[FIC] Sitting Out Dances

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

Title: Sitting Out Dances
Pair(?)ing: Ryan/Colin/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hot man sex. No plot beyond that at all. Seriously, this reads like a bad porn scenario.
Author’s Notes: This is inspired by a discussion that Lorena and I had, and was also something we both wanted to see in our Valentine's fic, amusingly enough. And yeah. *sighs* I've been writing too much smut lately. ^_^


“It’s almost amusing,” I say and pluck the cigarette Greg is offering from his outstretched fingers, “that he thinks we don’t know.”

I ignore the fact that we hadn’t known, not for sure, until about five minutes before when Greg had asked me, point blank, if I was sleeping with Ryan. I pat myself down, looking for my lighter before I remember handing it to Ryan just before the show, and I can’t help but laugh.

Greg doesn’t question the laughter; he just holds out his own lighter, and I take it gratefully. Sometimes I think he thinks I’m insane, and that’s okay.

“I’m sure he thinks we’d kill each other if we ever found out,” Greg says. He lifts his legs, propping them up on the table, crossed at the ankles. I echo the action. We’re both feeling a little cocky right now.

I shrug and hand Greg his lighter back. “Years ago, and he would have been right.”

Greg smirks. “Years…” he muses, not looking at me. “It really has been years, hasn’t it?”

I smile. “Four years come June.”

Greg gives me a speculative look. “Huh.” He twists a little in his seat to face me. “Let me guess: the fifteenth?”

“The sixteenth,” I reply, impressed. “How did you…?”

Greg smiles and takes a drag from his cigarette, turning away again. “He always gets guilty around the middle of the month.” There’s some residual bitterness in his voice, but he keeps smiling.

I study him, thinking hard, but there’s no single time that stands out in my memory, no dates, no strange presents with unsatisfactory explanations. I’m at a loss.

“I can’t…” I trail off, feeling stupid, like I’d missed something.

Greg isn’t smiling now. “We don’t really have an… anniversary.” And I think he might sound wistful.

I hate this. Greg is my friend, and he doesn’t deserve this. Before I have the chance to say as much, however, before I even open my mouth, Greg is continuing.

“He’s going to choose you.” He’s still not looking at me. “You’re going to tell him that we know, because,” he shrugs, “we have to, and he’s going to choose you.”

Damn it. “Greg, no—“

“No,” he shrugs again, attempting to smile at me. “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. I turn to face him as I stub out my cigarette, and he’s still clinging to his, letting the filter hover just inches in front of his lips, as though he’s not sure what will come out of his mouth unless he has a cigarette shoved in it.

“He was with you first,” I argue.

He shakes his head, almost looking at me. “You and he have a connection.”

“Greg…” I scoot closer and let my legs fall from the table before laying a hand on his thigh. I need to touch him, to reassure him. He looks like he might cry, and fuck, Greg doesn’t cry.

“He’s been with me for four years, and he still hasn’t left you,” I say. “I think that means something.”

“Seriously, Colin, it’s okay.” He’s miserable, but he means it. “You want me to back off? I’ll back off.”

No one has ever offered to do anything close to that selfless for me. I’d considered Greg a friend for some time, almost since the day we’d met, but this… this is too much. We should be fighting. He should hate me, and I him, but here he is giving up everything because he wants me to be happy.

For just a split second I hate Ryan for putting us in this position, but then it’s gone, and I think, had it been me, I wouldn’t be able to let Greg go so easily either.

And then I stop thinking altogether. I take my hand from Greg’s thigh to gently but firmly push his hand away from his face, get the cigarette out of the way. He sees me reaching for him and pulls back, looking disgruntled. “Look, Col, I don’t need your kumbaya, everything’s going to be all right bull shit—“

“Then it’s a good thing that’s not what I’m doing.”

I smile at him as I twist my fingers into his collar, and he suddenly gets it. He hesitates, smiles back, small and shaky, and then allows me to pull him forward and drops his cigarette in the tray on the table.

He crawls over top of me, pressing me back into the cushions. It reminds me of Ryan, and I have to wonder who plays the dominant role in that relationship.

He pauses just inches from my face, and I’m still clinging to him and smiling at him. He’s breathing in small, quick intakes of breath.

“What are you doing?”

“Planning,” I whisper against his lips.

“Planning?” he echoes, mostly sarcasm, though I can taste the hope just beneath.

I just nod and tug him down the fraction of an inch that would have us touching. Kissing Greg is nothing like what I would have imagined. He tastes bitterly of tobacco, but that’s where the bitterness ends. Somehow I’d always expected him to be rough, demanding, taking without giving in return, but the moment our lips meet he becomes almost docile.

