[Series] After Hours 25
We're ba-aa-aack! *g* Thanks to Clay for writing the Greg/Ryan sex scene!!!
TITLE: After Hours
PART: 25
Authors: makingamochrie, anesthesiagirl and special guest sexer, clayangel
RATING: NC-17 for mansmut
PAIRING: Ryan/Greg, Ryan/Colin
DISCLAIMER: All AU all the time. No facts here. FICTION.
Ryan slammed Greg up against the wall, grinning when his only reaction was a long, low breath through clenched teeth and a deep flush that rapidly darkened his throat and cheeks.
"Miss me much?" Greg only half joked, the words rough, almost a whisper.
Ryan's answering chuckle was little more than a deep vibration in his chest, traveling across his skin and over Greg’s where they were pressed flush together. He felt his body respond to the hint of desperation in Greg’s tone, a warmth that washed down his entire body, heating him, thickening his already half hard cock.
He pushed his hips forward, grinding Greg back against the wall and feeling him respond in kind.
Greg let out another breath, involuntarily thrusting back against him. “I guess so,” he said around a sudden, soft intake of breath as their growing erections brushed through the confines of cotton and denim.
Ryan grunted, low, continuing to grind against him in slow, measured thrusts, dragging each out, bending low to rake a line of biting kisses down the column of Greg’s neck until they were both short of breath and thrumming with need.
“Take these off,” Ryan said, just short of demanding, already unhooking the thick, black belt around Greg’s waist with practiced ease.
“You got it, man.”
Before Greg even had a chance to finger the dull, metal fastener of his slacks, Ryan had the belt out and raised before him. He folded it, pulled it taut with a resounding smack, and Greg jerked his head up, meeting Ryan’s eyes and mirroring his smirk.
“Seriously, man,” Greg said, shoving his pants down as Ryan ditched the belt and slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of his soft, violet boxers. “Something’s up with you. Something’s different.”
Ryan shrugged, a lazy roll of his shoulders, smirk still firmly in place as he freed Greg’s erection. It sprang up invitingly, and Ryan couldn’t help but to wrap his fingers around the shaft and pump it twice in teasingly slow strokes.
“Had a good day,” he murmured, lifting his eyebrows as he met Greg’s eyes again, daring him to keep asking questions.
Greg, never one to back down from a challenge, obligingly opened his mouth, and Ryan tightened his fist. All that came out was a low growl, Greg’s hand darting forward to squeeze Ryan’s firm biceps.
“Hold that thought,” Ryan whispered, biting back another chuckle.
He backed off slowly, eyes on Greg’s darkened, weeping cock and unhooking his jeans as he went, shoving them down around his thighs. Preparation was habit, rolling on a condom and slicking it with a large dollop of lubricant, not once taking his eyes’s off Greg’s familiar shaft and the way he had taken to toying with himself in Ryan’s absence, teasing one finger across the slit to trail wetness down and around the crown. As Ryan watched, Greg slid his hand down further, two fingers now, feather light against the length of his shaft, cupped his own balls and rolled them, pressing his thumb into the dip between his testicles and tugging gently, grunting low.
Ryan could feel Greg’s eyes on him and looked up, his smirk turning almost predatory as he met Greg’s dark, shining eyes and encircled his own shaft in a maddeningly loose fists, moving up and down along every familiar ridge as a slow burn started deep in his belly. It only grew stronger, brighter, under Greg’s hungry gaze and with each pass of his hand.
“You should have good days more often,” Greg murmured almost too low for Ryan to hear now, and Ryan shucked off his jeans, stepped out of them and padded back across the room, never once taking his eyes from Greg’s.
He stopped just inches in front of him, watched him for a moment before a small, genuine smile flitted across his lips.
“Would you please shut up,” he muttered affectionately and then took Greg’s hips, spun him and pressed him against the wall. He could feel the shiver of anticipation rush through the other man as he slid his still slick fingers down the crease of his ass then dipped inside without preamble.
Greg grunted softly, pushing back, needing more. After so many years, preparation was foreplay rather than a necessity, and soon Ryan was aligning himself with Greg’s entrance and pushing inside with one long, smooth push. Greg grunted again against his upraised arms, pressing his forehead to the overly warm flesh and Ryan took his hips and leaned forward, catching the skin along the back of his neck and shoulders between his teeth in quick, gentle bites-his hips perfectly still- until Greg was practically trembling beneath him, cursing and begging a long diatribe that had Ryan smiling.
