Ready For More
Ryan/Jon, NC-17, ~2,500 words
Ryan's never been one to focus especially on the visuals of sex. He likes the feel, of course, the smell of sweat and come, doesn't even mind the salty flavor of both on his tongue. But he loves, loves the sounds.
Still, he can't deny the appeal of watching his cock sink into Jon, knowing Jon's never been taken quite like this before Ryan, never been stretched so wide. With as long as they've been together, Ryan should have gotten used to it, but he still hasn't, still hasn't gotten past the fact that Jon likes this so much with him. Ryan feels an absurd surge of pride over his cock, one he hasn't felt since high school. Back then, he was being taunted about being scrawny, being unathletic, being a loser ... until P.E. was over and they hit the showers. Then all those jerks were sneaking glances at him with clear awe and envy.
Ryan smooths one hand up Jon's back, sliding slickly across sweat-sheened skin, and presses it down, between Jon's shoulder blades, holding him still. Jon doesn't fight it, pliant and hot under Ryan's palm.
The submissiveness of Jon's position, on his knees and elbows, with his nape bared to Ryan and his hands gripping the slats of the headboard, sends another surge of arousal through Ryan. He rolls his hips forward, watching his cock slide in deep, disappearing inside, then coming back out shiny, slick with lube. But even the visual has nothing on the sounds Jon makes, the tiny grunts each time Ryan pushes in. Ryan leans forward, flattening himself along Jon's back so he can feel the moans rumbling against his chest when he grinds in, barely moving inside Jon. He tests carefully, switching angles in small stabs of his hips, until Jon cries out and shudders enough that Ryan stays there, jabbing his hips forward to hit that spot again and again.
"Ryan," Jon gasps.
Ryan levers himself up off of Jon's back and pushes in deep. "Good?" Ryan asks, even though he knows the answer from the sounds Jon's making, from the tight clench of his body and the way Jon's arching his back, trying to get all he can.
Ryan watches Jon's face turn on the pillow, eyes dropped shut and mouth dropped open, and Jon says, "Harder, Ryan, please," voice cracking on Ryan's name.
Ryan pets down Jon's back, from the nape of his neck down to the base of his spine, and then he grabs Jon's hips in both hands and pulls at him, coaxes until Jon's knees are open wider, balls swaying heavy between his spread thighs. Ryan palms them against Jon's body, fingering the space behind them and feeling Jon shiver, before he reaches forward and gives Jon his hand, curling his fingers loose around Jon's cock while the fingers of his other hand dig into Jon's hip.
Ryan has his own knees planted firmly on the bed, far enough apart for stability, and he says, "Fuck yourself, Jon," guiding Jon's hips back until Ryan's in to the hilt, Jon's ass flush against Ryan's pelvis. "C'mon," he urges, tugging Jon's cock until Jon moans and starts flexing his thighs minutely, working himself on Ryan's dick. His movements are small and shallow at first, his sounds aborted and unsatisfied, and Ryan waits, holding as still as he can. Jon tries to get it deeper, better, and his leg slips in the sheets. Ryan's hand on his hip and cock in his ass keep Jon in place, and Jon makes a small, distressed sound that makes Ryan roll his hips forward, sheathing himself fully, before he stops, holding still and waiting again.
"Ryan, please," Jon says. "I can't. This isn't enough. I need you to fuck me."
It isn't really begging, despite the "please." It's Jon being as open with what he wants and needs as he always is with his body. And Ryan can't refuse that kind of request. He'll give Jon what he needs. But first...
"You want something else?" Ryan asks, stroking Jon's cock slow and steady.
Jon laughs, smothering the sound in the pillow, but Ryan can feel it everywhere they're touching, and oh. His eyes flutter closed at the grip of Jon around him, but he forces them back open.
"Yeah, I want something different," Jon says, amusement clear in his voice, even as hazy as it sounds from arousal. "I want you to fuck me instead of trying to make me fuck myself on your cock. Fucking give it to me, as hard as you can. You know I can take it."
Ryan shudders when Jon bucks underneath him, and he slams home when his cock starts to slip out.
"Yeah," Jon growls. "Come on."
Ryan stills. Jon groans.
"Hold on," Ryan says. "If you want me to fuck you, I'm going to fuck you. But if you want it really hard, I'm not going to be touching your cock," he explains, giving Jon's dick a couple of tight tugs and rubbing his thumb around the crown, over the slit, sliding wetly to rub just under the head.
