[FIC] Let Go

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

Title: Let Go
Author: Clay
Pairing: Ryan/Colin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Colin could feel Ryan moving, squirming until he, too, was slumped into the couch, leaning slightly into him.
Author’s Notes: Thank so much to my beta, zekkass and also to kalimyre for the inspiration and encouragement. ^_^
Word Count: 3,056



Colin leaned his head against the back of the couch and stared at the stippled white ceiling. Ryan’s beer was cold in his hands, chilling him despite the warmth of the night. It had been years since he’d been in Ryan’s home, much less his garage, and he’d forgotten how nice it was. There was the slightest breeze coasting off the driveway, leaving them awash in the smell of pine and car exhaust.

“I’m glad you came.”

Colin attempted a nod, but his head felt heavy and just barely moved. He smiled a little tiredly and closed his eyes. “Well, I have a couple weeks off, and I was already here, so it just makes sense.” He paused, just breathing. There was a squashy, lived in feel to this couch that made him want to take it home with him. He burrowed into the cushions, breathing deeply, and caught a new scent, something like cinnamon but not quite. Someone was burning leaves down the street. He opened his eyes, and his smile faded. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Ryan snorted, and Colin turned as much as his lethargy would allow to see Ryan sipping his own beer and staring out across the garage. “That sounds so formal,” he said once the beer was once again settled comfortably in his lap. He was smiling but still not meeting Colin’s eyes.

And despite the silence that settled over them, Colin couldn’t help but feel even more at home. He shifted slightly until his thigh just brushed Ryan’s and leaned back, closing his eyes again.

“We should do this more often,” Ryan said after another minute had passed.

“Maybe if you would return my calls...” Colin replied around a chuckle.

Ryan drank deeply from his beer, and then left it settled just below his lips. His voice sounded eerily hollow. “I can never think of anything to say.”

Colin just nodded. They’d been out in the garage ever since dinner ended, and they’d spoken more words in the past few minutes than in the past hour, each content just being with the other. Perhaps they’d finally run out of things to say.

Oddly enough, that thought was rather heartening. Colin couldn’t think of one single other person with whom he could just sit and feel so perfectly at ease.

“I miss your voice,” he said, lifting his own beer, letting his breath blow over the lip of the bottle but not drinking.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. He sounded as though he were frowning. Colin shifted closer, pressing their legs together. His arm brushed Ryan’s.

“Do you want to do something?”

Colin mustered up the strength to shake his head. “No.”

“Good. Me neither.”

Colin could feel Ryan moving, squirming until he, too, was slumped into the couch, leaning slightly into him. His breathing was slow and steady. Condensation trickled over Colin’s fingers, and he sipped his beer, almost having forgotten he was holding it.

Laughter filtered in through the open garage door and then the crunch of gravel.

“Ryan?” Pat called out.

Colin started and opened his eyes. Pat was leaning into the garage through the narrow door that opened into the kitchen, one hand on the frame, the other dangling a pair of keys. Ryan didn’t move.

“I’m taking Mac to Sara’s house. Sam is watching Claire. You two going to be all right?”

Ryan grunted some indistinct affirmative, and Colin just smiled. Pat laughed and grinned back.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

When Ryan didn’t answer, Pat just shook her head, still smiling. “Don’t let him fall asleep out here,” she told Colin.

Colin nodded, nudging Ryan with his elbow affectionately. “We were on a bus for four hours today,” he said. “I’ll be lucky if I can keep my own eyes open.”

She laughed again, lingering at the door and looking for all the world like she had a million things to say, none of which she could put into words. “Be good,” she came out with eventually, and then, after another moment, turned and left. Colin watched her retreating back.

Only after the sound of the car’s engine faded, once the fumes had dissipated on the wind, did Ryan speak again.

“I miss Deb sometimes.”

Colin smiled and looked to him quizzically. “Do you really?”

