[fic] Before the Dawn 6/13
Jan. 31st, 2008 09:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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wl_fanfictionTitle: Before the Dawn
Author: Clay
Pairings: Ryan/Colin, Greg/Chip, Ryan/Greg, Colin/Jeff
Rating: NC-17!!
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: 3,991
All Chapters
Chapter 6
“Shit!” Greg jerked away from Ryan without a backwards glance and scrambled up the stairs, nearly falling twice. He heard the scrape of glass on wood, and in the back of his mind, Greg remembered Ryan at the bottom of the staircase, imagined him picking up the bottle, perhaps taking it upon himself to clean the mess, but Greg couldn’t think of that now and easily pushed it from his mind as he reached the landing.
Chip was hobbling toward their bedroom, desperate to escape, but in his haste, he stepped hard on his bad foot and cried out again, practically crumpling against the wall, his fingers scrabbling for purchase.
“Chip!” Greg called, reaching him and looping his arms around the other man’s waist from behind in an effort to steady him, but adrenaline seemed to override the pain, and Chip drew himself up, twisting in Greg’s arms and then shoving at his chest.
Greg almost let go, startled at Chip’s strength, but then he surged forward again, tightening his grasp.
“Chip,” he begged, “please—“
“No!” Chip screamed, startling Greg into nearly releasing him again. “No! Fuck you! Fuck—“ He cut off with a choking sob, balling his hands into fists and pounding at Greg’s chest, and Chip was strong, and it fucking hurt, but Greg continued to hold him, breathing in deep, strained breaths through his mouth.
“Please,” Greg begged again, almost inaudible beneath Chip’s cries. “Please let me explain.”
“Explain!?” Chip jerked his head up, glaring, and Greg saw tears streaking his cheeks. On instinct, he raised a hand, wanting to wipe the tears away, but Chip reared back, swung his arm and slapped Greg across the face.
Greg let him go.
“Explain?” Chip yelled again as Greg took a step back, raising his fingers to his own throbbing cheek now. “You were kissing him, Greg! How do you explain that? How!?” His voice broke suddenly around a shuddering gasp, and when he spoke again, it was quiet, desperate, hopeful. “Explain it to me.” And now he was pleading. “Why?”
Greg stared at him. Pins pricked behind his eyes, and he couldn’t lie anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Rage welled up in Chip again in an instant, and he drew himself up. “Sorry? You’re sorry!?” His voice raised until he was yelling once more; at the far end of the corridor a door opened, Drew’s pale face peering out from the darkness as Chip threw one arm out to point down the stairs. “How long has this been going on, Greg?”
“It—it’s not—“ Greg tried again, but he wasn’t sure he could explain this, not without breaking Chip further. “We—“ Greg sighed heavily, raking both hands through his hair and closing his eyes, wracking his brain. The only thing that came to him was the truth.
“We were curious,” he said at last, and Chip fell silent, waiting. Greg kept his eyes screwed shut, dipping his head as he pressed on. “I used to have feelings for Ryan,” he said slowly, carefully, “and I made the mistake of letting him know.”
“How long?” Chip said again. Suddenly his voice was calm, too calm and icy cold.
Greg cringed, refusing to meet Chip’s eyes. “The hospital,” he said quietly. “I told him at the hospital.”
Chip laughed, the sound high and slightly off. “That long? So everything you said that night...and you’ve been fucking him ever since?”
“No!” Greg’s head shot up, and he stared at Chip, met his eyes and held them in a silent plea. “No,” he said again, softer now, moving forward. Chip didn’t stop him, though fury was still bright in his eyes. “We never—it’s not like that. We talked. We just talked, and we only kissed one time, just now. That’s it. That’s as far as it went. That’s the worst of it, I promise.”
Chip was still watching him incredulously, but there was hope wavering in his gaze, and Greg grabbed onto it, clung to it and pushed forward.
“I love you,” he said, lifting his hands to cradle Chip’s cheeks. Chip gave a soft, hitching sob, unconsciously pressing into the touch, his eyes filling with tears once more. “I love you, and I want to be with you.” He paused and thought back to the day before, to the kitten and the calender and how he’d gotten Drew and Jeff to distract Chip while he... “It’s our anniversary today.”
Chip stilled. The slightest smile touched his lips, unbidden even as his eyes narrowed warily. “You remembered?”
Greg smiled back, nodding. He couldn’t lose Chip. Chip was good, safe; Chip loved him, and even if a part of him was still wondering, still longing for Ryan, the events of the past week—the games and the mind fucks—were fresh wounds and the logical part of him had a red flag up, warning him away from temptation. Chip was like a light in the darkness...even if Greg still craved the black.
“I did,” he said on a breath. “And I—in town yesterday—“ he cut himself off with a shake of the head and held up one finger, backing away. “I’ll be right back.”