"I know how to jack myself off," Jon says, impatience creeping into his voice. "Just get on with it already."
Ryan takes Jon at his word, releasing his cock and grabbing his hips in both hands again. He pulls back quickly, then shoves forward sharply, setting the pace fast and hard.
Jon's noises are addictive, the "uhn, uhn," each time Ryan slams in deep, until it's an almost constant moan. Ryan tries to stay silent himself because he wants to hear Jon, but he can't help the occasional gasp or grunt, not when he's pounding into the tight clutch of Jon's body, sweat dripping down his nose and onto Jon's broad back, trickling down Ryan's spine and between his cheeks, gathering there until he's slick, too, and god, god, he wants Jon to fuck him as soon as they can both get it up again.
The slick sounds of his cock in Jon's ass, the slap of his balls on Jon's skin, Jon's moans, the creak of the bed -- it all comes into sharp focus when Ryan closes his eyes, and it's as much those sounds as the sex itself that sends Ryan tripping toward the edge -- too close too soon.
Ryan forces himself to hold still, forces himself to ignore Jon's throaty whine, and he grips the base of his cock as he pulls out, even as Jon clenches down to try to keep him inside. Ryan groans and tries to tune out the sound of Jon's hand on his own cock, looking over Jon's body: Jon's legs spread wide and welcoming, Jon's back heaving for breath and covered in sweat, Jon's head bowed and his nape flushed, Jon's shoulder and arm flexing while he works his cock.
"Ryan," he grinds out, "I fucking hate you."
Ryan ignores it; he knows better. "I want to ask you something," Ryan says as evenly as possible, breath shallow from the exertion. He circles one finger around Jon's hole, stretched and open for (by) Ryan's dick, then buries two fingers in the slick, loosened heat. He loves feeling Jon when he's open like this, ready for more. Ryan finger fucks him slowly, lets Jon keep jerking off.
"Well?" Jon finally says. He's probably trying to sound mad, but the drugged edge his voice always takes on when he's well-fucked dampens the heat.
"I want to take off the condom," Ryan says as calmly as he can, trying not to betray the lust that claws at his belly at the next thought: "I want to come inside you." As an afterthought, he says, "I'm clean." He winces almost immediately, knows it comes out sounding all wrong, but it's Jon, and it's Ryan, and it's about way more than marking possession. They both know Ryan belongs to Jon just as much as Jon belongs to Ryan.
Still, Jon freezes completely for a minute, then flails an arm back, smacking at Ryan's hand. Ryan pulls his fingers from Jon's ass regretfully, rubbing around the stretched ring of muscle one more time before he moves and gives Jon space to roll onto his back. Jon pushes himself up onto his elbows and glares up at Ryan, who knee-walks until he's back between Jon's thighs, petting them, smoothing the hair down and meeting Jon's gaze head-on, not even trying to hide his desire, his need, not anymore.
"Ryan Ross," Jon says reproachfully. "We wouldn't be doing this if I didn't know you were clean. We're way past that shit. Jesus." Jon takes a deep breath, and his expression softens even as his tone lightens. "Also, you're an asshole. You got me all frustrated on purpose because you wanted me to get desperate enough that I'd let you do whatever you wanted."
It's not a question -- Jon knows Ryan well enough -- but it's not real anger, so Ryan smiles.
With a shrug, he says, "You do get kind of needy."
Jon narrows his eyes at Ryan, but he doesn't try to bat him away when Ryan reaches down to fist Jon's cock in one hand while he wraps the other hand around his own cock. He uses the same pace, the same twist over the head, on both of them. It's Jon's pace, Jon's twist, and it feels deeply intimate to use it on himself while Jon watches, lashes fluttering before Jon falls back on the bed, spreading his legs wider.
"So?" Ryan prompts, rubbing that spot under the head of both their cocks. Jon loves that spot.
Jon cracks one eye open and lets a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah," he says, voice rough with its own excitement, and the arousal in Ryan's belly curls tighter, goes hothothot. "Just don't get me pregnant," Jon says, before Ryan leans down and swallows Jon's words, settling heavily on top of Jon and fitting their mouths together just right. He opens for Jon and rubs their cocks together in time with their tongues.
Jon pulls back and says, "Now, please," politely.
