The Private Party

Never happened, not implying anything, yadda-yadda-yadda.

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Billy sprinted into the bedroom with Ryan close at his heels. He tugged frantically at the zipper of his pants, fumbling with them until they dropped to his ankles. He relished the freedom for a moment, glancing back at the younger man with a dopey grin. Mistake number one was realized shortly after Billy's head collided with the floor after tripping over his pant legs, and the chair that had suddenly made a lunge for his shins.

"Are you alright?" Ryan questioned, gazing down at the fallen man with concerned brown eyes.

"Just a little embarrassed, no major injuries." Billy pulled himself off the floor and kicked his legs free of the offending garment.

Ryan reached for his now semi-naked friend, pulling him into a deep kiss before searching the room for the stereo. "I think we need a little mood music, don't you?"

Billy gestured casually over his shoulder. "Just hit Play. I think that whatever's in the CD player should be fine," he replied, thinking that the Marvin Gaye CD was still in there from their last tryst. Of course the expression of shock that crossed his face when the throbbing industrial cover of "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" came blaring from his speakers proved his assumption to be incorrect.

"What in the hell? You call this mood music? Since when do you listen to-" Ryan grabbed the CD case- "The Revolting Cocks?"

"Umm...I...uh, yeah well....uh...maybe we should leave the stereo off," Billy stammered as he went to grab the dark-haired singer again, crashing their mouths together before Ryan could utter a protest.

Their tongues met passionately, caressing the hidden crevasses of each others mouths, as the blond started to strip his young friend of his clothing. The red Atari t-shirt flew across the room, causing an innocent lamp to make painful contact with the floor, but the crash was ignored by the two men stumbling towards the bed with mouths still joined. Billy's shirt hit the floor next, leaving him in only his boxers as they tumbled onto the bed.

Things seemed to be going well until Billy's attempt at lowering Ryan's zipper pulled a loud screech from the young man.

"OWWW!" the damaged singer yelped.

"What the hell? What is caught in your zipper? Ryan, why aren't you wearing any underwear?"

"I thought it’d be sexy to go without. Oww! My fuckin' pubes are caught in the zipper. Jesus, I hope I don't have to go to the emergency room for this."

"I may have to get the scissors," Billy replied, fumbling with the zipper in a failed attempt at freeing his young friend.

"You think I’m going to let you near my dick with a sharp cutting implement?"

"Well, it's either that or you wander over to the hospital and try explaining why Ryan Malcolm has his pubic hair caught in his zipper in between signing autographs for the nurses' sixteen year old daughters. And since when do you know the meaning of big words like implement?"

"How long ago did we pass the seventh ring of Hell?"

"Christ, Ryan. Do we even have any scissors?"

"I have a pair in my backpack," the cringing man said, waving a hand at the bag that had been carelessly dropped by the door.

Billy moved over to the bag, opened it, and dumped its contents out onto the floor. Bottles of lubricant, dozens of condoms, a few magazines, a glossy photograph, a pair of handcuffs and finally the scissors spilled out. The older man laughed as he glanced at the objects now littering the floor. "I think I just stumbled upon the private stash of the entire Navy. You have enough shit in there to keep a porn store in business. Hey, what in the hell is this?" he asked, plucking the glossy photograph from the rubble.

"Do I ask questions about your jack-off material?" Ryan whined from the bed.

"The last time I checked my jack-off material did not include a naked picture of Justin Guarini. Where did you find such a monstrosity?"

"Just shut up and get the damn scissors."

Billy finally returned to the bed and proceeded to tuck the scissors under his friend's waistband, sawing away at the course curls that were locked in the steel jaws of the zipper. Ryan moaned when he was finally released from the captivity of his trousers.

"Now where were we?" he inquired, attempting to return to the thoroughly shattered mood from before. "Oh yeah, we were right about here," he said, yanking the older singer back down onto the bed with him, rolling over until he straddled Billy's hips.

The two men resumed their frantic kissing, the last vestiges of clothing being gone with Billy's boxers. They moved quickly, bodies crashing together in a wave of passionate heat. The lube that had been grabbed in a brief moment of foresight was slathered over the handsome blond's shaft, before he crawled out from under his brunet love's slender form. Billy pinned the younger man down, covering his body with moist kisses as he prepared to enter the warm, tight confines of Ryan's ass. He reached between their writhing bodies to probe his friend's tender opening with long, slender fingers.

Ryan moaned at the slightly painful pleasure of being stretched open. His hips rose to meet he questing digits, drawing them in deeper, silently pleading for more. "Fuck, Billy," he gasped, "God, just fuck me already."

Billy looked down at the trembling body of his lover, the muscles taut and quivering, eyes clenched shut, every fiber waiting, begging for completion. He leaned down to drop moist kisses along the brunet’s long throat as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his slick cock. He moved slowly, drawing out the moment, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped inch by inch in the tight heat of Ryan's body.

With their bodies joined, they started a slow pace, long, leisurely strokes allowing the heat the build between the two men. Ryan tired of the teasing thrusts first. "Harder, baby...God please...harder," the breathless plea came, as he reached his own hands down to stroke his aching and neglected erection. His request was met with the crashing of their mouths together, and the relentless pounding of their bodies meeting in an urgent need for release. Far too quickly, the moment of release crashed over the two, leaving them a tableau of breathless, sweaty pleasure.

"Billy, baby...God that was so good...fuck," Ryan panted. A loud snore was his only reply from the dead weight that was now passed out on top of him. "Well, so much for basking in the afterglow. How the hell am I going to get his ass off me long enough to go clean up?"

His thoughts were interrupted by the man charging through the door, only to let out a loud yelp when he saw his two friends in such a compromising position. "Ohmigod, my eyes!" Gary shouted, covering his face.

Ryan leapt out of bed, sending his snoozing lover hurtling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. "Christ! When did knocking become a foreign fucking concept?!" the furious brunet screeched.

"You do know you'll be paying for my therapy for the next twenty years until I get that picture out of my head," Gary proclaimed, desperately trying to avoid looking at the two naked men again.

"Well maybe if you didn't come barging into people's rooms like some sort of rhino on speed..."

"How was I supposed to know you two were going at it like rabbits?"

"Gary, why the hell are you still here?"

"My eyes have been burned from their sockets and I can't find the door?"

Billy tried in vain to blend into the shag carpeting as this exchange continued, while Ryan decided a more proactive approach was required, and hurled a pillow at the now hysterically laughing Gary. "Get out, you little pervert!"

Gary dodged the pillow and finally made a dash for the door, still chuckling. "Wait until E-talk Daily hears I just saw Canada's two hottest Idols naked," he squealed.

"Well, unless a small airplane crash-lands in the living room, I think it's safe to say that nothing more can go wrong this evening," Billy observed from his spot on the floor before succumbing to giggles.

"What's so damn funny?"

"Oh, come on. You have to admit this whole thing has been like some sort of badly written comedy."

"Yeah. I suppose it has been," Ryan chuckled. "And hey, look on the bright side: if we can make it through this and still be able to stand the sight of each other, that has to be a good sign, right?"

"Well, that or we need serious and intensive therapy."