From: "Linda" <> Date: Monday, December 03, 2001 6:01 PM
First time's the hardest...
Title: Ringo's Revelation
Website: http://www.geocities.com/yankeestarbuck Feedback: Always accepted, flames are put out. Category: Slash, Drama, AU
Summary: Byers and Frohike are outed to Langly in a most shocking way.
Archive: Anywhere, let me know first
Disclaimer: Yes, I know they aren't mine, but they like to play with me sometimes.
Author's Notes: This was a semi-challenge, more like a request from Alison X in regard to a certain mentioned scene in Kylara Ingress's fic "The Games We Play". She was gracious enough to allow me to use her premise to write my first slash piece. I hope I do her justice.
I can see John sitting there, typing away at his laptop. His cologne is in the air, just gently wafting over to me. Not an Aqua Velva man like me. John likes to wear Cool Water. And cool it is. It reminds me of a recurring dream I have of me lying in the beach in the early morning hours, just before sunrise. I was sleeping out under the open sky, and the waves were keeping time with my heart beat. I was reaching out to touch the face of the person next to me and the soft, well-manicured beard soothes my anxiety of being there alone. I'm brought out of my daydream by John asking me something.
"What did you say, John? I wasn't paying attention."
"You sure weren't. I asked if you had the second page headline for my piece. It's finished. Where were you?" he wonders, quietly.
"Doesn't matter. Yeah, it's finished. Let's see what you got." I'm all business once more. We didn't need to waste time on my fantasies.
"What was so important that you forgot I was here?" he insists.
I shake my head. John, leave it alone, I think. He's not. He walks over to me, puts a hand on my cheek and leans in to lay the softest kiss on my lips. I love the tickle of his moustache on my lip. Telling him how I felt about him was the smartest thing I ever did.
"I was on a beach, at sunrise, lying with you, listening to the surf," I finally confess. I could hear the wistful yearning in my voice, trying to make it real just by saying it.
"Sounds nice. What were we doing?" John asked, trying to draw more from me in that gentle way he has of stroking my mind with his honey-silk voice.
"Just lying there," I say, trying to let the subject drop, knowing John is going to keep soothing me. His hands are on my shoulders, kneading the knots. He kisses my cheek.
"Are we touching?" he tests me, wanting me to give him the green light to be intimate. John always did have problems with his emotions and he sometimes relies on me to give him the push to tell me how he feels. As if saying it to another man is easier than saying it to a woman.
"Well, I'm touching your face. Your beard is reassuring, strengthening me, making me more sure of myself," I say, as I reach out for him, sliding my hands up his shirt. He's blushing, as he always does. He doesn't have my sense of self yet, no matter how old he is. He's still as scared and skittish as Langly about intimacy. But he's learning.
John captures my mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding between my lips. He's gentle, unhurried, tender, teasing me to take hold of his neck and press back onto him, which I do, hoping I will go along with him. John tries to be brave, but I'm his first, and I can tell. He's still a bit overwhelmed by kissing another man, especially one of his best friends. But I can usually calm him.
His hands are on my chest, touching my nipples through my shirt. He's so scared, I feel his hands shaking. I press my body against his, deepening the kiss and trying to feel more of him on me. I can feel his hard cock against mine, through our trousers. Electricity shoots up from my crotch into my stomach. I push him back against the layout table to run my hands over his body. Does he always have to wear a t-shirt under his shirt and tie? Well, that's my Narcboy...and I wouldn't have him any other way.
He responds to my touches with his breath catching in his chest. I kiss his neck and throat, licking the soft flesh. He wraps his arms around me to pull me into him. I slide a hand down to his waist band, unbutton his trousers with one hand--trickster that I am--and slip my hand in. His cock is hot, hard and throbbing in my hand with need. He gasps as I start to move my fingers up and down on it, trying to rub the head into his briefs. He lays back against the table to give me better access.
"God, Mel, you are amazing at this," he breathes into my ear.
"I'm just getting started," I growl back.
He returns my wicked smile. He doesn't realize how strong I am as grab his thighs and hoist him onto the layout table to sit back. He looks down at me, sexy eyes half open, wondering what my next move is. You can see clearly how off guard he is as I ease his pants down, causing him to wriggle a bit, so I could get the trousers around his thighs. Pulling back his tightie whities to find Lil' John looking up at me, hot, purple-headed and throbbing, causing the involuntary groan to bubble up in my throat. A tasty little morsel, it is.
