Fanfic-Challenge
Title: Fanfic Challenge Chapter 12 - Fear
Author: The Empress
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,552
Summary: Lots of frustration...couldn't get to the good stuff like I wanted...welll maybe a lil...its just enough for a pleasant tease I'm afraid...hope you enjoy!!
Disclaimer: Don't own Don't sue
Brad pushed the key into the lock and let himself into his dark apartment. The sun was just beginning to make itself known to this side of the world, but it was still to early to be technically called a good morning. He yawned tiredly, and leaned against his door closing it. He tried to block out all the sensations the past day had left him with, but every time he tried, they would insistently make themselves known pushing their way to the forefront of his brain. Long forgotten was his decidedly better leg injury. The pills and rest had quickly cleared up any remaining pain it had left behind. The only pain that remained was the bittersweet pain of running away from Ryan. He still remembered the look of hurt that had briefly crossed Ryan’s features as he was sure the fear reflected in his own eyes flashed back at him. The remembered feel of Ryan’s lips on his caused a momentary twinge of arousal as well as guilt, and for both of those feelings to hit him at the same time, was overwhelming. He thunked his head against the door once, and yawned. ‘Sleep would be good’, he thought, resigned. He made his way to his bedroom in the dark and flopped down on his bed, without removing his clothes.
Ryan Stiles stared out of his large picture window into the twinkling city lights. It was pre-dawn and he was far from sleep. He brushed his fingers against his mouth once more, reminiscing earlier events of the day. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and sat down on the couch. “Oh, Brad.” He sighed, shaking his head. He leaned his head back and let the memories of those few fleeting moments wash over him. It had affected him like nothing else and all he knew was that he wanted more, wanted to know why fear came into play, and why he was now afraid to try again. ‘I don’t want to scare him anymore.’ He thought morosely to himself. Not being able to help himself, the heady sensation of Brad’s kisses returned to his mind and it brought feelings of helplessness and despair of it ever happening again. He hit the arm of the couch angrily, hard enough to feel the wood through the fabric and winced, the pain shaking his thoughts momentarily, bringing them in to clearer focus. “I’ve had enough of this shit.” He pushed himself up off of the couch grabbed his coat and slammed the door behind him.
Fear kept Wayne’s hand hesitantly poised in front of Colin’s door. He wanted to knock, knowing the man’s jacket was in his hand, but also knowing that it was late, and that it really wasn’t that important. He lingered around the doorway, listening for signs of movement of the occupant on the inside. He wondered if Colin was still drunk or if he had somehow managed to sober up a little after all of the evening’s activities. There was another cause for fear. He wanted to make sure that Colin was safe and was able to make it to bed. Just as the thought crossed his mind he heard a loud thump inside the house and an equally loud curse from his normally composed friend. Another wave of fear, this time much more insistent traveled through Wayne’s body and he pounded on the door. He could feel the alarm from the body within, and heard Colin mutter a confused “What the hell?” Halting footsteps approached the door and Wayne’s heartbeat quickened. He heard a groan from the hallway and he all but had his nose pressed up against the glass. “Colin, are you ok?” Wayne said no longer holding back.
Colin opened the door as Wayne almost fell on top of him. Colin brought his arms up, bracing for impact but Wayne caught himself before colliding into him completely. His upper body brushed against Colin’s and a rush of body heat made it past the material of Wayne’s shirt. Wayne eased back a little and took in the view before him. Colin had his shirt off. His pale skin was almost luminescent in the soft glow of the porch light. Colin had his hands resting slightly on Wayne’s upper arms where he had caught him, and Wayne was still (he noted to himself blushing inwardly) brushing deliciously against Colin’s furry chest hair. Colin’s hair was slightly mussed, its little wisps and tuft adorably framed his face and he was looking down at Wayne a small pout on his lip. Wayne held his breath for a moment stifling his gasp. Colin looked at him confused.
“I…I…” Wayne began stuttering.
Colin looked at him patiently, if more than slightly bewildered. He was rubbing the material of Wayne’s shirt, liking the feel of the purple silk he still donned and tried to read Wayne’s thoughts and more importantly trying to figure out why Wayne had not gone home and was now in his arms, his composure crumbling.
Colin’s confused little adorable face was so hypnotic to Wayne, drawing him in, drawing him closer, mesmerizing him, that he had lost all resolve and did what he thought was the unthinkable. He brought his lips to Colin’s and kissed him softly, so sweet that he closed his eyes to the touch. Fear shimmered through Colin’s lips, transmuting itself only briefly to Wayne’s feather-like touch, but then it pleasantly dissipated. A small sigh escaped Colin’s mouth and his hold tightened on Wayne’s upper arms.
The kiss was brief, fleeting, innocent and much too short for either of their likings, as Wayne pulled away, grinning silkily back at Colin. Colin gave him a knowing, shy look. A smile tugged lightly at the corner of his mouth.
“I brought your jacket.”
“Drew…you hot, throbbing, hard, sexy man-beast you!” Greg said amongst several other choice names hurled at the man behind him. Drew had him still successfully pinned to the wall and was teaching him, yet again, why he was the man with the plan and the upper hand. He grabbed the back of Greg’s head, yanking it back toward his own, kissing his way down his neck, greedily. Greg’s bunny slippers always turned him on and Greg knew it, even if it was buried back in his subconscious. Currently they were the only things that Greg was wearing. His clothes were savagely ransacked and tossed around the area where they were standing. Drew, too turned on to do anything but drop his pants, was taking the reins and riding his more than willing steed. They were both extremely exhausted, but being so exhausted caused a new wave of energy and strength to take over and sleep was forgotten. Their cries resounded off the walls of Drew’s home only adding themselves to the echoes of the past. There was never any fear of neighbors hearing, not that they would care anyway, the only fear was that a passing car would drive by seeing the door still wide open and a pair of writhing bodies inside, but who cared about that either, they were always more than happy to put on a good show, being entertainers, after all.
The sun had risen and a new day had dawned. Ryan circled the block around Brad’s house for the 10th time. At first his anger had resolved him to march straight over there and settle it then and there. But after an hour, it was now 6:30 am, he was tired, weary, worn fear had an opportunity to make itself at home in the corners of his mind. What if Brad never wanted to talk to him again? What if Brad would make it clear to him that they were to remain professionals? What if he would never know, what it could be having Brad as more than a professional or platonic friend? The fear kept him circling the block.
Brad had rose groggily, around six fifteen-ish, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and moaning against the pillow. His neck was stiff as well as something else. His dreams were troubling and frustrating and he got little to no sleep. He sat up and rubbed his neck looking down into his lap and sighed. He didn’t want to think in that area today, he had way too much to sort out. He stumbled his way into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He stripped down to his boxers, his erection pressed tightly against the fabric. It hurt, aching to be touched, but he tried hard to block out the thoughts of who he’d want assistance from. He eased down the last of his restrictions and stepped into the cold spray. His high pitched scream rang out with alacrity as he shook himself like a wet dog. The cold water cleared his head, above and below and he reached for the soap.
Brad stepped out of the shower wrapping his big white terry cloth towel around his waist. He stretched and rubbed the last of the kinks out of his neck. He padded into the living room and came to a quick halt. In his armchair, the semi darkness, early morning light reflecting his silhouette, Ryan sat, his fingers steepled looking sullen and forlornly back at him.