He winds his arms beneath me, nearly lifting me off the couch in his desperation to be close. I love it. Ryan has a way about him where something as simple as brushing his knuckles across my cheek says what a thousand words cannot, but Greg speaks with his whole body. He’s all passion, clear and straight to the point. I find myself arching up into him, half hard and getting more turned on with every passing second. Where Ryan is restrained, quiet, every emotion shown clearly on his face, Greg is vocal, whining and panting and clutching at me.

I finally release his collar to sift my fingers through his hair. It’s soft and resilient and he makes another one of those small noises that goes straight to my groin.

Just then the door opens, and it takes me a moment to push Greg back. Even then he’s not letting go, and I can barely get him a foot from me before I turn and face the intruder.

It’s Ryan, of course.

I knew he was coming. Greg’s presence at my door had possibly pushed it from my mind, but deep inside I would have never forgotten something like a date with Ryan. Greg only seems surprised for a moment himself, and that’s when it hits me that the only reason Greg had come over this particular evening was because Ryan had broken their date to be with me. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.

Ryan steps inside and shuts the door without saying a word. There’s shock on his face, certainly, but no anger, and that’s what surprises me. He knows we know. I search his face, his stance, the way his hands clutch at the wood of the door, the way his leg bounces in that old, familiar nervous habit.

He likes this. Fuck that; he loves it. And this is it, the answer to his every problem, and we’re handing it to him on a silver platter.

As if on cue we turn to each other, Greg and I. It’s a question. I can still feel him, stiff against my stomach, and he smiles. Hell yes, we’re doing this.

Greg looks away to meet Ryan’s eyes. I watch them out of the corner of my eye and push myself up on my elbows to lick Greg’s neck. Greg’s mouth is open; he’s ready to call out to Ryan, but when my tongue touches his skin, all he can do is let out a soft, keening cry. It’s adorable. I’ve never thought of Greg as anything but a biting, sarcastic asshole, but this is just fucking adorable. His eyes slide shut, and he can only reach out a hand and beckon Ryan over wordlessly.

Ryan runs. He practically trips over his own feet, his long legs tangling in his haste to get to us. He drops to his knees just in front of the couch; his eyes are a dark forest green, half lidded with desire

He’s looking back and forth between us. I think for a moment that he’s going to kiss me, and I don’t want that right now. I shove him toward Greg, wanting to see if that would be as hot as it is in my mind. He doesn’t need much convincing. He takes Greg’s cheek in one large palm in a move that seems to shock Greg with its gentleness. He’s not used to this from Ryan, but he needs it, and then he’s kissing Ryan with a fierceness that would have me straining in my jeans if I hadn’t been already.

I latch onto Ryan’s neck and suck hard. Without thought he brings a hand to my neck, tracing my jugular with his thumb and then dipping down into the hollow of my throat, swerving along my collar beneath my shirt just the way I love.

Greg is really getting into the kiss now. He grinds down against me, and I lose my breath and arch back, arch into him, grip his hips and grind back. Ryan is laughing, deep and low in his throat. I want to feel him against me. I love his laugh, love to feel it seep into my skin.

There’s no room on this couch, but I need him right here against us right now. I let go of Greg long enough to fist one hand in Ryan’s shirt and drag him down. He needs no persuading; he clambers up, and we scoot as far back into the cushions as we can.

And then he’s there, hot against my side, kissing me and I’m letting him and oh, God, Greg is still above me doing something to my neck, his hair tickling my cheek. There are hands tugging off my shirt and delving into my pants, and I’m not sure who’s doing what, but I’m in no place to argue.

The next thing I feel is Greg’s bare chest against my back. He’s whispering along the shell of my ear, asking me something, I think, from the tone of his voice, and I just nod because meanwhile Ryan is trailing a hand down my chest and his length is hard alongside mine.

Greg disappears for a moment. I feel his loss like a physical pain. I’m cold where he once was, and even Ryan, kissing me softly, smiling and speaking words against my lips that I can’t even begin to try and understand doesn’t make up for the feel of Greg behind me, warm and safe.

When he returns, Ryan greets him with a kiss. This one is long, slow and absolutely luxurious. I have to smile at the pure love Greg is giving him and at the beautiful smile he gives me before he kisses me. He hands something to Ryan, and a moment later his breath catches, breaking our kiss delightfully. We part to watch Ryan slicking Greg’s erection.

Greg is half on top of me, half on Ryan at this point. I love the weight and the heat. I love how I feel surrounded by them, even though it’s Greg who’s in the middle at the moment. I’ve never felt anything like this in my life, and I can’t imagine how I ever lived without it.

