Give Me Just Enough, Part Three
Spencer's saying something, Jon knows he is, because Jon can see his mouth moving and hear Spencer-sounds coming out. It's sort of fading into the "wah wah wah" noises teachers make in the Charlie Brown cartoons, though, because Jon isn't paying attention.
Jon's paying attention to Ryan. Ryan went to the bar to get another round, and he's been talking to this petite brunette for at least five minutes while their drinks are sweating on the bartop.
He keeps touching her. Nothing big, nothing overt, just small touches to her elbow every once in a while. He's leaning down a little to hear what she's saying, body curving over hers comfortably, and he's smiling a lot.
Jon is very familiar with Ryan on the prowl; he just hasn't seen it in a while.
"Hey," Spencer finally says, loud enough that it gets Jon's attention. "What's taking Ryan so long?"
Spencer starts to crane his neck around to see, and Jon says, "I'm not his keeper, how would I know?" as if he hasn't been staring at Ryan the whole time.
When Spencer turns back, he's got an eyebrow raised, and Jon looks away, watching the dance floor instead. He thinks he sees Brendon for a minute. He wishes he weren't so bad at feigning indifference, because he knows Spencer isn't buying it.
"Is that, um, okay?" Spencer asks.
Jon shrugs. "It's not like we're dating or anything. He can do what he wants."
Spencer doesn't respond, and when Jon looks back to find out why -- because Spencer isn't good at keeping his mouth shut when he can tell people just how stupid they're being, and Jon knows he's being plenty stupid -- Ryan's standing at the table. His hands are full with their drinks, but Jon knows Ryan, and if his hands weren't full, one would be at the small of the girl's back, because yeah, she's there too.
In fact, she seems to be holding Jon's drink, because Ryan sets Spencer's drink down and takes a sip of his own drink, then motions for the girl to sit down next to Jon. Which, okay, that's kind of weird, and it hits Jon right in the gut. He feels fucking pathetic, but he smiles at her anyway when Ryan introduces her -- Jordan -- because it's not her fault Ryan thinks she's hot and decided to pick her up.
Jon's barely heard about how Jordan's going to school to get a marketing degree before Spencer's standing up and saying, "Sorry, bathroom." And then it's just him and Ryan and Ryan's pickup, and Jon's pretty sure he should be following Spencer's lead and getting out of their way, but he doesn't. He stays put like a tool, a total cockblock, while Ryan and Jordan talk.
Ryan keeps making these weird faces and lifting his eyebrows at Jon like it's supposed to be meaningful. The best Jon can figure, Ryan probably wants him to go away, but Jon's being a dick. He knows he is, being close-mouthed and just watching them smile at each other. He orders another drink and decides to get shit-faced.
He doesn't get a chance to, though. As soon as he's finished that drink, Ryan nudges Jon's leg under the table, then stands up. Jordan stands, too, and after a moment, so does Jon.
"We should head back to the hotel," Ryan says. He smiles at Jordan for the seventy-millionth time and asks, "You want to come with?"
Jon feels his jaw tighten, but he tries to relax it when Jordan looks from Ryan to him, then back to Ryan.
"Yeah?" she asks.
Ryan holds out his hand and she takes it. Before Jon can manage to grind his teeth into tiny nubs, Jordan reaches back and hooks a finger into his belt loop, tugging, and it all clicks into place.
Ohhhh. Suddenly Ryan's weird eyebrow action makes sense. Ryan didn't forget.
Jon freezes up in surprise, and Jordan and Ryan stop, too, both looking at him curiously. Jordan's fingers drop from his belt loop, and Jon stands there stupidly for a minute before he manages to speak.
"I'm gonna stick around here," he says. "You two have fun." The words stumble over each other out like he can't get rid of them fast enough, and his stomach hurts. It's stupid, fucking stupid. It was his idea, wasn't it?
"What?" Ryan says. "I mean... What?"
Jordan looks from him to Ryan, then carefully disentangles her hand from Ryan's. "It was nice meeting you," she says, "but, um, I think I'm gonna go find my friends."
Jon sees her eyes go a little wide on her way around him, like she's saying, "I don't think so" to herself, and it figures. She's smarter than both of them put together, probably.
Ryan drops back down at their table and stares after her blankly for a minute, until she's swallowed up by the crowd, and then he turns that stare on Jon. "I don't get it," he says, eyebrows drawn together.
Jon shrugs and asks, "You want another drink?"
Ryan nods, and Jon heads to the bar.
They're both more than a little drunk when they get back to the hotel, but Brendon and Spencer are too, so whatever.
"Come to our room," Jon offers when they get off the elevator and Brendon and Spencer start to peel off to go to their room. "I have some herbal refreshments."
Brendon laughs at him. "You're doing that thing again," he says. "Spencer, Jon's doing that thing," he says, lisping theatrically.