Greg took off at a jog, heading back into the bedroom and digging through the pockets of the slacks he’d worn that day. He pulled out his quarry with a deep, steadying breath and then made his way back into the hall. He came to a halt in front of Chip, a simple, black-coated cardboard box in his hands. As Chip watched, he ripped the lid off, flinging it aside along with a layer of gossamer cotton. He drew out the contents, tossing the packaging away completely now, and raised his hand. A heavy, golden herringbone chain gleamed under the hall lights, flowing over his fingers like water.
“You got me something,” Chip said faintly, his voice heady with disbelief.
“I did,” Greg said, breathing out a soft chuckle. “Here.” He reached out, and Chip stilled, watching him dubiously as he allowed Greg to fasten the chain around his neck. It settled against his bare chest, shining against his skin, and Chip looked down at it, lifting it gingerly. He frowned softly.
“So please,” Greg said. He got down to his knees, taking Chip’s free hand in both of his and looking up into his face. “Forgive me. It’s you I want, and it’s you I love. I swear to you, Chip.”
The slightest hint of doubt remained in Chip’s eyes, but he gave a short nod and whispered, “I forgive you.” He lifted a hand and stroked Greg’s cheek, his frown deepening. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Greg heaved a sigh of relief, nodding and climbing to his feet again and taking Chip’s face between his hands, “I won’t,” he said breathlessly. “I swear to you, I’m right where I want to be.”
He hesitated just a moment before leaning in and kissing Chip hungrily. Chip kissed him back, mewling softly, too torn and weary to fight something he wanted anyway. Chip’s hands came up to twist in Greg’s shirt and tug him close. Greg could feel the seams biting into his shoulders, but he only pulled Chip closer, needing to make this right. Needing to forget. He pressed closer still to Chip, slipping his hands down Chip’s back to rest along the curve of his ass. When Chip only responded by pressing closer himself, Greg gave a mental nod.
He had to give himself to Chip completely. It was the only way to make things right, to get past this.
“Fuck me,” he whispered against Chip’s mouth.
Chip blinked at him, slowly comprehending the words, and Greg lowered his head, nipping at the smooth column of Chip’s throat. “Fuck me. Make me yours.”
“Oh,” was all Chip said, his brow still furrowed in confusion, and then he was pushing Greg away, but in the next instant he had worked his way around him and shoved him forward against the wall. Greg’s hands flew up, palms hitting the wall with a solid smack, and he pressed his forehead to the cool paint as Chip came up behind him, raising up to lap at the side of his neck and then reaching around to take Greg’s flaccid penis in a firm grasp.
Chip was still upset, harried with doubts, but as he massaged Greg through his boxers—Greg forcing away the thought that the roughness only served to remind him of Ryan—it coaxed Greg’s cock to life, lengthening and hardening beneath Chip’s hand. And Chip responded in kind, whimpering softly into Greg’s shoulder, the sound muffled into the cotton of his t-shirt.
“Oh, God—“ Greg choked out, curling his fingers against the paint, feeling it scrape away, splintering off painfully beneath his nails, and Chip thrust against him, his own erection bourgeoning.
“Fuck me,” Greg begged. He turned his eyes, catching Chip’s, still angry though dark with lust. “I love you.”
“Shut up,” Chip ground out, ripping his gaze away and placing a hand against his back, shoving him hard again until he was almost flush against the wall. Then Chip was tugging down Greg’s boxers, followed quickly by his own sweat pants, and his cock was pressing—hot and hard—against Greg’s bare ass. Greg’s dick gave a twitch, precum leaking from the tip.
“Fuck me,” Greg demanded now, despite his order to be quiet. He bowed his head and braced his hands against the wall. He listened as Chip spat into his hand, the blood throbbing in his wrists and temples.
And then Chip was thrusting into him up to the hilt in one go, and Greg groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain, arching up and throwing his head back, trying to swallow against a sudden loss of breath. “Oh, fuck. God, yes, fuck me—“
“Shut up,” Chip growled. He took Greg’s hips in his hands, pulling out until only the head rested inside Greg and then slamming back in. He found a hard, fast and completely unforgiving rhythm, missing Greg’s prostate more often than not, but the slap of skin on skin drove Greg higher, and the feel of Chip’s balls tapping against the curve of his ass had Greg grunting, clawing at the paint again.
And then Chip slipped his hand around to Greg’s front again, stroking at his lower belly before taking his cock in his hand and fisting it in tight, dry strokes, and God, it hurt, but it pushed everything else from his mind, pleasure spiking wonderfully amidst the pain, and soon Greg was grunting, spattering come over the wall with a deep groan. Chip continued to thrust into him, then shoved in one last time, burying himself within Greg and coming himself, biting down on Greg’s shoulder to muffle a keening cry before collapsing against him, boneless, with a muttered, “Shit.”
Greg bore their weight, leaning heavily against the wall. The chill of the night washed over him with a sudden immediacy. The skin of his thighs tightened, goose bumps raising along the surface as fine hairs stood out against the cold. Greg let out a breath. He felt sick.
