Anything for Love... Pairing - ry/col Rating - adult Summary - dinner party from hell, rewards from heaven, and things left unsaid... Disclaimer - This is a work of fiction. I derive no profit from this work. I do not own any of the title characters. Any similarity to real life is PURELY coincidental. The dinner party starts at 7pm. I'm standing in my kitchen wearing a nice suit (two thousand dollar Vera Wang) and an apron, removing the chili rubbed chicken - my specialty - and trying to fabricate a reason to leave the house. Surrounded by shining marble and stainless steel surfaces, I feel like the Iron Chef - but only bald and slightly less Asian - considerably more Scottish Canadian. The thought causes me to sigh. I'm so scatterbrained without him. The party is being held for some theatre friends of Deb's - who I don't even know, but who thinks very highly of her. I was drafted to cook the meal, but I made it sort of clear that I wasn't interested in staying. My irritability led to a debate, which ended in me deciding to stay or being forced to rent a room at a local luxury suit. When I pull the chicken from the oven, I lift the lid and glance at it. Beautiful. Nice job, as usual. I really should have considered a slightly less lucrative career in culinary arts, but alas...I might not have ended up here. I might not have met him. When my wife comes into the kitchen, I must admit, she looks stunning. She's wearing a short, cropped dress in the same indigo color as my tie, her brownish reddish hair is up in a loose bun, and her eyes seem guarded when she sees me. "It's just a few hours - then you can go do whatever it is you're so eager to do." Her voice is harsh, but somehow soft - like she's beckoning me or teasing me...I don't know which. I shrug. "There's nothing I'd rather do than be here." My lie sounds sarcastic and false even to my own ears, and I shudder a bit. "Sorry." I apologize as she goes past me to get wine from the cellar. "It's fine," she mumbles, and I watch as she disappears down into the little room. It's funny. Things really didn't start to go bad until the last few years, and I can't even pinpoint when I lost complete physical attraction to her. It just happened - out of the blue. I found myself looking at her one evening when all of a sudden, something died. I can't blame her. It wasn't her pushing me away; it was something else drawing me in. Someone completely unexpected. "Hey Dad." I turn to the sound of the voice and smile. He's tall. His hair is like his mother's, a healthy reddish brown, and I find myself hoping the male-patterned baldness will skip him because it just wouldn't seem right to pass on something so unpleasant. He's smirking. "Hey kid." I elbow him good-naturedly. "You leaving?" He nods. "Yeah. My car is here." I snort a laugh. "You sound so Hollywood. Where are you going?" He meets my gaze, squarely and I know he would never lie to me. "Mom said I could stay at a friends - so you get to be stuck here with the Maple Leaf Players?" His laugh is a blatant taunt, and I shake my head, slowly. "Completely unfair." I sigh. He nods. "Right. Maybe mom should let you go off with your friends." The first image that comes to mind is him, and I have to shake off the warmth that this image always brings. My goodness, I need a drink. "Oh. Yeah." I joke with him. "Like that would ever happen." He laughs at my assessment as his mother emerges from the cellar carrying a bottle. "Hey, hon." She addresses our son, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, and then turns to me. "What do you think of this Merlot with your chicken?" I shrug. "Sure. Alright." Then, she turns to him again. "You leaving, sweetie?" He nods, zipping his leather jacket, looking like a man at twelve. "Yeah. Carl's dad is outside." "Oh." She suddenly seems to have forgotten something. "Well. He could have come inside." My son shakes his head. "Nah. So, I'll call you guys later." Deb smiles warmly at him as I watch their interaction quietly. "Yes. Have fun and be careful and don't eat sweets after eleven because you know what it does to your stomach." He snorts a laugh and moves to exit. "Sure. Right, mom. Whatever." "See ya, kid." I wave, absently, and he turns to grin at me. "Yeah dad." In moments, Deb and I are alone again. The silence is palpable as she attempts to look busy while I lean against the counter, studying her. "Well..." she muses, grabbing