Sex was unhurried, and Greg’s cursing only grew more intensified with frustration, but Ryan refused to give in to him, to his own needs. It had been a while, and he took the time to refamiliarize himself with each inch of flesh wrapped tight around his cock, with each breath and groan and twitch of muscle. It may not have been what Greg wanted, but Ryan had learned that what a client wanted and what they needed were sometimes ballparks apart, and besides, he had no doubt that the man’s orgasm would be that much better for drawing it out.
Still, even he had his limitations, and after only a few more minutes, he suddenly slammed into Greg in earnest, shifting his hips up and his angle down, sure to drag against his prostate with each thrust and earning a long, keening howl for his trouble.
After that it was quick work bringing Greg off. Ryan grabbed his thick shaft tight and peppered the skin along his back in bites-not hard enough to break skin or even really hurt, just a twinge of the slightest pain that he knew went straight to Greg’s crotch.
Greg groaned, loud and long, bucking his hips back against Ryan’s and then going completely still, sinking his teeth into his arm, holding his breath as an orgasm wracked his body. He clenched around Ryan’s shaft, unbearably tight, and it was almost too much to keep going, to keep sinking in and pulling out of Greg’s heat. Ryan came hard, his breath shuddering his entire body, fingers digging into Greg’s hips, forehead pressed to his sweat slicked neck.
Greg struggled to breathe as Ryan’s climax-weakened body pinned him neatly to the wall, damn near crushing his chest. After a long moment, Ryan’s softened cock slipped free and he stepped back, releasing the pressure on Greg as he efficiently stripped the condom from his body and tossed it in the nearby trashcan. Then, with a burst of strength that never failed to shoot a thrill through the smaller man, he neatly lifted Greg’s sated body behind the knees and shoulders, pivoted and walked to the bed, where he deposited him gently.
“Well, King Kong,” Greg cracked, straightening his fogged glasses and grinning up at his friend, “what can Fay Wray do for you this evening?”
“Nothing he hasn’t already done,” Ryan replied, coming to lay down beside him, allowing their bodies to touch all along their lengths. “That was nice.”
“I’ll say.” Turning to his side, Greg propped his head on his hand and idly traced through the sweat coating Ryan’s smooth, warm skin. “So, I’ll ask again. What got into you today, huh?” At the tiny smile that flitted unconsciously across Ryan’s face, Greg smirked and nodded knowingly. “Ah. Tall, pasty and bald, huh?”
The smile morphed into a frown, but Ryan relaxed when he realized his friend was just ribbing him. “Yeah,” he admitted after a moment.
Greg’s hand ghosted in the area of Ryan’s nose. “Got a little sunburn there. Out worshipping the mother goddess in the middle of freaking winter?”
“Sailing, actually. It’s windburn. I think.” Ryan touched his own nose and drew his hand back, hissing. “Ouch. Didn’t even know I had it.”
“Sailing, huh?” Greg said, leering. “Nice boat?”
“Fuck yeah. Gorgeous.”
Greg laughed, that loud, spontaneous, wonderful laugh that always had Ryan smiling. “The boat? Or her skipper?”
Ryan shot him a pair of narrowed eyes, then chuckled. “He let me sail her, Greg. It was…man. I get the attraction now. So free. So…in the moment.” Realizing he was coming damn close to actually waxing poetic, he flushed and looked down. “You know what I mean.”
Grinning, Greg patted Ryan’s belly before reaching for a cigarette. “I do, actually,” he said, lighting up and taking in that first, deep, post-coital drag. Where would sex be without cigarettes, he wondered idly. “He must have really trusted you to let you take the helm.”
Ryan blinked, having obviously not thought about that particular scenario. “Yeah,” he said in a tone that had a touch of wonder in it. “He must have, huh?”
“Uh-yeah. I know people who won’t even let someone else row their dinghy.” He snorted. “Um….”
Filching Greg’s cigarette, he took in a drag and shook his head.
“So,” Greg asked casually-maybe too casually-“when’re you gonna stop this lay for pay thing and take up courting the dude you really dig?”
Ryan once again turned narrowed eyes toward his friend. This time, there was real heat in his gaze. “I enjoy what I do for a living, Greg. I have no reason or desire to give it up. Besides, there are plenty of people I ‘really dig’.”