The click of a door closing had him turning his attention down the hall, immediately alert, but it wasn’t Drew having retreated into his room. No, Drew’s face was still visible in the crack between the door and jamb, and Greg considered flipping the pervert off with a smirk save one thing. Drew was frowning; his eyes were on another door, the one straight across the hall from Greg and Chip’s room.
Ryan. They hadn’t even heard him ascend the stairs or make his way past them. Greg screwed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the wall.
Chip moved back then, cringing and taking the weight off his bad foot. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the stupidity of his actions was hitting him along with a pain sharp enough to take his breath away. He wavered on the spot as Greg turned and slipped an arm around his waist, supporting him.
“Come on. Let’s sit down.”
Chip gave a jerky nod; they righted themselves as best they could before settling into the plush carpet and leaning back against the wall, Chip mindlessly leaning into Greg’s side as he joined him and then smiling slightly when Greg’s arm stole around him automatically. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly.
Greg frowned and nodded, looking out across the hall, his eyes being drawn to Ryan’s door of their own accord. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied at last, licking his lips thoughtfully. “It’s just...sometimes...Chip?” Chip looked to him, and their eyes met and held in silence for a moment. Greg wanted to tell him the truth. “There are some things that won’t leave your system no matter how hard you try.”
Chip frowned. His hands curled in his lap, and he ducked his head, but Greg was back a moment later, tilting his face up with two fingers pressed beneath his chin. “But,” he said once he’d regained Chip’s full attention, “then there are things that are more important than stupid games of what if and...and if something hasn’t happened by now, it’s for a reason, right? I’m with you. I want to be with you, and I’m sorry.”
Chip continued to watch him for a moment. He lay a hand on Greg’s thigh, stroking the fine hairs absently, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, carrying a hard edge Greg had never heard before. “I don’t know if I can believe you. So where does that leave us?”
Greg sighed. He pulled Chip in tight again, closing his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “But we’ll find out together.”
* * *
Colin rested his back against the door, his eyes closed, listening as Chip’s screams turned into grunts, and those were almost drowned out by the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. He twisted his face in mild disgust. “I really don’t need to hear that.”
He had been talking to himself, needing to hear something else, needing to take his mind off what was going on in the hall, so he gave a violent jerk when someone actually answered.
“That’s why I don’t do relationships. Way too fucking messy.”
Colin squinted through the darkened room. Jeff was a fuzzy, pale shape in his bed, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. Colin shook his head and pushed away from the door, waiting for the shock to wear off and for his heart to stop thumping in his chest. “You scared me,” he said, low, forcing a smile, and in the dark, Jeff shrugged.
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew this was my room.”
That gave Colin pause. He had been bending down to lift his forgotten suitcase and take it to the second bed, but now he stopped, his fingers just brushing the leather hand hold, and met Jeff’s eyes even as his own continued to adjust.
“Yes,” he said carefully. “Do you mind if we share tonight?”
Jeff didn’t answer straight away; he didn’t even move, just watched Colin curiously. Colin ducked his head, hefting his suitcase if only for something to do.
“Ryan and I,” he started by way of explanation. “We...it’s over.”
“Huh,” came Jeff’s response at last, and Colin wanted to roll his eyes at the absolutely intelligence of it. “Yeah,” Jeff continued, waving toward the bed. “Uh, go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Colin mumbled. He carried his suitcase to the empty bed and set it down to rummage through the mishmash of clothing for something he could wear to bed. He felt Jeff’s eyes on him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but he continued to work, outwardly unfazed, and the silence stretched, so he spoke again to break the tension.
“I’ll be gone tomorrow. This is just a temporary thing. I’m going to go. I’ll get a taxi. Maybe I’ll rent a car back to L.A....or something. So thank you. I’ll be out of your way soon.” He was rambling, he knew, but Jeff still wasn’t speaking, just watching him, and now bumps were prickling across his arms as he stripped. He preferred to sleep in the nude, and he had, in fact, neglected to pack anything to wear to sleep for the fact, but he was sure he’d come up with something. “I want to get home before Ryan,” he continued, simply thinking aloud now. “I need to get some things out of our...out of his house. I’ll get a hotel room, I guess. I have to find an apartment. I hate L.A. Maybe I’ll move.”
“Do you want a drink?”
Colin jerked his head up, blinking. He was stripped down to his briefs now, his t-shirt balled in his hands and twisted into a nervous knot.
Jeff was holding up a half empty bottle of peach schnapps that must have been stashed beneath his bed or the night stand. Jeff swished it absently, and even in the dim light, Colin swore he saw Jeff’s gaze drift down, eyeing his package through the thin cotton of his underwear. He felt a blush burn his cheeks and looked away.
“You drink too much,” he said softly.
Jeff chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s easier than being sober. So. Do you?”
Colin sighed. He gave up trying to find a pair of sleep pants that didn’t exist and lifted the case, moving it off the bed and setting in on the floor. “No, thank you,” he said, pulling back the covers and climbing into bed.