Ryan gave a slight nod and opened his eyes, looking out across the lawn through the half open garage door. An SUV blaring some strange rap/metal amalgamation screamed past the house. After it was out of sight, there was the screech of tires and then laughter. A moment later it was racing back the way it had come, headlights flooding Ryan’s lawn for half a second before it disappeared.

“Mm.” Ryan downed the rest of his beer. He held the neck of the bottle and lifted it up for inspection. “Never met a woman who could curse like that.”

Colin laughed and nodded. “Still does.” He felt a sudden surge of love for his wife, for her sheer vitality. He smiled as a memory surfaced and found himself laughing again. “The last time I was home,” he said, “we had Pat and Janis over, and Deb got the bright idea to–“

“Do you ever wish things were different?”

The irritation at being interrupted was immediately overwhelmed by the seriousness of Ryan’s tone. He was still staring out over the grass, his mouth drawn out in a line across his face, the corners tilted down slightly.

Colin blinked at him and then smiled, saying, “If you’re going to say that you wish you had made a move on Deb...” He let the sentence hang, hoping for a laugh or even just a hint of a smile from Ryan. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know where he was really going with this.

But Ryan just shook his head, frown deepening. “No. I wish I had never met her.” He drank in a deep breath and turned to Colin. “I wish we had never met her.”

Colin shivered. The words brought back a half hidden memory, waking in the middle of the night, hard and aching with one thing on his mind, but that was a long time ago. Ryan’s body, still settled so comfortably against his own suddenly felt foreign, and Colin felt that he was missing something important here.

“Ryan?” he said. He remembered the first time he had seen Deb, the strength of her, how she was unlike any woman he’d ever met. “What–“

“You know what? Never mind.” Ryan put on a very forced smile and nodded to Colin’s beer. “You want another?”

“I...” Colin frowned and stared him, meeting Ryan’s eyes, and for the first time he couldn’t read the thoughts behind them. “No. I’m still...” He lifted the bottle, showing off the liquid sloshing about inside.

“Give it here, then.” Ryan reached out and wrapped long fingers over Colin’s, around the bottle, and his hand was overly warm. “If you’re not going to drink it–“

“No, I am.” Colin pulled back, but Ryan wasn’t letting go.

“I need a drink.”

“But the...” Colin looked helplessly toward the refrigerator on the other side of the garage. He didn’t like the mounting anger in Ryan’s voice or the way his grip tightened, crushing his fingers against the glass.

“Please,” Ryan nearly growled. “I need this.”

“But...” For one impossibly long second their gazes held, and then Ryan’s hand loosened. He didn’t let go completely or back away. Colin relaxed. “All right.”

He released the bottle, and it dropped, bouncing off his thigh before hitting the carpet with a muffled thud. There was the hiss of foam and a rush of liquid, and Ryan was still watching him, his hand settled over Colin’s loose fist.

Colin licked his lips. Ryan was half turned, leaning forward, eyes still locked with Colin’s. “I’m sorry,” Colin said very quietly.

Ryan’s hand trembled over Colin’s, and he pressed his thumb into Colin’s skin, sliding down over his palm, tracing the heart line. He smiled shakily. “No, that was my fault. I was...” He swallowed; his adams apple bobbed, drawing Colin’s eyes. Ryan leaned forward unconsciously, propping his elbow on the back of the couch and threading his fingers through his hair. “I was thinking.”

Colin followed the movement with his eyes, the strain of tendons leading away from Ryan’s wrist. He twisted until he was facing Ryan properly, brought up his free hand and ghosted one finger over faint blue veins. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look away from the task at hand. He traveled back up the vein, and Ryan laid his arm over the back of the couch, soft, pale skin facing outward, fingers slightly curled.

“Col...”

When Colin finally looked up, Ryan was much closer. His eyes were dark, shadowed, the pupils large and obscure. He licked his lips, and Colin thought for a moment that Ryan was going to kiss him.