“Yeah? People who let you sail their yachts on a whim? Ones you smile just thinking about?”
Ryan shrugged, some of his anger dissipating. “You fall into that category.”
“Well, as flattered as I am by that, Ry-guy, if you were to start courting me, I’d probably puke, so you can put that one in the ‘do not recycle’ bin and leave it there.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to give up what I do, but I’d like to see Colin more often. He’s…we’re…it’s just cool being around him. We have more in common than I thought we did. It’s…nice.”
“Nice.”
“You got a problem with that?”
“Who, me?” Greg grabbed his cigarette back. “No problem, man. No problem at all.” He took a drag and snorted. “Nice.”
“You’re a bastard, you know that?”
“And you like me that way.”
Ryan sighed. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“So, I was thinking….” There went that casual thing again.
“And….?”
“You know we’ve got another Just for Laughs coming up in a few weeks, right?”
“I think I remember hearing something about it, yeah.”
“Well…I want you to come out on stage with me.”
“No,” Ryan said, shaking his head violently. “Nuh uh. No way, Jose. No. Period.”
“Aw, c’mon, Ry! You’re good! You’re really good! The audience would love you, and I think you’d dig it, too. You did when we did it at the bar, remember?”
“Big difference between some hick bar and a huge venue, Greg.”
Greg shrugged. “A gig’s a gig, Ryan.” An idea came, and Greg smirked. “Besides, since he’s the biggest sponsor, Colin’s gonna be there again. You told me he showed a bit of talent himself. Maybe we could, you know, finagle him out on stage with us. For kicks.”
Ryan’s eyebrows rose, and he started one of his slow grins. “For kicks, huh?”
“Sure! Why not, huh? Dude pays that much money to sponsor this thing, might as well let him have a little of the action, you know?”
“He’d kill us both. You know that, right?” But Ryan was still smiling.
“Yeah, but it’d be worth it.” Greg waggled his brows as he crushed out his cigarette. “So, what do you think?”
Ryan laughed to himself, imagining. “What the fuck. Let’s do it.”
“Alright!” Greg crowed triumphantly. He got up on his knees and crawled sensually over to where Ryan lay. “This calls for a celebration.”
Actually, it wound up calling for three.
Neither complained.
*******
TITLE: After Hours
PART: 25
Authors: makingamochrie, anesthesiagirl and special guest sexer, clayangel
RATING: NC-17 for mansmut
PAIRING: Ryan/Greg, Ryan/Colin
DISCLAIMER: All AU all the time. No facts here. FICTION.
Ryan slammed Greg up against the wall, grinning when his only reaction was a long, low breath through clenched teeth and a deep flush that rapidly darkened his throat and cheeks.
"Miss me much?" Greg only half joked, the words rough, almost a whisper.
Ryan's answering chuckle was little more than a deep vibration in his chest, traveling across his skin and over Greg’s where they were pressed flush together. He felt his body respond to the hint of desperation in Greg’s tone, a warmth that washed down his entire body, heating him, thickening his already half hard cock.
He pushed his hips forward, grinding Greg back against the wall and feeling him respond in kind.
Greg let out another breath, involuntarily thrusting back against him. “I guess so,” he said around a sudden, soft intake of breath as their growing erections brushed through the confines of cotton and denim.
Ryan grunted, low, continuing to grind against him in slow, measured thrusts, dragging each out, bending low to rake a line of biting kisses down the column of Greg’s neck until they were both short of breath and thrumming with need.
“Take these off,” Ryan said, just short of demanding, already unhooking the thick, black belt around Greg’s waist with practiced ease.
“You got it, man.”
Before Greg even had a chance to finger the dull, metal fastener of his slacks, Ryan had the belt out and raised before him. He folded it, pulled it taut with a resounding smack, and Greg jerked his head up, meeting Ryan’s eyes and mirroring his smirk.
“Seriously, man,” Greg said, shoving his pants down as Ryan ditched the belt and slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of his soft, violet boxers. “Something’s up with you. Something’s different.”
Ryan shrugged, a lazy roll of his shoulders, smirk still firmly in place as he freed Greg’s erection. It sprang up invitingly, and Ryan couldn’t help but to wrap his fingers around the shaft and pump it twice in teasingly slow strokes.
“Had a good day,” he murmured, lifting his eyebrows as he met Greg’s eyes again, daring him to keep asking questions.