wine glasses from the cupboard. "...he certainly is growing up." I nod. "Yeah. I guess that's what kids do these days. Grow up. I've even heard tales of them dating and marrying off at some point..." She makes an irritated noise and turns to me. "Is everything a joke with you?" In spite of myself, I'm taken aback. "Um. Yeah. I guess it is." Her eyes are like guarded daggers, and we stay that way for several seconds, until the doorbell rings. She goes to answer it, and I don't even realize I was holding my breath until I feel myself exhale slowly. Susan and Rich arrive first, a pair of French Canadian performance artists, a really flamboyant looking woman with blonde spiked hair, and an older man with a really toothy grin and an apparent love for costume jewelry. Suddenly, I feel overdressed as I greet them and listen to them tell me how much they enjoy Whose Line and some other stuff I've done. "Although, I didn't really 'get' Jane White..." the woman says, still grasping my hand as I nod and smile and try to seem interested. "...the role didn't suit you, I feel." I shrug my shoulders. "I didn't really get it myself." I hear myself say. "I don't often turn down film roles, so..." "It's a crap chute, really." Deb says behind us, coming to my rescue. I am grateful for that as she leads them to the sitting room. "Coffee?" She asks as they follow her, and I stand alone in the foyer, wishing for a distraction. When my phone rings, I actually say a silent prayer and marvel that this prayer has been answered when I hear Ryan's voice on the line. My heart does a little mambo inside my chest. "Ryan." I nearly gasp. "Where are you? I need saving..." He chuckles into the phone. " My driver is experiencing technical difficulties, but we're coming down your street right now - should be there in two minutes." I close my eyes, thanking the Supreme Being. He always comes to my rescue. I lower my voice. "Are you sans wife?" He pauses before responding. "Oh. Sorry, Col. I didn't hear you. Pat was saying something in my other ear." His subtle way of saying 'no'. My shoulders slump a bit. "Well. I look forward to seeing you both." I perk up - for the sake of everyone in attendance. When they arrive, I answer the door myself (since Deb took it upon herself to give the help the night off) and I have to suppress the sharp intake of breath at seeing Ryan in the silk, pea-green shirt and pale green tie to match. He looks so good in that color. His hair is lighter blond and standing up in that bouncy - almost Greg Proops-like pompadour. His hazel eyes shine playfully, and I have to lean in the threshold to keep from stumbling. I don't even notice his wife at first until she lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Colin Mochrie - it's always a pleasure." I clear my throat and tear my eyes from her husband. "Oh. Gosh. Thanks, Pat." I kiss her hand. "You're too kind." Between us, she is tiny, reminding me of a perky gymnast in eveningwear. Her brown hair is pulled into a ponytail, and her smile is open and friendly. Ryan rests a hand against the small of her back, and I try not to take it personally. "Something smells good, Col." He says, as I usher them inside. "You made your famous chicken." I nod. "Yep. My specialty. " Leading them into the sitting room, I try not to think about how good Ryan smells. I try not to think about how wonderful he looks or how much I need him to touch me. Instead, I focus on the party as everyone converges together for coffee. "Oh. Hi Ryan. Pat." Deb is all smiles as she greets them. "I'm so glad you guys could make it. " I stand a bit away from them all as she introduces her friends to Ryan, another Hollywood star (by their standards) and they close in on him like moths to a flame. Turning to exit, I move to the kitchen and stand alone. The only thing I hate worse than not being with Ryan is being with Ryan in the presence of our wives. The feeling of being stifled and repressed makes my chest tight with longing. When my wife comes into the kitchen, she just stands there and stares at me. I am holding a glass of scotch I don't even remember pouring. "So." she says, hands on hips. "Is this how we deal with life? Drowning our sorrows in hard liquor while our wife tries to give the illusion of a healthy marriage?" I sigh. "I wish you wouldn't sound like a bad Woody Allen film." I take a sip and let it warm me. "And I wasn't drowning my sorrows. " Her