“Col...” he said again, tilting his head to one side, lips turned up in the smallest of smiles.

He remembered the first time he had gone on stage with Ryan, locking himself in a stall of the club’s restroom afterward, jerking off, half bent, forehead pillowed against his upraised forearm, braced against the door, peeling turquoise paint scratching his skin, adrenaline forcing his hand.

And then Ryan was pulling back, sitting up and laughing weakly. “We’re being weird,” he muttered to himself, carding his hand through his hair again. He let go of Colin’s hand and leaned back against the couch, grinning indistinctly at the ceiling.

“Fuck it.”

Ryan had only a moment to register the words, to sit back up and turn curiously toward him before Colin darted forward, cupping both hands around the back of Ryan’s neck, thumbs pressing into this jaw. He didn’t let himself think when he yanked Ryan down, barely registered the surprise and hope in the split second before he kissed him.

Ryan responded immediately, opening up to him, grunting low in his throat and letting out a shuddering breath through his nose. Ryan’s open palms spread out against Colin’s chest, pushing him back, down, until his head hit the cushion.

And then Ryan was over him, straddling his hips, a fluid string of curses whispered against Colin’s lips before they were kissing again. Colin could feel Ryan, hard against his belly, and he hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t remembered wanting this in nearly thirty years, but now he was twenty years old again, and everything that had come to pass since then no longer mattered.

Ryan’s hand was at the lip of his jeans, fingers fumbling at the button, and there was something wrong. There were reasons they couldn’t. Not anymore.

And Colin said as much, rearing back as much as space would allow, fighting Ryan’s weight with a resolve that wasn’t nearly as strong as it should have been. There were reasons: Ryan’s son, just inside, his baby daughter, a wife who could return any moment.

“Shut up,” Ryan growled, lips wet against Colin’s cheek. “It’s just sex,” he said. “Just sex.”

That should have made it worse, should have had Colin shoving him away, running away, but then Ryan had his jeans open, had one hand wrapped around him, the other tucked beneath Colin’s shoulders, his forehead resting against his neck. “Oh, God,” Ryan breathed, and the words were lost in the hollow of Colin’s throat. And then Colin couldn’t think for the strong, sure fingers doing things he hadn’t even allowed himself to dream.

He couldn’t breathe, gave up, gave in, wrenched Ryan’s head back up to kiss him again, tiny, high pitched half breaths panted into his open mouth.

His hands slipped down over Ryan’s neck, along his shoulders. He wound his fingers into the pliant cotton of Ryan’s t-shirt and pressed his lips into a thin line to find silent release at Ryan’s hand. He sucked in one deep breath, only letting it out when his lungs began to hurt from the strain. The tension in his shoulders melted away, and Colin slumped back into the cushions.

Ryan was still over him, covering him. There was the chink and swish of a belt being undone, and Colin just stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling, Ryan’s forehead having found his neck once more. More rustling, and then Ryan was touching himself. His knuckles brushed Colin’s stomach with each stroke; there was a hitch and then a hiss of breath.

“Let–“ Colin cut himself off. Ryan tensed at the sound of his voice, and even he cringed, hating it, knowing he couldn’t speak. He was breaking some unspoken rule.

So he just reached both hands out, replacing Ryan’s, feeling the unfamiliar ridges of another man for the first time. There was too much friction, and he had the presence of mind to spit into his open palms before attempting again, and then Ryan had both arms wrapped around his shoulders, something akin to a sob leaving him, breathed into Colin’s shirt, and it was so unlike anything Colin had ever heard from him that it left him stilled, scared, for just a moment before Ryan was thrusting into his fists, urging him, cursing again in barely distinguishable words against his throat. He came with a whimper, and Colin had to wonder once more who this man was and where Ryan had gone.

They lay like that for minutes, with Ryan heavy now that he lacked the strength to prop himself up any longer, his breathing harsh.