Jeff nodded, humming thoughtfully, then uncapping the liquor and taking a healthy swig before placing the bottle on the floor by his bed.
“You’re better off without him,” Jeff said, worming his way back beneath the covers himself.
Colin snorted and rolled onto his side, watching him. “I’m sure I’m going to hear that a lot. It doesn’t make this any easier.”
“No,” Jeff agreed. He propped his head up in one hand and watched Colin back, a light smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “But you’re strong. You’re amazing. And you’ll get through this.”
“Will I,” Colin muttered, more just to say something than an actual question.
Jeff was silent for a moment. He continued to watch Colin, the smile slipping from his lips, and then, when Colin was sure he had fallen asleep, he whispered, “You have me.”
Colin frowned. “Jeff....” Jeff just shook his head and turned onto his back, shutting his eyes. Colin sighed and tried a different tactic. “I thought you didn’t do relationships.”
Jeff snorted wryly. “I don’t,” he conceded. “There’s no point.” He turned his head ever so slightly, meeting Colin’s eyes in the dark. “After all, I’m already in love.”
Colin frowned, and Jeff closed his eyes again.
* * *
It rained the next morning, though it could have been sleet; Greg wasn’t sure. He found himself staring out his bedroom window again, wondering absently where this new habit had come from. But beyond the wondering, he noticed that the yard that had glittered so merrily just days ago was now a murky sea of ice and snow, shining dully under the gray sky. Snow dripped from the distant trees in large, wet clumps, and Greg shivered.
It was nearing noon, and he still hadn’t left his room. Over the past hour footfalls had crossed his door time and again, but no one had stopped to check in on them; there had been no call for breakfast, and Greg wasn’t quite sure who else was up and about, nor what the group had planned for the day if anything.
Chip shifted in the bed; Greg was sure he was being watched as he stood at the window, being studied, though Chip hadn’t said a word in some time.
They’d made love that morning, far gentler than the previous evening, and Chip had given Greg his present afterward. It gleamed on his wrist now, far brighter than the ice and snow outside, a bracelet made of small onyx beads.
Chip had slipped it on a few hours earlier with a wistful smile. “It reminded me of you,” he’d said, eyes locked on Greg’s wrist. “Like one of those black plastic bracelets you used to wear when we first met. Just nicer.”
Greg had twisted his arm about, watching the black stones glimmer in the dull morning light.
“Onyx is a protection stone,” Chip had continued after a moment, raising his eyes to Greg’s. He smiled a little sheepishly and reached out to stroke the bracelet as he continued. “The woman behind the counter said it helps you become the master of your own fate. It’s a grounding stone; it helps to clear your head...sort things out.” His smile became a little curious then as he leaned over to kiss Greg on the cheek. “She said it was good for ending bad relationships.”
Greg had swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and forced himself to smirk back. “Must be for you, then.”
And while Chip just rolled his eyes, smirking back, Greg couldn’t help but see the hint of doubt hidden in their depths.
The bracelet hung heavy on his wrist now, the stones cold, almost uncomfortably so.
“Greg?” Chip called suddenly.
Greg turned his head, watching Chip for a moment before smiling slightly. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Greg’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but then it was back, more brilliant than before, and he moved to stand by Chip, who sat adorably rumpled beneath the sheets. He bent down, taking Chip’s hands in his.
“I love you, too.”
* * *
“We’re taking Colin out,” Drew told Greg through the bathroom door once he’d finally mustered the will to brave the rest of the house if only for the sake of his bladder, “to get his mind off things. Do you want to join us? You and Chip, I mean?”
Greg shook his dick off and tucked himself away, shaking his head as he stepped over to the basin. “Nah. We’re just going to spend the day in bed, I think. Chip’s foot is hurting him pretty badly after last night. I think he wants his meds, and then he’s going back to sleep.”
“Oh,” was all Drew said, so Greg pulled the door open with a confused smile, raising an eyebrow and then leaning against the doorframe, watching him.
Drew had his face turned down, and he worried his lower lip absently in the way he only did when something was really bothering him, but Greg just chuckled at the sweet sight he made and laid a hand on his back. Drew’s head popped up like an eager puppy, and Greg rubbed his back soothingly.
“Chill, big guy,” he said, giving Drew a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine.”
Drew nodded slowly, but then—with a start—he reached out, catching Greg’s sleeve just as he was moving away.
“Yeah, but Greg—“
“I don’t want to hear it!” Greg danced out of reach, holding a hand up and still smiling warmly. He started for the stairs. “I’ve got to take care of my boy. You stop worrying your pretty little head and just have fun.”
Drew watched him go, his mouth hanging open slightly, and then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck at the onset of what could only be a migraine.
“...but Ryan’s staying...” he finished to himself. He wondered for a moment what sort of bloodshed he, Jeff and Colin would return to, but then, after what he’d witnessed last night, maybe this was a good thing. The air needed to be cleared if they had any hopes of working past this. Drew heaved another sigh and headed off to get dressed, praying he was doing the right thing.
