[FIC] By Invitation Only

[elevateneed.livejournal.com]

Title: By Invitation Only
Author: Elve
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Greg/Jeff, Greg/Ryan, Jeff/Ryan, hint of Jeff/Chip
Disclaimer: This is as real as me winning that Chocolate Factory Willy Wonka put me throught a series of moral tests for.
Summary: The foursome spend time in a bar, some discreet heavy petting ensues.
Note: Long time, no write. ;) I love feedback, and under that umbrella is constructive criticism too so please don't be afraid to give it, it only helps to improve!



Jeff sat back, feeling heavy against the taut red leather of their cushioned booth, listening to the gentle rumbling of too many voices packed into the bar, his own friends arguing loudly. He looked to Greg, huddled over a stubby glass of scotch, his dark eyes widened behind thick rectangular spectacles in furious disbelief. "You're completely wrong," he was saying to Ryan, who in turn rose from his purposefully cool demeanor to narrow the distance between them.

"I'm not wrong," he said, tone firm. His focus was dangerously sharp, but the slight smirk on his lips belied any appearance of real anger.

Jeff lifted his own curved glass, pressing the cool rim to his lips as he sipped, feeling entirely sated and content as he watched Greg regarding their rather tall friend for a moment, his mouth quirking in an irritated smile. "You're fucking with me," Greg said, waving a hand dismissively. "Fine, whatever. You just wanted to push my buttons."

Ryan shrugged, smirking openly. "Too easy," he murmured. "When you drink you get so passionate," he added, his words ambiguous.

"Oh, yeah, I get passionate don't I, Jeff?" Greg said, turning to him. Jeff could feel his warm breath on his cheek and smiled lazily into it. Greg's hand was already on his thigh, fingers kneading their way upwards. As quickly as it was there, the touch was gone, replaced with the table's hearty laughter. Until then Chip had been poised to diffuse another argument, hands clasped tentatively around his own drink. He was on Jeff's left, so that he felt him relax into the booth as he laughed, Chip's whole side connecting comfortably with his.

"I thought that argument was gonna go from nought to sixty," Chip spoke into his ear, trying to be heard over the din of the bar, but quiet enough for privacy between the two of them. Jeff merely nodded, rolling his shoulders as he felt another wave of tiredness hit him. Ryan and Greg were beginning to reminisce about an odd encounter with someone, their talking just as animated as before but both with huge grins this time. "I might go back to the hotel soon," Chip's voice interrupted his thoughts again. "I need my sleep."

Jeff reached out and patted his knee. "You need your sleep," he repeated back to him. Truth be told he was running more on auto-pilot, happy to be in company without giving any effort to socialise. He didn't realise his hand was still on Chip's knee, rooted like dead weight, until he felt it being patted in return. "Sorry," he mumbled, staring at Chip's slightly awkward smile.

"I'm gonna head off," Chip reaffirmed, then turning from Jeff he spoke the words again, loudly for the other two. Greg made a kind of disappointed noise, though he had barely spoken to him all evening. Jeff could understand why; Greg's cheeks were tinted with a rosy flush, his eyes bright and skin warm to the touch, having drunk enough to be adequately classified as 'merry'. Ryan clicked his tongue at Chip, but shrugged, standing to let him out from their booth, jovially patting him on the back as he passed. "See ya tomorrow," he drawled.

Jeff's side fell cold in the absence of Chip. He listened to Ryan and Greg drift back into their discussion, voices beginning to sound distant he could almost imagine it as some deranged lullaby, his eyelids growing heavy and exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him.

His mind jolted back into conscientiousness as a familiar touch came back to his thigh, his gaze shifting to Greg, and then to his hand, gently stroking Jeff's leg. He realized Ryan was no longer at the table. At first Greg's gaze was distant, then he turned to Jeff, his lips stretching in a lewd smile. "Are you tired?" he asked, leaning in to let his hot breath sweep over Jeff's skin once more. Jeff was surprised to find in lieu of a reply, his lips parted in a quiet whine, Greg's hand working up a slack between his jeans and waist to slip in.

"It would be nice if we had some fun together, wouldn't it?" Jeff felt teeth graze against his neck, a sly tongue dart out to taste him. He let his head fall back, agreeable to anything Greg would say, but not coherent enough to form the words. A shiver ran down his spine, his hips jumping before Greg's other palm tried to weight him down. "Let's keep quiet about this," Greg whispered and then, as Jeff had been feeling his entire body relent, the closeness was slipping away, Greg's hand sliding from his jeans back to his own lap, his ghosting breath turned casually away.

"Wait," Jeff sighed, his own breathing ragged. He wiped the back of his hand over his brow, clearing a fine sheen of sweat, his body strained with desire Greg had built up in him, now refusing to finish it. He tried to elucidate his thoughts, to ask why, when they were interrupted by the return of Ryan.

He placed three glasses on the table, sliding one to Greg who murmured thank you, and another to Jeff, who stared at it. "You look like shit," Ryan told him, an appraising gaze cast over the younger man, smile slipping onto his face. Jeff thought his eyes looked more appreciative than anything else. "Have a bad dream?"

"Huh?"

"When I left you were basically asleep." Ryan gestured to the new drink he had brought, "Let this be your one for the road."

"Yeah," Jeff nodded. He figured he'd nurse the pint of beer until his hard-on was gone, anyway. The icy layer of condensation was a welcome relief on his fingertips.

"This should be our last before we fuck off too," Greg suggested, dark eyes trained on Ryan. They shared a look. Jeff wondered if Ryan would be so friendly if he knew about Greg's wandering hands when his back was turned.

But then, he reasoned, how would Greg react if he found out Ryan had gotten there first?

The bespectled man rose, smirking down at Ryan and Jeff. "My turn to go to the mens room," he announced. Ryan's eyes followed him as he left, a pronounced carefulness in his walk, avoiding any stumbling. When he was out of sight, Ryan sidled up to Jeff, at first just watching him silently, a half-smile playing on his features. When Jeff made to take a sip of his drink, Ryan's hands caught his own and stopped him, instead turning Jeff's head to give him a quick peck on the lips. Ryan's eyes were dancing, his expression playful.

"One day you should join us," he said. Jeff wasn't sure he wanted that kind of intensity, it was nice on the sidelines. He nodded anyway.

Ryan glanced towards the direction Greg had gone. "We don't have long," his voice was smooth, confident, "but then again, he'll probably stop to buy cigarettes out the machine. You know how long it takes a drunkard to count change." Jeff let the words wash over him; he never argued, it was their hesitance, not his. He let Ryan run his fingers through his hair, splayed against the styled black mess. It was a brief preamble to a new hand returning to where Greg's had been.

"Half hard," Ryan commented. He sounded pleased.