Because I felt the need to write some angst. TITLE: Frayed Edges AUTHOR: Makingamochrie PAIRING: Ryan/Colin, Colin/m (implied), Ryan/f (implied) RATING: Hard R for mild smut DISCLAIMER: FICTION. Don't own, don't sue, don't try this at home. SUMMARY: See above When I opened the door to our home slightly after midnight, it was to find Ryan looming there, glaring at me. Having been on the receiving end of that look far too many times over the past several months, I didn’t let it faze me and, instead, walked past him to hang my coat in the closet. I could feel him breathe in as I passed by, and knew exactly what he was doing. I returned to stand before him, and when he eyed my clothes and not my face, I couldn’t resist. “Looking for lipstick on my collar?” “Not unless you’re fucking trannies now,” he growled, fists balled so tight, his knuckles shown white against the tan of his skin. “Ah—that would be no.” “So you are fucking somebody.” His eyes flashed danger and he took a step toward me, fists still tight and held in against his thighs. I refused to give ground. Cocking my head slightly, I shrugged. “I won’t deny it.” “Fuck!” he shouted, grabbing my shoulder and pushing, hard. I took one step back, and braced, keeping my face totally expressionless. “Who is it, huh? Who the fuck is it?!?” “Nobody you know.” “Screw that! It’s Greg, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way you two look at one another.” Sighing, I shook my head. “No, it’s not Greg. There’s enough drama on that set to add any more to it. I’m telling you, it’s no one you know.” “You’re lying!” “Am I?” Snarling, he grabbed my lapels and yanked me forward until our faces were inches apart. I could smell the scotch on his warm breath. “Don’t fuck with me, Colin. Believe me, you do not want to fuck with me.” “I’m telling you the truth, Ryan. Whether or not you choose to believe it is totally up to you.” Teeth bared, he lifted one hand, and I let my own anger show through. “Try it, Ryan, and I’ll make sure your prized possession is out of commission for a month. Don’t think I won’t do it. Don’t think I can’t.” He hesitated for a moment, then slowly lowered his hand. He knew to take my threat seriously. “Why?” he asked finally, his voice the slightest bit softer. “Just fucking tell me why.” “Why? That’s easy. Because I’m tired of being nothing but a hole you stick it in when you want to get off, Ryan. For God’s sake, I know how much stress you’re under, and God knows I’m not at all adverse to being a tension reliever once in awhile, but almost every damn night?” I took in a breath, then let it out slowly, sadly. “Because I’m tired of having to jerk myself off after you’re done with me because you’re fast asleep, or can’t be bothered.” “Goddamnit, Colin! You know how fucking tired I’ve been!” “Yeah, I know. Too tired to give me any pleasure, but not too tired to get your own out of me. I know all about it.” “You don’t know anything!!” “I know about the makeup artist,” I replied, still keeping my voice neutral. “And the new camera tech. And that little incident in the editing bay that almost cost a day’s taping. And a few dozen others as well.” As I spoke, the flush of anger drained from his face, and he paled even beneath his tan. When he seemed about to speak, I held up a hand. “And I don’t give a damn about any of it. I knew what I was getting into when I signed on for this, Ryan. I didn’t do what I did to get back at you. I did it because I needed, I need, to feel something other than my own damn hand in the middle of the night. I did it because I wanted to feel like something other than someone’s whore.” I laughed bitterly. “Hell, not even that. At least whores get paid for their services.” “You goddamned motherfucking son of a bitch!” “Maybe I am,” I agreed. “Or maybe I’m just a man who needs to get his own back. You’re draining me dry, Ryan. Everyone has a breaking point, and I’m just about at mine.” A strange light came into his eyes, and he grinned. “Oh, I’ll drain you dry alright. I’ll drain you dry just fine.” Grabbing me again, he pushed us both back until I was tight against the door. Then he reached down between my legs and squeezed. It wasn’t a pleasant squeeze, but I felt my body respond nonetheless. “I’ll drain you so fucking dry, you won’t be able to get it up for a week!” “So, rape’s your thing now?” He growled again. “Fuck that. You want this just as much as I do.” “Do I?” His hesitation gave me the leverage I wanted, and I grabbed his thumb and pulled it back far enough so that he was forced to release his harsh grip on me. Then I sidestepped and swung away from him. “Go on then!” he said, butting his head against the door. “Get the fuck outta here and go back to your toy. Let him finish what I started.” “Nah,” I replied. “He was just a face and a smile. And a warm body in the dark. I got what I needed.” “Fuck!” he screamed. The blow he hadn’t quite dared to land on me hit the door instead, rattling it in its frame. “Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” I sighed. “I already told you. When you’re ready to actually listen, you let me know.” Turning, I mounted the stairs toward our bedroom, not even wincing as the door slammed, rattling the windows once again. ******* I didn’t see him for two days after that, but my life went on pretty much as usual. I was working on a movie—an independent flick that was mostly improv—and that took up a great deal of my energy and thoughts. When I got home, I prepared dinner for two, ate alone, and, on the second night, went back out to the club and laid a smooth-chested young man who looked a little like Jeff and had a mouth that could make a marble statue climax. On the third night, he came home, looking more tired and gaunt than usual, and sporting an impressive bulge in his pants. I steeled myself as he stalked up to me, then froze in shock when he dropped to his knees and laid his cheek against me, nuzzling me like he used to when our love was new and the possibilities seemed endless. I felt myself respond, and far more quickly than anyone I’d been with at the club. And why not? This was Ryan, after all, and despite everything, I still loved him. And because of that, he could still excite me in a way that no one else ever could. With sly, knowing hands, he unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped me, and slid my jeans down around my ankles. Then me mouthed me through the tight fabric of my underwear, and God help me, I almost came right then. I was harder and higher than I could remember being for a long, long while. As I braced myself against his strong shoulders, he slid my underwear down over my erection. Then he simply looked at me for a long span of minutes, as if he’d never seen me before. His fingers came up to lightly trace my shape. My own clamped down harder on his shoulders. Grasping me gently at the base, he took me into the warm haven of his mouth, and my eyes rolled back in my head at the feel of him, so warm and wet, surrounding me. He took me with such reverence and grace that I felt almost sanctified. It didn’t take long, and he kept me in his mouth when I came, something he hadn’t done in a long time. When my knees buckled, he caught me and held me and whispered words of love I’d almost forgotten. And then he kissed me, and it was like the first time all over again, only better. Finally pulling away, he smiled at me, one that reached the depths of his eyes. “I’m ready to listen, now.” “What about this?” I asked, brushing my hand over his straining erection. “That can wait. Forever, if necessary. Talk to me, Colin. I need to know.” We talked late into the night, and made love twice more before it was through. He was the caring and attentive lover I’d come to know and I was the same in return. I was in Heaven. I don’t know if it’s going to last. I only pray that it does. Because I love him, and I know he loves me. But I’m only a man, and a man has his limits, and mine are frayed. He never told me what happened during those two days that he was gone, and I’ve given up asking. I only pray to God it was enough, because though I know that I can live without him, I also know that I don’t want to. FIN.