Author: Clay
Pairings: Ryan/Colin, Greg/Chip, Ryan/Greg, Colin/Jeff
Rating: NC-17!!
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: 3,991
All Chapters
“Shit!” Greg jerked away from Ryan without a backwards glance and scrambled up the stairs, nearly falling twice. He heard the scrape of glass on wood, and in the back of his mind, Greg remembered Ryan at the bottom of the staircase, imagined him picking up the bottle, perhaps taking it upon himself to clean the mess, but Greg couldn’t think of that now and easily pushed it from his mind as he reached the landing.
Chip was hobbling toward their bedroom, desperate to escape, but in his haste, he stepped hard on his bad foot and cried out again, practically crumpling against the wall, his fingers scrabbling for purchase.
“Chip!” Greg called, reaching him and looping his arms around the other man’s waist from behind in an effort to steady him, but adrenaline seemed to override the pain, and Chip drew himself up, twisting in Greg’s arms and then shoving at his chest.
Greg almost let go, startled at Chip’s strength, but then he surged forward again, tightening his grasp.
“Chip,” he begged, “please—“
“No!” Chip screamed, startling Greg into nearly releasing him again. “No! Fuck you! Fuck—“ He cut off with a choking sob, balling his hands into fists and pounding at Greg’s chest, and Chip was strong, and it fucking hurt, but Greg continued to hold him, breathing in deep, strained breaths through his mouth.
“Please,” Greg begged again, almost inaudible beneath Chip’s cries. “Please let me explain.”
“Explain!?” Chip jerked his head up, glaring, and Greg saw tears streaking his cheeks. On instinct, he raised a hand, wanting to wipe the tears away, but Chip reared back, swung his arm and slapped Greg across the face.
Greg let him go.
“Explain?” Chip yelled again as Greg took a step back, raising his fingers to his own throbbing cheek now. “You were kissing him, Greg! How do you explain that? How!?” His voice broke suddenly around a shuddering gasp, and when he spoke again, it was quiet, desperate, hopeful. “Explain it to me.” And now he was pleading. “Why?”
Greg stared at him. Pins pricked behind his eyes, and he couldn’t lie anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Rage welled up in Chip again in an instant, and he drew himself up. “Sorry? You’re sorry!?” His voice raised until he was yelling once more; at the far end of the corridor a door opened, Drew’s pale face peering out from the darkness as Chip threw one arm out to point down the stairs. “How long has this been going on, Greg?”
“It—it’s not—“ Greg tried again, but he wasn’t sure he could explain this, not without breaking Chip further. “We—“ Greg sighed heavily, raking both hands through his hair and closing his eyes, wracking his brain. The only thing that came to him was the truth.
“We were curious,” he said at last, and Chip fell silent, waiting. Greg kept his eyes screwed shut, dipping his head as he pressed on. “I used to have feelings for Ryan,” he said slowly, carefully, “and I made the mistake of letting him know.”
“How long?” Chip said again. Suddenly his voice was calm, too calm and icy cold.
Greg cringed, refusing to meet Chip’s eyes. “The hospital,” he said quietly. “I told him at the hospital.”
Chip laughed, the sound high and slightly off. “That long? So everything you said that night...and you’ve been fucking him ever since?”
“No!” Greg’s head shot up, and he stared at Chip, met his eyes and held them in a silent plea. “No,” he said again, softer now, moving forward. Chip didn’t stop him, though fury was still bright in his eyes. “We never—it’s not like that. We talked. We just talked, and we only kissed one time, just now. That’s it. That’s as far as it went. That’s the worst of it, I promise.”
Chip was still watching him incredulously, but there was hope wavering in his gaze, and Greg grabbed onto it, clung to it and pushed forward.
“I love you,” he said, lifting his hands to cradle Chip’s cheeks. Chip gave a soft, hitching sob, unconsciously pressing into the touch, his eyes filling with tears once more. “I love you, and I want to be with you.” He paused and thought back to the day before, to the kitten and the calender and how he’d gotten Drew and Jeff to distract Chip while he... “It’s our anniversary today.”
Chip stilled. The slightest smile touched his lips, unbidden even as his eyes narrowed warily. “You remembered?”
Greg smiled back, nodding. He couldn’t lose Chip. Chip was good, safe; Chip loved him, and even if a part of him was still wondering, still longing for Ryan, the events of the past week—the games and the mind fucks—were fresh wounds and the logical part of him had a red flag up, warning him away from temptation. Chip was like a light in the darkness...even if Greg still craved the black.
“I did,” he said on a breath. “And I—in town yesterday—“ he cut himself off with a shake of the head and held up one finger, backing away. “I’ll be right back.”
