.
And slowly, so slowly, a smile tilted up the corners of Chip’s mouth. “Yeah?” he said after a moment, sifting through Greg’s words in his mind. “Okay. I mean, it’s kinky, but...yeah. I can see how you’d get off on that.”
Greg let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and tugged Chip into a tight hug. “You’re the only one I want,” he whispered fiercely, holding him even tighter as he felt Chip’s hands wind their way into the back of his shirt. “I promise.”
The next two days passed in relative calm, and if anyone noticed Ryan and Greg staunchly avoiding one another’s eyes, it was never mentioned.
Their third night on the mountain was a relatively mild one, the snow falling outside in wet, heavy flakes, dark clouds obscuring the moon. They’d opted to spend the evening indoors with a simple night of drinking and mocking old movies in a way that reminded Greg so thoroughly of “Film Dub” he couldn’t keep a smile from his lips. The previous day had been spent wandering the local shops and the one before that they’d actually spent skiing, much to Jeff’s delight. The fresh, crisp air had been wonderful, and it invigorated Chip, even though he couldn’t take to the slopes himself. Today, they’d unanimously declared, was a day of rest.
“And booze,” Jeff said, grinning sloppy from what Greg had decided was his favorite spot, stretched out before the fire with a beer in hand. Greg was starting to think him quite the lush, but then, he’d been watching Jeff, caught him watching Ryan and Colin on more than one occasion, and if his own experiences were anything to go by, he considered that Jeff’s fondness of alcohol could be due to more than just a love of the taste.
“But we’re almost out,” Drew said. Or slurred, rather, as he was already working on his fifth, and—Greg noted later—their last Bud. Drew nodded, a vague, amused smile settling over his lips. “Somebody should get more.”
“Not you,” Ryan said with a smirk. He was only halfway through his first beer of the evening, he and Colin only recently having joined them, descended from the second floor with flushed cheeks and broad smiles that left little doubt as to what they’d been up to.
“Then you go,” Drew said, thrusting his beer bottle at Ryan as he spoke so that beer sloshed and foamed from the narrow mouth.
“Why me?” Ryan said, burrowing further into the couch, obviously content to simply not move for the remainder of the evening. “Why not—“ he spared a glance around the room. Drew and Jeff were both too inebriated to even think about getting behind the wheel, and Chip was out by default. Greg sucked in a breath, wondering if Ryan would pay him any mind for the first time in two days, but when Ryan came around to him, his gaze slid past as though he weren’t even there.
“—Colin?” Ryan finished, smirking wider as he met his lover’s eyes.
“Oh, fuck no,” Colin retorted. He curled his bare feet up under him, pressing the soles against Ryan’s thigh in the process and the cradling his goblet of dark wine protectively in anticipation. A moment later, Ryan yelped and leapt to his feet, glaring.
Colin only chuckled, lifting the glass and taking a deep gulp.
“Your feet are like ice!”
“And it looks like you’re up and ready to go,” Colin said, lowering his glass and licking his lips, smirking broadly.
Ryan just stared at him, then shook his head, smiling back in dark amusement.
“You...,” he started, smiling wider when Colin just continued to grin at him. “All right, fine. Let me find my keys.”
“Get a lot,” Jeff said, picking himself up from the floor unsteadily.
Ryan turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “A lot?” he echoed, looking for clarification.
But Jeff just nodded and plopped back down, cuddling up next to Colin with a drunken smile. “A lot,” he agreed.
Ryan laughed wryly, shaking his head and then crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay. And how do you expect me to carry home this metric ton of liquor?”
“Bring Greg,” Colin offered.
Ryan started and actually looked to him then, a light frown touching his lips. Greg watched him back, his expression schooled carefully neutral.
“He has to take care of Chip,” Ryan supplied after a long moment. His tone was light, but Greg could read the warning in his eyes far too clearly.
But it was Chip, surprisingly, who gave Greg the opportunity he’d been looking for for the past two days with a simple, pouty, “I can take care of myself.”
“Then it’s settled,” Greg said before there could be anymore protests. He climbed to his feet, staring Ryan down challengingly.
Ryan hesitated, his eyes narrowing. He gave a jerky nod. “Let’s go.”
But despite the questions plaguing Greg over the past 48 hours, not one came to him as they took the twenty minute drive into town. Ryan, for his part, stayed stonily silent, blaring Zepplin from the radio in lieu of conversation. If this was going to be resolved, Greg knew it was up to him to do it—if only he could find the words.