voice is level when she speaks. "I know you can't stand this." Her eyes are large and sad, and I feel a pang of guilt in my stomach. I wish I didn't love Ryan so much. I wish I still loved her in that way. I wish I had never met her. I wish I could tell her what's going on in my head, but it's easier to deal with her not knowing. It's easier allowing her a small ray of hope. "But..." She continues. "...if we can get through this evening without incident, then I will never ask another thing of you." I meet her eyes. "You must really like these French Canadians." She nods, sincerely. "I do. I really do, Colin." "Okay, then." I smile warmly at her. "A night without incident. Your wish is my command." Several minutes later, we're seated at the dining room table. Deb and I are sitting side by side with Ryan and Pat directly across from us, Susan next to Deb and Rich next to Ryan. Food is steaming delicious on the plates in front of us, but I'm not hungry for that. I have to keep my eyes downcast or else I'll be staring at him the entire time. "So, Colin?" The voice belongs to Rich. "...will there be another season of Whose Line is it Anyway?" Clearing my throat, I glance up and shrug. "We haven't received word yet, but there is a good possibility..." Right in the middle of speaking, I feel something press against my inner thigh. I am in mid-sentence, but my eyes go directly to Ryan, who seems focused on the dinner in front of him. He's actually chewing and moving his red potatoes around with his fork. "There is a good possibility that... um..." The protrusion presses closer to my crotch, and I have to fight the urge to look under the table. Rich is waiting patiently, watching my eyes dart as I try to gain some control of myself. "A good possibility..." He prompts, slowly. I nod and shift in my seat, inadvertently giving better access to my attacker. The foot presses directly between my legs, resting gently against my package. I shiver lightly, and turn to Rich again. "Yeah. There's a good possibility we'll be returning - probably midwinter." My eyes slide towards Ryan. "Wouldn't you say?" He glances up and takes a sip of wine before answering. "Oh sure. I talked to Drew two days ago, and he sounded hopeful..." "Wow." Susan pipes in. "You spoke with Drew Carey? What's he like anyway?" I turn my attention back to the foot between my legs and almost cry out when it moves away. Ryan is chuckling, trying to think of a proper response. "Drew Carey is a card." He answers. "I don't really know how else to respond to that without getting myself involved in a law suit." Everyone at the table laughs, and then the foot returns - only without the shoe. I hear myself laughing loudly, and Deb turns to me, surprised. "You okay?" she says softly. "You look a little... flushed." I take my napkin and wipe my forehead. "Must be the wine." I muse. Now, I meet Ryan's eyes and I notice they are twinkling with mischief. "Too much wine or not enough?" He asks, with a playful note in his voice. I don't respond right away. Instead, I slide my chair back and stand, holding his gaze the entire time. "I forgot something in the kitchen." I murmur and go there to seek relief when I hear the door open behind me. Without turning, I know its Ryan. "What are you doing?" I ask, quietly. "Besides trying to give me a heart-attack?" He comes to stand next to me. "Trying to give you a heart-attack." When I turn to him, our eyes link. "I'm already in a state, and you aren't helping." "I'm sorry I brought her." His words surprise me. "She wanted to come. She invited herself along. She really likes you." I feel confused and a bit flustered. "But... that was *your* foot under the table, right?" He snorts a laugh. "Yeah. It was my foot." His hand comes up to fondle the lapel of my suit coat. "Don't." I say, moving away. "She'll come in and it will all go to Hell." He sighs. "She already knows." I shake my head. "No. She doesn't know the half of it." When he folds his arms, his slender form is outlined in his shirt. I wish I could take it off of him. "Like what?" He asks. I shrug. "Like - that I can't stop thinking about you. Like - that I can't sit another minute across from you or I might do something stupid like profess my love for you over the chocolate mousse desert. Or..." Ryan closes his eyes. "You can stop anytime." "Or.." I continue. "...that I hate seeing you with your wife, knowing that you'll