Greg, never one to back down from a challenge, obligingly opened his mouth, and Ryan tightened his fist. All that came out was a low growl, Greg’s hand darting forward to squeeze Ryan’s firm biceps.
“Hold that thought,” Ryan whispered, biting back another chuckle.
He backed off slowly, eyes on Greg’s darkened, weeping cock and unhooking his jeans as he went, shoving them down around his thighs. Preparation was habit, rolling on a condom and slicking it with a large dollop of lubricant, not once taking his eyes’s off Greg’s familiar shaft and the way he had taken to toying with himself in Ryan’s absence, teasing one finger across the slit to trail wetness down and around the crown. As Ryan watched, Greg slid his hand down further, two fingers now, feather light against the length of his shaft, cupped his own balls and rolled them, pressing his thumb into the dip between his testicles and tugging gently, grunting low.
Ryan could feel Greg’s eyes on him and looked up, his smirk turning almost predatory as he met Greg’s dark, shining eyes and encircled his own shaft in a maddeningly loose fists, moving up and down along every familiar ridge as a slow burn started deep in his belly. It only grew stronger, brighter, under Greg’s hungry gaze and with each pass of his hand.
“You should have good days more often,” Greg murmured almost too low for Ryan to hear now, and Ryan shucked off his jeans, stepped out of them and padded back across the room, never once taking his eyes from Greg’s.
He stopped just inches in front of him, watched him for a moment before a small, genuine smile flitted across his lips.
“Would you please shut up,” he muttered affectionately and then took Greg’s hips, spun him and pressed him against the wall. He could feel the shiver of anticipation rush through the other man as he slid his still slick fingers down the crease of his ass then dipped inside without preamble.
Greg grunted softly, pushing back, needing more. After so many years, preparation was foreplay rather than a necessity, and soon Ryan was aligning himself with Greg’s entrance and pushing inside with one long, smooth push. Greg grunted again against his upraised arms, pressing his forehead to the overly warm flesh and Ryan took his hips and leaned forward, catching the skin along the back of his neck and shoulders between his teeth in quick, gentle bites-his hips perfectly still- until Greg was practically trembling beneath him, cursing and begging a long diatribe that had Ryan smiling.
Sex was unhurried, and Greg’s cursing only grew more intensified with frustration, but Ryan refused to give in to him, to his own needs. It had been a while, and he took the time to refamiliarize himself with each inch of flesh wrapped tight around his cock, with each breath and groan and twitch of muscle. It may not have been what Greg wanted, but Ryan had learned that what a client wanted and what they needed were sometimes ballparks apart, and besides, he had no doubt that the man’s orgasm would be that much better for drawing it out.
Still, even he had his limitations, and after only a few more minutes, he suddenly slammed into Greg in earnest, shifting his hips up and his angle down, sure to drag against his prostate with each thrust and earning a long, keening howl for his trouble.
After that it was quick work bringing Greg off. Ryan grabbed his thick shaft tight and peppered the skin along his back in bites-not hard enough to break skin or even really hurt, just a twinge of the slightest pain that he knew went straight to Greg’s crotch.
Greg groaned, loud and long, bucking his hips back against Ryan’s and then going completely still, sinking his teeth into his arm, holding his breath as an orgasm wracked his body. He clenched around Ryan’s shaft, unbearably tight, and it was almost too much to keep going, to keep sinking in and pulling out of Greg’s heat. Ryan came hard, his breath shuddering his entire body, fingers digging into Greg’s hips, forehead pressed to his sweat slicked neck.
Greg struggled to breathe as Ryan’s climax-weakened body pinned him neatly to the wall, damn near crushing his chest. After a long moment, Ryan’s softened cock slipped free and he stepped back, releasing the pressure on Greg as he efficiently stripped the condom from his body and tossed it in the nearby trashcan. Then, with a burst of strength that never failed to shoot a thrill through the smaller man, he neatly lifted Greg’s sated body behind the knees and shoulders, pivoted and walked to the bed, where he deposited him gently.
“Well, King Kong,” Greg cracked, straightening his fogged glasses and grinning up at his friend, “what can Fay Wray do for you this evening?”
“Nothing he hasn’t already done,” Ryan replied, coming to lay down beside him, allowing their bodies to touch all along their lengths. “That was nice.”