Greg took off at a jog, heading back into the bedroom and digging through the pockets of the slacks he’d worn that day. He pulled out his quarry with a deep, steadying breath and then made his way back into the hall. He came to a halt in front of Chip, a simple, black-coated cardboard box in his hands. As Chip watched, he ripped the lid off, flinging it aside along with a layer of gossamer cotton. He drew out the contents, tossing the packaging away completely now, and raised his hand. A heavy, golden herringbone chain gleamed under the hall lights, flowing over his fingers like water.
“You got me something,” Chip said faintly, his voice heady with disbelief.
“I did,” Greg said, breathing out a soft chuckle. “Here.” He reached out, and Chip stilled, watching him dubiously as he allowed Greg to fasten the chain around his neck. It settled against his bare chest, shining against his skin, and Chip looked down at it, lifting it gingerly. He frowned softly.
“So please,” Greg said. He got down to his knees, taking Chip’s free hand in both of his and looking up into his face. “Forgive me. It’s you I want, and it’s you I love. I swear to you, Chip.”
The slightest hint of doubt remained in Chip’s eyes, but he gave a short nod and whispered, “I forgive you.” He lifted a hand and stroked Greg’s cheek, his frown deepening. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Greg heaved a sigh of relief, nodding and climbing to his feet again and taking Chip’s face between his hands, “I won’t,” he said breathlessly. “I swear to you, I’m right where I want to be.”
He hesitated just a moment before leaning in and kissing Chip hungrily. Chip kissed him back, mewling softly, too torn and weary to fight something he wanted anyway. Chip’s hands came up to twist in Greg’s shirt and tug him close. Greg could feel the seams biting into his shoulders, but he only pulled Chip closer, needing to make this right. Needing to forget. He pressed closer still to Chip, slipping his hands down Chip’s back to rest along the curve of his ass. When Chip only responded by pressing closer himself, Greg gave a mental nod.
He had to give himself to Chip completely. It was the only way to make things right, to get past this.
“Fuck me,” he whispered against Chip’s mouth.
Chip blinked at him, slowly comprehending the words, and Greg lowered his head, nipping at the smooth column of Chip’s throat. “Fuck me. Make me yours.”
“Oh,” was all Chip said, his brow still furrowed in confusion, and then he was pushing Greg away, but in the next instant he had worked his way around him and shoved him forward against the wall. Greg’s hands flew up, palms hitting the wall with a solid smack, and he pressed his forehead to the cool paint as Chip came up behind him, raising up to lap at the side of his neck and then reaching around to take Greg’s flaccid penis in a firm grasp.
Chip was still upset, harried with doubts, but as he massaged Greg through his boxers—Greg forcing away the thought that the roughness only served to remind him of Ryan—it coaxed Greg’s cock to life, lengthening and hardening beneath Chip’s hand. And Chip responded in kind, whimpering softly into Greg’s shoulder, the sound muffled into the cotton of his t-shirt.
“Oh, God—“ Greg choked out, curling his fingers against the paint, feeling it scrape away, splintering off painfully beneath his nails, and Chip thrust against him, his own erection bourgeoning.
“Fuck me,” Greg begged. He turned his eyes, catching Chip’s, still angry though dark with lust. “I love you.”
“Shut up,” Chip ground out, ripping his gaze away and placing a hand against his back, shoving him hard again until he was almost flush against the wall. Then Chip was tugging down Greg’s boxers, followed quickly by his own sweat pants, and his cock was pressing—hot and hard—against Greg’s bare ass. Greg’s dick gave a twitch, precum leaking from the tip.
“Fuck me,” Greg demanded now, despite his order to be quiet. He bowed his head and braced his hands against the wall. He listened as Chip spat into his hand, the blood throbbing in his wrists and temples.
And then Chip was thrusting into him up to the hilt in one go, and Greg groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain, arching up and throwing his head back, trying to swallow against a sudden loss of breath. “Oh, fuck. God, yes, fuck me—“
“Shut up,” Chip growled. He took Greg’s hips in his hands, pulling out until only the head rested inside Greg and then slamming back in. He found a hard, fast and completely unforgiving rhythm, missing Greg’s prostate more often than not, but the slap of skin on skin drove Greg higher, and the feel of Chip’s balls tapping against the curve of his ass had Greg grunting, clawing at the paint again.
And then Chip slipped his hand around to Greg’s front again, stroking at his lower belly before taking his cock in his hand and fisting it in tight, dry strokes, and God, it hurt, but it pushed everything else from his mind, pleasure spiking wonderfully amidst the pain, and soon Greg was grunting, spattering come over the wall with a deep groan. Chip continued to thrust into him, then shoved in one last time, burying himself within Greg and coming himself, biting down on Greg’s shoulder to muffle a keening cry before collapsing against him, boneless, with a muttered, “Shit.”
Greg bore their weight, leaning heavily against the wall. The chill of the night washed over him with a sudden immediacy. The skin of his thighs tightened, goose bumps raising along the surface as fine hairs stood out against the cold. Greg let out a breath. He felt sick.