be sleeping with her when you leave, and I can't even get one lousy kiss because it'll ruin everything." "Shut up." Ryan whispers. "I'm not sleeping with her when I leave." I shake my head. "And why not? I know it's nothing personal - you just have the sex drive of the Gods." He smirks. "I'm going to ask Deb if we can stay over in the guest house." My heart skips at his words. "Um...we'd better get back out there." Seating ourselves at the table, I feel eyes plastered to me like I'm an oddity in a freak show. Deb nudges me and I turn to her. "Yeah?" "What's going on with you?" she whispers, and luckily, our voices are masked by the conversation between Pat, Rich and Susan. I shrug. "What are you getting at?" I whisper. "Everything's fine." She nods, slowly. "I'm not stupid, Colin." "I know." I reach for my fluke of wine. "Believe me, I know." "What's that supposed to mean?" Without responding to her, I turn my attention to Rich. "So, how's the wonderful world of performance art?" Later, we're all seated in the sitting room, enjoying chocolate mousse when Ryan asks a pertinent question, causing my hormones to race throughout my body and send a jolt straight to my erogenous zones. "Deb, do you mind if we stay over? Pat is bushed, and I don't really feel like making the trek back to the Toronto Embassy." My heart stops as she replies. "Of course! You guys are always welcome to use the guesthouse. I don't know why you ever bother to stay in hotels at all when visiting Canada..." She turns towards Rich and Susan. "...and I extend that offer to you as well... we have several guest rooms..." Rich shakes his head and smiles. "Susan and I have a very busy morning - in fact, we should really be going, but we thank you, nonetheless." Deb nods and smiles and goes to show them the door as I sit in a room with Ryan and Pat and try not to let all my blood flow to one specific part of my body. My smile is genuine when Pat regards me and starts talking to me about her projects, but I must admit, I'm only thinking of her husband. Call it sinful, but I am. I can't help myself. Hours later, Ryan and Pat are settled in the guesthouse, and I am getting antsy. Deb is brushing her hair and pulling on her robe as I watch with an idle mind. "What?" she asks. "Wait. Don't tell me. You're lost in your thoughts again." I shrug. "Yeah. Okay. I'm lost in my thoughts again. Do you think they're okay out there?" She shakes her head, slowly. "Why wouldn't they be? The guest house is very comfortable." Clearing my throat, I turn to her. "Are you going to bed, soon?" Her face becomes an instant mask of indignance. "And if I'm not?" I shrug. "Listen, I have to go check on something." I say, losing all patience and self-control. In moments, I am outside of the house and walking down the grassy path towards the guesthouse, glancing at the pool briefly, watching the rippling water like my rippling emotions. If I don't touch him soon, I'll die. I know it. "Colin?" His voice is right in front of me, and I use him for leverage so I won't fall. "Ryan." I say, glad to have nearly bumped into him. His smile is slow and bright in the evening light. "I was coming to get you." I nod. "Your wife?" "Asleep." He says, touching my shoulder. "Are you as horny as I am?" I close my eyes in silent answer as he leads me towards the back of the house, tugging me by my pajama sleeve. When we reach a shadowy spot, he pushes me back against brick and presses his mouth to mine. I sigh and taste him, clutching his t- shirt in my fist. My slippers are sinking into wet soil, and I don't care. I only care about the feel of his tongue against mine and his hand cradling my head, and the moonlight tinting his blond curls an ominous shade of pale blue. "Jesus..." I sigh when his lips leave mine to take up residence at my neck, trailing light kisses along it. "...Ryan...I should go back inside..." He responds with a soft grunt but doesn't stop his assault, raising my pajama shirt and twining his fingers in the fine dark hair on my chest. His hands are so warm and feel so good on my skin. I bite my lip and try not to think of consequences. Thinking of those always drives away my erection. "Colin?" He whispers, bending his head to kiss a nipple, and I clench shut my eyes, biting my lip hard to keep from making a sound, lest someone hear and come running. My hand is buried in his soft curls, driving through them as he continues to kiss