I look up one last time into John's eyes, which are closed; his head is tilted back a little in anticipation of what I'm going to do. He may be new to the scene, but he's not stupid nor nave. He's expecting this, although, I think this is his first from a man.
"Are you ready, John?" Do I sound too eager?
"Yes, Mel, please..." he moans, spurring me into motion.
And I feel him jump a bit with the shock of my mouth on him. The skin is hot and smooth and tight. The pre-cum leaking from the tip is salty and delicious. I can hear his loud gasp of surprise when my mouth slides all the way down so that the head enters my throat. Good thing I got over my gag reflexes years ago. That succulent cock feels so good in my mouth, sweet candy to my senses. I grab his hips for stability as I slide my mouth up and down on him, slurping loudly. The only other sound is the hum of the equipment and...keys? Was that keys in the door? My back is to the door and I can't look up to see it. But soon enough, I hear it.
"What the fuck...holy fucking Christ!"
It's Ringo. SHIT! I thought he'd be out longer. Maybe I misjudged the time. Damn, what a thing for the kid to see, without even any prep work. I pull away to see him storm past us and up the stairs to his room. I can hear the door slam. I look up at John, who is looking back at me like a scared rabbit.
"Oh my God, Mel," was all he could manage.
"Relax, John, I'll go talk to him," I say, turning toward the stairs. I ascend quietly, turning back to see John fastening his trousers and running a shaky hand through his hair. I continue on to Langly's room. I knock on his door. No sound from inside. I knock again. Still silence. I try the handle and it gives.
He's laying on his bed, face turned to the wall, looking at nothing. I take those first tentative steps in, so I don't have to yell. I can feel the anger emanating from him in waves of heat and discord. You can smell the confusion in his mood mingling with the funky clothes laying on the floor and countless Twinkie wrappers stuffed under his bed.
"Hey, Ringo, I'm sorry about that," I start, to try and at least let him know that wasn't planned.
"Look, save your fucking sorry, man. What, you gotta flaunt that all over the place?" The venom drips from his word as they float through the room to pool on the cluttered floor.
"I know you must be uncomfortable with John and I..." I stutter as I try to explain what has been going on.
"Uncomfortable?" he spits at me, flinging his head around and sitting up on the bed. His eyes are so wide in disbelief that I'm sure they'll roll out of his head. He is as angry as I've ever seen him. "Frohike...forget it. It's fucked up and you know it."
"What would you like me to say, Ringo? That I don't have any feelings for John? I do, and I'm too old to deny myself the love and affection I deserve." I'm just as angry. I didn't do this to him, I did this for me.
He looks at me for a minute, turning this over in his head. I can just about hear the gears grind and the whiff of wood smoke tickles my nose's imagination. Then it clicks for him, I guess, because his whole demeanor changes. He smiles and shakes his head, laughing. Ringo falls back onto his bed is a fit of giggles. He's laughing at me? How can he be laughing at me?
The blonde brat sits up and says, "You think I'm mad that you're fucking Byers? Well, yeah, I am, but it's not cuz I'm grossed out. Man, I'm just jealous you guys got each other and I got nobody. It's fucking depressing!"
"You mean, John and me being together...that doesn't freak you out? Cuz we were friends for so long, or cuz we're guys?" I ask, astonished at how I misread my comrade.
"Why the hell should I care who you two fuck? I just don't wanna see it because it reminds me that I'm not, OK?" he almost demands, as if we're teasing a dog with a treat.
I nod to him. He's right; we shouldn't be rude and screw around the house. Ringo is being gracious. And he is rarely gracious about anything, ever, which is a nice change. And I agree, we can't be rude.
"OK, kid, we'll be more discreet. And thanks." I nod to him and turn to leave.
"For what?" he asks, honestly.
"For not freaking out," I say, with equal honesty.
"What are friends for?" he says as he shrugs.
I leave him, closing his door gently behind me. I quietly creep back to the offices where I find John sitting at his laptop, performing yet another edit on his column. He turns to me and smiles.
"I see you aren't bleeding profusely. How did he take it?" John asks, trying to cover his fear with his dry humor.
"He took it better than I ever expected. Much better. And he would like us to be a little more discreet in our endeavors." What a clich euphemism, Melvin! But, for John's delicate tastes, it fits the bill. And since I love him like my life, I will speak as he wishes, act how he feels comfortable, but I will love him with the fervor he deserves.
I stand before him and hold him. He nuzzles his head into my neck. I stroke his back. Maybe now we can finally find some peace.
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