There's no way to say "shut up" without an "s" sound, so Jon smacks Brendon's arm halfheartedly. "None for you, then," he says, and Brendon makes a sad face at him.
It's a lie, of course, because Jon wants both of them there. The longer he can put off being alone with Ryan and actually having to talk, the better.
Jon doesn't have much left, but they smoke it companionably, Brendon leaning into Jon's side and rubbing his fingers over Jon's pants. They're corduroy.
Spencer's being all weird, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Ryan, whispering back and forth with him. Jon doesn't think he's just being paranoid that Spencer keeps looking at him meaningfully.
And Spencer and Brendon don't even have the decency to stick around so they can all enjoy the buzz together. They smoke and run, Spencer helping Brendon up before the smoke has even dissipated, and saying, "Don't forget Zack said we have to be out of here by nine."
The door closes behind them and Jon stares at it mournfully, but eventually he has to look away. He and Ryan are each leaning against the side of a bed, not right across from each other, but close enough to it that it would be weird not to look at Ryan.
Ryan's leaning his head back against the mattress, looking at the ceiling. His adam's apple bobs, and he says, "I'm sleepy."
Jon says, "I'm sorry." Then he winces. Here he was trying to put this conversation off, and he's the one who brings it up at the first chance. He's pretty sure he's the biggest idiot to have lived.
Ryan doesn't pretend to misunderstand, raising his head to meet Jon's eye. "What happened?" he asks.
"I didn't want to do it," Jon says.
"You didn't like her? I thought maybe... she looked like your type."
"I didn't not like her."
Ryan cocks his head and nudges Jon's leg with his bare toes. "We could find a guy instead. I mean, if that's what you want."
"No," Jon says automatically, emphatically,
Ryan blinks. "I don't get it. I thought you wanted some variety or something."
Ryan seems totally unaffected, just puzzled, like it doesn't matter to him at all if Jon wants some "variety." Jon wonders if that includes Jon wanting to fuck other people, if Ryan would even care. He doesn't think Ryan's been doing that kind of thing, but they never talked about anything, so it's not like Jon would have a right to be upset if Ryan were. Jon feels sick, and he doesn't think it has anything to do with anything he drank.
"No," Jon says quietly.
Jon sighs. "I wanted to see," he says.
"You already said that, when you first brought it up," Ryan says, and he sounds frustrated now, his foot pulling away from Jon's calf.
"I meant I wanted to see," Jon stresses. "It was stupid, okay? Nevermind."
"Wait, you want to, like, watch me fuck somebody else?"
"I thought I did," Jon says. "I was wrong."
"Can you please just fucking say what you mean?" Ryan says, huffing.
"I thought I wanted to see what it looked like when you fucked someone, but I don't. I mean," Jon swallows, then just says it: "I don't actually want you to fuck anyone else."
He doesn't know how he expected Ryan to react, but his whole body relaxes when he receives one of Ryan's slow-spreading smiles.
"Thank fucking god," Ryan says. "I thought you were trying to break up with me."
"Oh," Jon says quietly. "Are we, um?"
"Fuck yes, we are."
Jon could come up with a response, but fuck that. He crawls across the carpet, straddling Ryan's legs, and kisses Ryan instead.
Ryan kisses back eagerly but sloppily, the way he gets when he's tired and buzzed. Jon pulls back to drag in a breath and, predictably, manages to lose his balance. But Ryan brings his legs up, catching the brunt of Jon's weight above his knees. He groans out an "ow."
"Sorry." Jon shuffles forward until his knees are snug against Ryan's hips, then leans down to kiss him in apology.
Ryan's passive for a bit, letting Jon coax his mouth open and following Jon's lead, but then he's stroking Jon's hip with one hand and pushing the other underneath Jon's shirt. He pets over Jon's stomach, then shoves Jon's shirt up and rubs over one nipple, then the other.
"Take this off," he says, and Jon strips his shirt off, sighing when Ryan mouths at his neck and works his way down to suck at Jon's nipples.
"Let me ride you," Jon says, voice thick, and Ryan's hands go tight on Jon's hips, fingers digging in hard. He drags Jon's mouth down to his own.
It takes a while for them to make it to the bed, stopping to kiss and touch even while they're trying to strip down. They end up making out with Ryan's shirt still clinging to one arm where they forgot to unbutton the cuff.
Eventually, though, they're both naked and ready, and Ryan's worked Jon open enough that it feels more good than overwhelming when he sinks down on Ryan's cock.
He stops when he's got Ryan as deep as he can take him, and he catches Ryan's hand, dragging it back. "Feel it," he says roughly, and arches when Ryan does, rubbing where Jon's stretched around him. "That's what I want to see," Jon says, breath uneven. "I want to know what it looks like when you're inside."