And then I don’t need to think because Greg is squirming behind me, pressing two slick fingers inside me, speaking against my ear again before sliding down to press a kiss to the nape of my neck and bury himself deep inside me.

I can only groan, deep and guttural and buck against Ryan. Ryan’s hands are still slippery with lubricant when he catches my hips. He’s laughing again, and I can feel it this time. He’s breathing into my neck, and I sense it when Greg kisses him over my shoulder, and it just make everything that much more real. Greg brushes my prostate and I rip Ryan away from him because I need to kiss someone now; I need to let them know what they’re doing to me.

When I break away from Ryan, his slippery hand is over my erection. Oh, wait, God, yes, it’s over our erections. The head slips and bumps past mine, and his thumb swipes over them both before squeezing gently and sliding back down. All I can do is clutch Ryan’s hips and pull him tight to me, bury my head in the crook of his neck and let out a fucking mewl.

“You guys… you have to… this feels…”

Ryan is laughing again, and Hell, so is Greg, his breath washing warm over my neck, chest sliding along my back so I can’t even breathe, and they don’t know. But they will. I make a vow, half lost in lust, that I need to get both of them in this position as soon as possible.

It only takes a few more thrusts from Greg and another of those tight strokes from Ryan before I’m crying out, muffled into Ryan’s shoulder. And Greg is making more of those keening noises that I’ve already fallen in love with, pressing me forward, trapping me so he can kiss Ryan. I’m barely lucid, but I have the presence of mind to grip Ryan’s shaft and pull him once, twice while I pant into the sweat slicked skin of his neck. I don’t know who loses it first, but Ryan comes in his usual fashion, gripping my arms, breathing harsh and shallow, and Greg fucking moans into my neck, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if that sound alone got me hard again.

We spend the next few minutes just breathing in a weak attempt to regain a bit of ourselves. There’s a bit more shifting until Ryan is laid out beneath me, just where I like him, and Greg is at his other side, trapped against the back of the couch, head propped up in one hand. I look at him from where my cheek is pillowed on Ryan’s chest and smile.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ryan gets out around a grin of his own, and Greg and I absolutely burst out laughing.

I bury a bit more into Ryan’s side as my laughter subsides. Greg looks a little awkward, stiff, like he’s trying to keep his distance, and that’s just ridiculous. I reach across Ryan and rub my thumb over his bicep before steering him to lie down much the way I am, tucked into Ryan’s other side. He’s hesitant, but I’m persistent. I imagine they’re not much for cuddling, but Ryan accepts Greg into the embrace as though they’d always done this, and immediately Greg relaxes.

Ryan nudges me a little and I tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

“You’re not mad at me?”

I laugh again because how could I be anything but content after something like that, and tell him the truth. “I was a little disappointed at first, but no…” I look to Greg and my smile widens. “No, I’m not mad.”

“And you?”

I watch Greg as he turns to look at Ryan. He smiles, and I think it’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him in my life. All he says is “No.” It’s very soft, just above a whisper.

Ryan goes quiet after that, and Greg just closes his eyes and breathes, still smiling slightly. This was fantastic, but that doesn’t mean it will ever happen again. Both Ryan and Greg are too stubborn and too scared to ask, so it’s up to me.

“Ryan?” I say. I look to him again, but his eyes are closed.

“Mm?”

“I want to break up.”

Ryan’s eyes shoot open. I can see Greg do the same out of the corner of my eye, but I just continue to look at Ryan. He looks lost, nearly devastated. The arm around Greg tightens, looking for help, for comfort, and Greg actually obliges, opening his mouth to protest, so I hurry on.

“I don’t want to be a couple anymore. I want to be…” And here I’m at a loss. I laugh and look to Greg. “What the fuck are we?”

Greg blinks at me, and then very slowly a smile spreads across his face. “I don’t have a fucking clue.” He jerks his head up to look at Ryan, too, now and his grin widens. “I want to break up, too. I want both of you or nothing.”

So I look back to Ryan, still smiling, and when Ryan meets my eyes I say softly. “Both of you. What do you say?”

The lost look is still there, but he’s smiling, bright and beautiful. He lets out a laugh, and I know Greg can feel it as well as I can. Ryan leans his head back, shaking his head.

“I think you’re both fucking nuts. But yeah.” He looks to me and then to Greg. “Let’s do this.”

And that’s all I need to hear. I settle back into Ryan’s side, feeling lethargy taking over me. Greg is doing the same on Ryan’s other side, and the sight of him, smiling sleepily reminds me of something.

“Greg?” I whisper, half muffled into Ryan’s chest.

He blinks tiredly, still smiling. “Colin?”

“Remember today,” I tell him. “It’s our anniversary.”

End.