Ryan responds in kind, politely wrapping one of Jon's thighs around his waist and pushing the other up, up, waiting until Jon puts his fingers behind his own knee and holds himself open, eyes hot, following Ryan's hand down. He watches while Ryan strips off the condom and throws it carelessly to the floor beside the bed. Jon passes him the lube silently, and he slicks himself up again, then leans down to kiss Jon one more time, guiding his cock until the naked head is pressed to Jon's hole. It rubs there wetly, slick with lube and with -- oh, god -- precome.
"Yeah?" Ryan says.
"Mmmm," is Jon's response, his leg tightening around Ryan's waist.
Ryan eases his hips forward and sinks back inside, the head of his cock stretching the ring of muscle, then popping through, followed by the slow slide of the shaft, until Ryan's fully seated again. In his head, he knows the sensation can't really be all that different just because his cock is bare instead of covered by a thin layer of latex, but they both groan, and oh, fuck, it feels different, Ryan thinks.
This time Jon doesn't have to ask for anything; Ryan eases back, then rams back inside, reveling in Jon's cry of pleasure. He fucks Jon as hard as he can, until the headboard's banging against the wall rhythmically.
"Uhn," Jon grunts out. "So good."
If Ryan had words at his disposal, he'd agree, but it takes him a full dozen thrusts and some hard thinking to manage to say, "Touch yourself."
"Nnnn," Jon says. He's not trying to say no, though, because his hand slides down readily enough, and he grabs his cock, jerking it roughly and clenching tight around Ryan's dick.
"Yeah, yeah," Ryan chants, until it turns into a guttural moan. He slams inside again and again, control forgotten, and the sound of Jon's ragged, desperate, "Ryan!" does it. Ryan's cock jerks, and he's coming inside Jon, rhythm gone but his hips still pushing forward forcefully as he empties himself inside, keeps his dick in deep even as it starts to go soft.
He almost doesn't notice the way Jon stiffens when he realizes Ryan's spilling inside him, the way Jon's balls pull up tight, pumping out his release, spurt after spurt spattering his fist and his belly. "Oh, oh, fuck," Jon says, stripping his cock frantically until Ryan collapses onto him.
They're both panting, and Jon eventually pushes weakly at Ryan's shoulders. "Heavy," he says, and Ryan manages to rise up on his elbows so he can see Jon's face when he pulls his soft cock out of him. Jon shudders, and Ryan smooths one hand over Jon's stubbled cheek even as he pushes a finger into Jon quickly, cock twitching painfully at the thought that his finger's sliding in partially on the slickness of his own semen.
"Oh!" Jon cries, writhing on Ryan's finger. "What are you--"
Ryan fingers him lightly, rubs at Jon's prostate, and Jon falls silent, body jerking. Ryan dips his finger in deeper, fitting in another beside it but trying to be careful, because he knows Jon's bound to be feeling raw and swollen. It's a little gross, and he knows it, but when he pulls his fingers out, he pushes one into his mouth, licking it clean, tasting Jon and lube and his own come. It's not...it doesn't taste good, of course it doesn't, but it's so fucking hot, fucking amazing that they can do this now. Ryan sighs contentedly and looks up to see that Jon's eyes have gone a little glassy, fixed on Ryan's mouth. Jon opens his mouth readily when Ryan drags the other fingertip across Jon's lips. Jon sucks at it softly.
"Thank you," Ryan says, and replaces his finger with his mouth, rolling them onto their sides and kissing Jon deeply, hungrier than he should be so soon after coming, intoxicated by the taste of both of them on Jon's tongue.
"It was good," Jon murmurs when Ryan pulls back to kiss at Jon's chin, down Jon's throat, burying his nose at the crook of Jon's neck.
"Yeah?" Ryan asks sleepily.
"Mmm," Jon agrees. "I'm going to be feeling it for a couple of days, I think."
Ryan smiles against Jon's collar bone.
"I felt that, you jerk," Jon says. "But next time, I'm fucking you, and I'm going to be the one coming in your ass."
Ryan smiles again, softly. "I don't mind if you get me pregnant," he says. "I'd have your babies, Jon Walker."
Jon squeezes Ryan closer. "I love you," he says.
"Me too," Ryan tells Jon's chest. He kisses right over Jon's heart, then lays his head down there, so he can listen to the beat as he falls asleep.