“I’ll say.” Turning to his side, Greg propped his head on his hand and idly traced through the sweat coating Ryan’s smooth, warm skin. “So, I’ll ask again. What got into you today, huh?” At the tiny smile that flitted unconsciously across Ryan’s face, Greg smirked and nodded knowingly. “Ah. Tall, pasty and bald, huh?”
The smile morphed into a frown, but Ryan relaxed when he realized his friend was just ribbing him. “Yeah,” he admitted after a moment.
Greg’s hand ghosted in the area of Ryan’s nose. “Got a little sunburn there. Out worshipping the mother goddess in the middle of freaking winter?”
“Sailing, actually. It’s windburn. I think.” Ryan touched his own nose and drew his hand back, hissing. “Ouch. Didn’t even know I had it.”
“Sailing, huh?” Greg said, leering. “Nice boat?”
“Fuck yeah. Gorgeous.”
Greg laughed, that loud, spontaneous, wonderful laugh that always had Ryan smiling. “The boat? Or her skipper?”
Ryan shot him a pair of narrowed eyes, then chuckled. “He let me sail her, Greg. It was…man. I get the attraction now. So free. So…in the moment.” Realizing he was coming damn close to actually waxing poetic, he flushed and looked down. “You know what I mean.”
Grinning, Greg patted Ryan’s belly before reaching for a cigarette. “I do, actually,” he said, lighting up and taking in that first, deep, post-coital drag. Where would sex be without cigarettes, he wondered idly. “He must have really trusted you to let you take the helm.”
Ryan blinked, having obviously not thought about that particular scenario. “Yeah,” he said in a tone that had a touch of wonder in it. “He must have, huh?”
“Uh-yeah. I know people who won’t even let someone else row their dinghy.” He snorted. “Um….”
Filching Greg’s cigarette, he took in a drag and shook his head.
“So,” Greg asked casually-maybe too casually-“when’re you gonna stop this lay for pay thing and take up courting the dude you really dig?”
Ryan once again turned narrowed eyes toward his friend. This time, there was real heat in his gaze. “I enjoy what I do for a living, Greg. I have no reason or desire to give it up. Besides, there are plenty of people I ‘really dig’.”
“Yeah? People who let you sail their yachts on a whim? Ones you smile just thinking about?”
Ryan shrugged, some of his anger dissipating. “You fall into that category.”
“Well, as flattered as I am by that, Ry-guy, if you were to start courting me, I’d probably puke, so you can put that one in the ‘do not recycle’ bin and leave it there.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to give up what I do, but I’d like to see Colin more often. He’s…we’re…it’s just cool being around him. We have more in common than I thought we did. It’s…nice.”
“Nice.”
“You got a problem with that?”
“Who, me?” Greg grabbed his cigarette back. “No problem, man. No problem at all.” He took a drag and snorted. “Nice.”
“You’re a bastard, you know that?”
“And you like me that way.”
Ryan sighed. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“So, I was thinking….” There went that casual thing again.
“And….?”
“You know we’ve got another Just for Laughs coming up in a few weeks, right?”
“I think I remember hearing something about it, yeah.”
“Well…I want you to come out on stage with me.”
“No,” Ryan said, shaking his head violently. “Nuh uh. No way, Jose. No. Period.”
“Aw, c’mon, Ry! You’re good! You’re really good! The audience would love you, and I think you’d dig it, too. You did when we did it at the bar, remember?”
“Big difference between some hick bar and a huge venue, Greg.”
Greg shrugged. “A gig’s a gig, Ryan.” An idea came, and Greg smirked. “Besides, since he’s the biggest sponsor, Colin’s gonna be there again. You told me he showed a bit of talent himself. Maybe we could, you know, finagle him out on stage with us. For kicks.”
Ryan’s eyebrows rose, and he started one of his slow grins. “For kicks, huh?”
“Sure! Why not, huh? Dude pays that much money to sponsor this thing, might as well let him have a little of the action, you know?”
“He’d kill us both. You know that, right?” But Ryan was still smiling.
“Yeah, but it’d be worth it.” Greg waggled his brows as he crushed out his cigarette. “So, what do you think?”
Ryan laughed to himself, imagining. “What the fuck. Let’s do it.”
“Alright!” Greg crowed triumphantly. He got up on his knees and crawled sensually over to where Ryan lay. “This calls for a celebration.”
Actually, it wound up calling for three.
Neither complained.
*******