my chest, alternating between nipples. "I should... I should get inside..." I'm desperate to go but more desperate to stay. Stopping now could prove fatal for me. "Ryan?" His hand slips beneath my waistband and grabs me in a large tender fist. "Like that?" He asks against my lips as he begins to stroke me, slowly. "I know you do." His voice is a deep rumble, and I find myself pushing into his hand, beginning to thrust. "Slow down, cowboy?" He whispers. "...I'll get you there. I promise." My head is resting against brick, and I am breathing as quietly as I can, but he's going to drive me insane with his words. "Ryan..." It comes out like a whimper. "...Ryan, please... faster... we'll be caught..." He smirks in the night. "That's part of the fun, yes?" I shake my head, feeling harder than I've been in years. "P-part of the f-fun... right..." "I want to taste you." He whispers, and pulls me to him, hugging me close as his hand continues to slide slowly up and down on my rod. "Ryan..." I sigh. "...not much... time." He turns me around and sinks to the ground on his knees and pulls my cock forward, licking the head of it. I shudder and hold onto his shoulders for leverage. Soon, his head is bobbing forward and back, engulfing me as I try to keep quiet. Christ, I'm so close, but I want to hang on. I don't want this to end. "Ryan..." I murmur. "...so good..." He chuckles, sending a tingle through my body as he sucks me deeper down his throat and brings one hand to caress my scrotum. Soon, I feel the familiar signs of release as I tremble and come hard into his mouth. He continues to drain me dry before standing and holding me close to him, kissing me deeply. My taste is on his tongue, and I cup his chin as I kiss him to fully savor his mouth and lips. When my hand comes down the front of his slacks, I feel that he's in a worse state than I was, straining hard against the fabric. "Did I do this?" I ask him, softly. He can only nod. "First, maybe you should get back inside. To see if she's asleep." I shake my head. "No. I already know she isn't. Besides, I have to take care of this for you." He grins. "I'll be okay. I'm a glutton for punishment, remember?" He kisses my lips, gently. "Go check, and I'll wait here for you." I sigh and regard him. "I have this strange feeling that she not only saw us, but she taped the entire thing." He makes a sound of irritation. "Don't be silly. Just go check, Col. Or I might have to take care of myself." "Right. Okay." I start back around the house. When I get inside, I find myself creeping up the stairwell and into the hallway, sneaking down to the master bedroom where I don't immediately see her. /Shit./ I think to myself. /What if she *did* see us?/ Then, I hear music in another room, and I start down the hallway - past our son's room and glance into the guest room right next to it. Peering inside, I see her lying on the bed, snoring lightly as the clock radio plays softly, and I am glad that she's asleep at least. Then, something nearly makes me jump when I feel it against me. "Hey. I couldn't wait." He whispers against my neck, and I close the guest room door and turn towards him. "You nearly scared the piss out of me." I whisper, touching his face, wiping a smudge of dirt from it. "Lets go in here." He opens the door nearest, and before I can protest, he has me inside and against the wall. His mouth is against mine as he presses his pelvis against me. "Ryan... not in here..." He doesn't stop, only brings my hand down to his swelled cock, and I am close to giving in when I open my eyes and see the Bare Naked Ladies poster, lava lamp, stereo, bright blue Apple computer, tennis shoes and clothes strewn about. I have to tear myself away from Ryan's questing mouth. "Not here." I tell him, taking his hand and leading him out the door. "I won't have sex in my kid's bedroom." His eyes are genuinely apologetic as he lets me lead him down the staircase. "Sorry..." He whispers. "...I didn't know." I nod. "I know. But the rest of the house is fair game." In moments we're in the game room, and I have him against a pool table, raising his shirt and attacking his nipples with renewed vigor. He's sighing and moaning as I reach for his cock and tug it free of his pants. "Ah... Colin... yes..." he groans as I saliva my hand and start to pump his swollen organ. His head is tossed back as I stroke him a few times and toy with the tip. "Want more?" I