The click of a door closing had him turning his attention down the hall, immediately alert, but it wasn’t Drew having retreated into his room. No, Drew’s face was still visible in the crack between the door and jamb, and Greg considered flipping the pervert off with a smirk save one thing. Drew was frowning; his eyes were on another door, the one straight across the hall from Greg and Chip’s room.
Ryan. They hadn’t even heard him ascend the stairs or make his way past them. Greg screwed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the wall.
Chip moved back then, cringing and taking the weight off his bad foot. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the stupidity of his actions was hitting him along with a pain sharp enough to take his breath away. He wavered on the spot as Greg turned and slipped an arm around his waist, supporting him.
“Come on. Let’s sit down.”
Chip gave a jerky nod; they righted themselves as best they could before settling into the plush carpet and leaning back against the wall, Chip mindlessly leaning into Greg’s side as he joined him and then smiling slightly when Greg’s arm stole around him automatically. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly.
Greg frowned and nodded, looking out across the hall, his eyes being drawn to Ryan’s door of their own accord. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied at last, licking his lips thoughtfully. “It’s just...sometimes...Chip?” Chip looked to him, and their eyes met and held in silence for a moment. Greg wanted to tell him the truth. “There are some things that won’t leave your system no matter how hard you try.”
Chip frowned. His hands curled in his lap, and he ducked his head, but Greg was back a moment later, tilting his face up with two fingers pressed beneath his chin. “But,” he said once he’d regained Chip’s full attention, “then there are things that are more important than stupid games of what if and...and if something hasn’t happened by now, it’s for a reason, right? I’m with you. I want to be with you, and I’m sorry.”
Chip continued to watch him for a moment. He lay a hand on Greg’s thigh, stroking the fine hairs absently, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, carrying a hard edge Greg had never heard before. “I don’t know if I can believe you. So where does that leave us?”
Greg sighed. He pulled Chip in tight again, closing his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “But we’ll find out together.”
Colin rested his back against the door, his eyes closed, listening as Chip’s screams turned into grunts, and those were almost drowned out by the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. He twisted his face in mild disgust. “I really don’t need to hear that.”
He had been talking to himself, needing to hear something else, needing to take his mind off what was going on in the hall, so he gave a violent jerk when someone actually answered.
“That’s why I don’t do relationships. Way too fucking messy.”
Colin squinted through the darkened room. Jeff was a fuzzy, pale shape in his bed, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. Colin shook his head and pushed away from the door, waiting for the shock to wear off and for his heart to stop thumping in his chest. “You scared me,” he said, low, forcing a smile, and in the dark, Jeff shrugged.
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew this was my room.”
That gave Colin pause. He had been bending down to lift his forgotten suitcase and take it to the second bed, but now he stopped, his fingers just brushing the leather hand hold, and met Jeff’s eyes even as his own continued to adjust.
“Yes,” he said carefully. “Do you mind if we share tonight?”
Jeff didn’t answer straight away; he didn’t even move, just watched Colin curiously. Colin ducked his head, hefting his suitcase if only for something to do.
“Ryan and I,” he started by way of explanation. “We...it’s over.”
“Huh,” came Jeff’s response at last, and Colin wanted to roll his eyes at the absolutely intelligence of it. “Yeah,” Jeff continued, waving toward the bed. “Uh, go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Colin mumbled. He carried his suitcase to the empty bed and set it down to rummage through the mishmash of clothing for something he could wear to bed. He felt Jeff’s eyes on him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but he continued to work, outwardly unfazed, and the silence stretched, so he spoke again to break the tension.
“I’ll be gone tomorrow. This is just a temporary thing. I’m going to go. I’ll get a taxi. Maybe I’ll rent a car back to L.A....or something. So thank you. I’ll be out of your way soon.” He was rambling, he knew, but Jeff still wasn’t speaking, just watching him, and now bumps were prickling across his arms as he stripped. He preferred to sleep in the nude, and he had, in fact, neglected to pack anything to wear to sleep for the fact, but he was sure he’d come up with something. “I want to get home before Ryan,” he continued, simply thinking aloud now. “I need to get some things out of our...out of his house. I’ll get a hotel room, I guess. I have to find an apartment. I hate L.A. Maybe I’ll move.”
“Do you want a drink?”
Colin jerked his head up, blinking. He was stripped down to his briefs now, his t-shirt balled in his hands and twisted into a nervous knot.
Jeff was holding up a half empty bottle of peach schnapps that must have been stashed beneath his bed or the night stand. Jeff swished it absently, and even in the dim light, Colin swore he saw Jeff’s gaze drift down, eyeing his package through the thin cotton of his underwear. He felt a blush burn his cheeks and looked away.
“You drink too much,” he said softly.
Jeff chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s easier than being sober. So. Do you?”
Colin sighed. He gave up trying to find a pair of sleep pants that didn’t exist and lifted the case, moving it off the bed and setting in on the floor. “No, thank you,” he said, pulling back the covers and climbing into bed.