Those words came to him in the liquor store as Ryan picked up a bottle of butterscotch schnapps, mumbling something about it being Colin’s favorite. He waited until they were in the safety of the car, however, the alcohol nestled away in the back, stuffed inside two, hefty Jim Bean boxes, to make his move. Just as they were pulling out of the lot, he reached forward, shutting off the stereo.
Ryan frowned, but he kept his mouth shut, and Greg steeled himself.
“What about Colin?”
Ryan was quiet for a long moment, his fingers flexing anxiously around the steering wheel. He didn’t take his eyes off the road.
“What about him?”
Greg frowned. He was in no mood for games. “Did you tell him you came onto me the other night?” he said.
“Did you tell Chip?” Ryan shot back.
Greg frowned deeper. “No.”
Ryan didn’t need to answer.
This wasn’t going at all the way Greg had planned. He raked his fingers through his hair, his pompadour bouncing back with a merriment the rest of him failed to muster.
“What was that?” he finally asked, his hands dropping back into his lap, his voice almost embarrassingly soft. “Just—why?”
This time Ryan was quiet for so long that Greg was sure he wasn’t going to answer, but rather than prod him, Greg just watched as Ryan wet his lips, his knuckles white now where he clenched the wheel. He shot Greg a quick look before returning his gaze to the road.
“Curiosity,” Ryan said at last. He was silent another few seconds, sorting out the thoughts in his head. “There was a time...” he said slowly, “...years ago, back around when we first met, when I...I considered....” He trailed off, pressing his lips together. “But like you said, that was a long time ago. I’m with Colin. I love Colin. I always have. So this—“ He gestured between them with one hand, keeping his eyes on the road.
But rather than satisfy Greg’s own curiosity, Ryan’s answer was only proving to intensify it. “You felt the same,” he said. It was less a question than a realization, but Ryan only frowned deeper.
“Not going to happen, Greg.”
“But—I mean, we’re both curious—“
“Not going to happen.”
Greg jerked forward, his stomach leaping into his throat as Ryan slammed his foot on the break and eased the car to the curb before shifting into park. Greg blinked, his breath catching in his throat apprehensively as he turned to Ryan and finally met his eyes. Snow fell around them, melting on the windshield just as the wipers swept it away. For a moment, silence reigned behind the squeak of rubber on glass, then Greg turned away, trained his gaze on the slowly growing crust of ice just beyond the dashboard. He swallowed around a thick lump, feeling Ryan’s eyes boring into him.
“Greg,” Ryan said carefully, and there was something that almost seemed bridled anger underlaying each word. “We’re dropping this now. I’m with Colin, and you’re with Chip, and that’s not—“
“You said it yourself,” Greg said, stopping Ryan short. He looked back to him, frowning. “You can’t start a fire and just expect it to go out on its own.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “I was wrong.”
“I think,” Greg said, twisting in his seat now and ignoring it as Ryan unconsciously pulled back, “that maybe you’re not as happy with Colin as you like to pretend to be. I think you want to know what this—“ And now he was echoing Ryan’s actions from a moment ago, waving between them, and Ryan just looked angry. “—could have been just as much as—“
“Are you listening to yourself!?” Ryan shouted, and Greg slammed his mouth shut, flinching back. It had been a long time since he’s seen Ryan truly angry, and he forgotten how formidable he could be. “Chip,” Ryan continued, “your lover is hurt and you want to abandon him for a fucking game of ‘what if?’ Well, not me.” He jammed a thumb into his chest, his cheeks bright pink, breathing picking up. “I’m not willing to take that risk. I have something good going with Colin, and I’m not about to throw that all away because you like the way I touch your dick, so shut the fuck up and drop it!”
Greg stared at him. Ryan’s chest was heaving, his harsh breathing filling the SUV, shuddering breaths let out in time to the squeak of the wipers.
Time ticked by slowly, and Greg felt his heart settle back into his chest, and Ryan quieted down, his cheeks going from pink to white before he shook his head and turned to face front again, jerkily shifting back into drive and then pulling the car back onto the road.
“It’s not going to happen,” Ryan reiterated one last time.
“No,” Greg agreed, looking back out the window and longing for a cigarette. “It’s not.”
He thought that would be the end of it.