ask, kissing his chest, pumping him harder. He nods, holding my head in one hand. "Yeah...give me everything..." I smirk and kneel before him, tugging his pants down his legs. "You sure you can handle 'everything'?" I ask as I begin kissing his inner thigh. "Mmm... Colin... don't tease..." his voice is weak. Soon, my mouth is covering the head of his cock, kissing and licking just the tip as he arches up, trying to sink himself inside my mouth. "Colin..." He cries out. "...Jesus fucking Christ, I won't last like that..." I continue teasing the head of his cock when I get an inspired idea. "Okay." I whisper, holding him in my hand. "Maybe something different..." He closes his eyes. "What? Anything... just do it..." I lower my own bottoms and turn my back to him, pressing my ass against his crotch as he bites his lip. "Are you sure?" He asks, grasping my hip in his hand. "I don't want to hurt you." I nod, bracing myself. "I want to feel you." I whisper. "Inside me." He presses against my back, wrapping his arms around me, letting his cock nestle against my ass. "When was the last time we did that?" I shrug. "I don't know, but I'm going to go insane if you don't do it now." He kisses my shoulder and slides slowly inside me as I gasp and lean my head back against him. Our fingers entwine as he lazily thrusts, and it feels so good, my eyes are crossing. "You feel so good, Colin..." He exhales against my neck. "...I love this...I love you..." I wince in pleasure and grab hold of my own organ. "I know..." I manage. "...love you too..." "Lets elope." He whispers in a passion-filled voice. I can't answer as his tip teases my prostate, making me momentarily speechless. "You can...wear the tux..." his voice rumbles in his chest, sending vibrations through us, and I gasp at the sensation. "Ryan..." I sigh. "...so close..." "You looked so good tonight... in that suit... wanted to fuck you... over dinner..." "Shh..." my head is rolling back and forth. "...Ryan, shh..." "Can't take the heat?" his voice is playful as he drives deeper still, making me cry out. "Oh... please..." We make love like that for another several minutes, and then his hand closes around my cock and gives it a hard tug as I climax violently, biting my lip to keep from screaming. His own orgasm follows as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, nearly breaking the skin. We stay joined for another few minutes, and then some nagging little voice inside my head tells me to compose myself. Ryan senses this and withdraws from me, pulling up his own pants and straightening his hair. We don't speak, but we lean in for a chaste kiss as I tie my drawstring pants and use a spare towel to wipe up the mess I left on the floor. Wordlessly, I go behind the bar and grab us a few beers, and try to regain my composure - and my breathing as he sets up a game for us on the pool table. Our actions feel rehearsed - even driven by some unseen force, and then when we are halfway in the middle of a game, not ten minutes after our bout of lovemaking, both Deb and Pat come into the room, looking somehow puzzled but mildly relieved. "I wondered what had happened to you." Pat says to Ryan, folding her arms but looking utterly cheerful. My colleague and I exchange brief glances before he shrugs and takes a swig of beer. "What's the point of staying at Colin's if I can't squeeze in a few games of pool?" Deb then chimes in. "Right. Colin is the real master of ceremonies. You guys had poor Pat wandering the gardens like some kind of Anne Heche reenactment." I have a chuckle at the image. "We got a bit stir crazy." I say, more to myself than to anyone else. "Well?" Deb says, coming to stand near me, taking a sip of my beer. "...Since we're all up..." Pat nods, happily - like an easily excitable puppy. "Maybe we could join you." Disappointment ghosts Ryan's features briefly, and I think I'm the only one who notices it. "Sure." He says. "Why not." Pat wraps her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shirt. "Don't disappear like that again. I was worried." Deb regards me, and I throw a fraternal arm around her shoulder. "You suck at pool." She looks up at me, and her eyes speak volumes. "Oh, I know. But not as bad as you suck at deception." The words cling to the atmosphere like sickly sweet air freshener sprayed over a lingering stink, and I don't bother countering it. After all, what would be the point... END