Jeff nodded, humming thoughtfully, then uncapping the liquor and taking a healthy swig before placing the bottle on the floor by his bed.
“You’re better off without him,” Jeff said, worming his way back beneath the covers himself.
Colin snorted and rolled onto his side, watching him. “I’m sure I’m going to hear that a lot. It doesn’t make this any easier.”
“No,” Jeff agreed. He propped his head up in one hand and watched Colin back, a light smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “But you’re strong. You’re amazing. And you’ll get through this.”
“Will I,” Colin muttered, more just to say something than an actual question.
Jeff was silent for a moment. He continued to watch Colin, the smile slipping from his lips, and then, when Colin was sure he had fallen asleep, he whispered, “You have me.”
Colin frowned. “Jeff....” Jeff just shook his head and turned onto his back, shutting his eyes. Colin sighed and tried a different tactic. “I thought you didn’t do relationships.”
Jeff snorted wryly. “I don’t,” he conceded. “There’s no point.” He turned his head ever so slightly, meeting Colin’s eyes in the dark. “After all, I’m already in love.”
Colin frowned, and Jeff closed his eyes again.
It rained the next morning, though it could have been sleet; Greg wasn’t sure. He found himself staring out his bedroom window again, wondering absently where this new habit had come from. But beyond the wondering, he noticed that the yard that had glittered so merrily just days ago was now a murky sea of ice and snow, shining dully under the gray sky. Snow dripped from the distant trees in large, wet clumps, and Greg shivered.
It was nearing noon, and he still hadn’t left his room. Over the past hour footfalls had crossed his door time and again, but no one had stopped to check in on them; there had been no call for breakfast, and Greg wasn’t quite sure who else was up and about, nor what the group had planned for the day if anything.
Chip shifted in the bed; Greg was sure he was being watched as he stood at the window, being studied, though Chip hadn’t said a word in some time.
They’d made love that morning, far gentler than the previous evening, and Chip had given Greg his present afterward. It gleamed on his wrist now, far brighter than the ice and snow outside, a bracelet made of small onyx beads.
Chip had slipped it on a few hours earlier with a wistful smile. “It reminded me of you,” he’d said, eyes locked on Greg’s wrist. “Like one of those black plastic bracelets you used to wear when we first met. Just nicer.”
Greg had twisted his arm about, watching the black stones glimmer in the dull morning light.
“Onyx is a protection stone,” Chip had continued after a moment, raising his eyes to Greg’s. He smiled a little sheepishly and reached out to stroke the bracelet as he continued. “The woman behind the counter said it helps you become the master of your own fate. It’s a grounding stone; it helps to clear your head...sort things out.” His smile became a little curious then as he leaned over to kiss Greg on the cheek. “She said it was good for ending bad relationships.”
Greg had swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and forced himself to smirk back. “Must be for you, then.”
And while Chip just rolled his eyes, smirking back, Greg couldn’t help but see the hint of doubt hidden in their depths.
The bracelet hung heavy on his wrist now, the stones cold, almost uncomfortably so.
“Greg?” Chip called suddenly.
Greg turned his head, watching Chip for a moment before smiling slightly. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Greg’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but then it was back, more brilliant than before, and he moved to stand by Chip, who sat adorably rumpled beneath the sheets. He bent down, taking Chip’s hands in his.
“I love you, too.”
“We’re taking Colin out,” Drew told Greg through the bathroom door once he’d finally mustered the will to brave the rest of the house if only for the sake of his bladder, “to get his mind off things. Do you want to join us? You and Chip, I mean?”
Greg shook his dick off and tucked himself away, shaking his head as he stepped over to the basin. “Nah. We’re just going to spend the day in bed, I think. Chip’s foot is hurting him pretty badly after last night. I think he wants his meds, and then he’s going back to sleep.”
“Oh,” was all Drew said, so Greg pulled the door open with a confused smile, raising an eyebrow and then leaning against the doorframe, watching him.
Drew had his face turned down, and he worried his lower lip absently in the way he only did when something was really bothering him, but Greg just chuckled at the sweet sight he made and laid a hand on his back. Drew’s head popped up like an eager puppy, and Greg rubbed his back soothingly.
“Chill, big guy,” he said, giving Drew a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine.”
Drew nodded slowly, but then—with a start—he reached out, catching Greg’s sleeve just as he was moving away.
“Yeah, but Greg—“
“I don’t want to hear it!” Greg danced out of reach, holding a hand up and still smiling warmly. He started for the stairs. “I’ve got to take care of my boy. You stop worrying your pretty little head and just have fun.”
Drew watched him go, his mouth hanging open slightly, and then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck at the onset of what could only be a migraine.
“...but Ryan’s staying...” he finished to himself. He wondered for a moment what sort of bloodshed he, Jeff and Colin would return to, but then, after what he’d witnessed last night, maybe this was a good thing. The air needed to be cleared if they had any hopes of working past this. Drew heaved another sigh and headed off to get dressed, praying he was doing the right thing.
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