Eventually he coughed and then arched back, sliding his arms out from beneath Colin to sit up. “I need a cigarette,” Ryan said by way of explanation, not looking at him as he climbed off the couch, heading over to the flimsy card table where his pack sat.

“Get me one?” Colin asked.

He stared at his hands, covered in another man’s semen, and wanted to laugh at how normal his voice sounded. A shadow fell over him, and Colin looked up into Ryan’s eyes, but he couldn’t stay there. He lowered his gaze to the grease stained towel in Ryan’s hands and took it without a word.

“I thought you quit,” Ryan said very quietly once he’d handed it back, offering a cigarette now.

Colin nodded and licked his lips. He took the cigarette, suddenly calmed by the familiarity, the feel of it between his lips. Ryan offered a light, a flickering flame inches from his face, and Colin leaned into it eagerly.

When Pat returned, they were sitting side by side on the couch once more, halfway through their second cigarettes. Ryan had instinctively sat close enough that they touched, and Colin had leaned into it. She merely called out a greeting, crossing to the front door with little more than a glance in their direction.

Colin blew out a breath of smoke and pulled his cigarette from his lips, twisting it this way and that, watching the cherry flare in the breeze. He slid his tongue across the ridge of his teeth and wished Ryan smoked menthol. “Are we going to talk about that?”

Ryan jerked his head, just once. “No.”

“Right. Okay.”

Ryan was nodding slowly now. He slouched in his seat, denim clad thigh swiping along Colin’s. The hand that held his cigarette was shaking, hovered just inches from his mouth, burning to ash, forgotten.

Colin looked to him for the first time in minutes. “Is that going to happen again?”

Ryan’s eyes flickered to him briefly, and then away again, out across the garage at God know what. “I don’t know.”

Colin nodded. “Maybe I should go.”

“No!” Ryan tensed, swung to look at him properly. The shaking was getting worse. “Don’t go. Just... don’t.”

“What’s...” Colin started but then closed his mouth, fought to keep from biting his lip. He had questions, but they weren’t going to talk about it. That was fine. He could deal with that. Instead he reached across Ryan to brace one hand on the armrest, mindful to keep his cigarette angled upward, and leaned in. He didn’t kiss Ryan, just touched their foreheads, and Ryan finally stopped shaking. He settled both wrists on Colin’s shoulders, and Colin imagined he could feel the dust of ashes over his shirt. “We’re okay, right?” Colin asked, his lips just touching Ryan’s.

Unthinkingly, Ryan kissed him, a quick, soft press of lips. “Yeah,” he breathed, and left it at that.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” Colin told him, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave, not yet, not ever. He lingered, eyes shut, hearing Ryan swallow, feeling his hands curl into fists, catching the seams of Colin’s shirt.

“You’re going to be here in the morning.”

And Colin almost smiled. It was a demand, no doubt, but the uncertainty, the slight lilt of the last word left it sounding closer to a plea. He nodded jerkily. “Yes. I am.”

“Good,” Ryan said, if only for the need to say something. “Good.”

And he should have been getting up, going back into the house proper, but Ryan was right there, still breathing through slightly parted lips, and Colin couldn’t resist kissing him one more time. But then he jerked back, stumbled across the garage to stub out his cigarette in the tray on the table. He went to the door leading inside. The handle turned smoothly in his hand.

He hesitated then, eyes on the three inch gap of the open doorway. He didn’t want to look at Ryan, didn’t want to see him right now, couldn’t see him right now. But he could never help himself. So he turned his head, slowly, hating himself for his weakness all the while.

Ryan was slumped on the couch, trembling once more. His head was dropped into his hands, cigarette stubbed out, a black smear on the white concrete.

Fuck.

Colin looked through the gap again. There was the muted sound of a television in some distant room, the slap of bare feet over polished wood. Colin’s hand hesitated on the door knob for another moment where all he could hear, all he could feel was the pounding of blood in his ears, and then he pulled the door shut once more and turned to face Ryan.

End
01/27/06