Ryan groans and grabs Jon's hips, pulling him down and grinding up while Jon clenches around him. It's so fucking good, fucking perfect.
Ryan keeps his hands on Jon's hips while he moves, and he's talking, snatches of sentences around uneven breaths. "Should see it. I like watching it, pushing inside the first time, watching you take me. Stretch. Uhn, watching how stretched you are."
Jon growls and rides him harder, and Ryan keeps talking, murmuring low and disjointed. "So good like this. How much you love it, I love that. Turns me on so much."
"Fuck," Jon exhales. He goes still on top of Ryan and grabs his own cock, pumping fast. Ryan's grip on Jon's hips tightens, and he grinds his hips in small circles and watches, eyes wide and hungry when Jon comes over his fist and Ryan's belly.
He hasn't even started to catch his breath when Ryan flips them and pushes back inside, fucking Jon deep while he's pliant, shuddering. Ryan stiffens and comes with a groan.
After a minute of uneven breathing, Ryan shifts up onto his elbows and says, "So, no threesomes," like their conversation was never interrupted by mindblowing orgasms.
"None," Jon agrees, and pulls Ryan back down.
"We should videotape it sometime," Jon says.
"Us," Jon replies. "You know. I'd, um. I know it's stupid, but it'd be a good way, so I could see it."
A slow, sly smile slides across Ryan's face. "Oh, yeah? And why do you want to see it?"
"Shut up," Jon says. "You know why."
"Mmm, I do," Ryan's quiet for long enough that Jon thinks maybe he's fallen asleep, but then Ryan rolls onto his side to face Jon. "What would you want us to do?"
Jon's thought about it a lot, enough that he knows exactly what he wants and in what order. It's still slightly embarrassing to say it aloud, though. "Blowjob first. If you, um, if you could hold the camera. I want to see what it looks like when I go down on you."
"Ohhh," Ryan says. He breathes it, really, and any semblance that he's humoring Jon fades when he reaches out and strokes Jon's hip. "You said blowjob first. What else?"
"I'd want you to fuck me. Like, I don't know how we could set up the camera, but I want to see that, too."
"You want to watch me get you open?"
"I'd want to ride you, too. Just. I don't know if we could get the right angle if you were fucking me in another position, but if I rode you and we set up the camera behind me." Jon clears his throat. "Yeah."
Ryan's hand tightens on Jon's hip and he draws in a shaky breath. "Fuck." He's quiet before he says, "That's something I've kind of been wondering about. How much of this has been, uh, a size thing?"
Jon swallows. "It was never just a size thing. It's. I would never have fucked you just for your cock."
"I'd hoped not," Ryan say. "Though I did sort of wonder when you were talking about watching me fuck someone else."
"Yeah, don't remind me, I know that was stupid. I never would have been able to go through with it," Jon says, and he closes the gap between them to kiss Ryan lightly, stroking his fingers across Ryan's forehead to smooth out his brow. "Would've been too jealous."
"Would've wanted it yourself," Ryan says, smiling again.
"I would've gotten it myself."
"Yeah, you would've," Ryan says.
"Oh, my god," Jon says. "Take the lens cap off. I knew I should have done that for you."
"Shut up," Ryan says, fumbling it off. "I would have remembered it. Why don't you worry about getting naked?"
Jon rolls his eyes but shucks off his jeans and underwear, then pushes Ryan back toward the bed. "Sit," he says. "It'll be easier that way, I think. You didn't mess with the tripod, did you?"
"No. Do you want me to come?"
"From me talking about the tripod?"
"No, I mean. When you're blowing me. Do you want me to get that on tape?"
"This isn't porn, Ryan. It's a sex tape. We don't have to get a money shot."
"That's not what I meant," Ryan says, stilling Jon's hands when he reaches for Ryan's zipper. "I mean, if you want me to fuck you and get that on tape, too, we'll have to wait 'til I can get it up again if I come while you're blowing me."
"That is so thoughtful," Jon says, grinning. "I don't really care, though. I mean, we can wait to shoot the sex. We'll have to reset the camera and stuff before we fuck, anyway. And I'm sort of hungry, so maybe we could eat after the blowjob and wait a while before we shoot anything else, you know?"
"I could go for some food," Ryan agrees. "Can I start recording now?"
"Just a sec. Are we gonna record sound?"
"Fuck you, yes, we're recording sound," Ryan says, face aghast.
"Ohhhh, right," Jon says. "You have that thing for sex sounds."
"Like you have a thing for my cock," Ryan says smugly.
Jon slaps his thigh and says, "Shut up and turn the camera on."
He goes for Ryan's zipper again, and Ryan doesn't stop him. Jon glances up and makes sure that the red light is on, and then he ducks his head.
"I can't believe this," Jon bitches. "How hard is it to hold a camera?" He's glaring at the screen, where he can see part of the top of his own head and his shoulders. What he can't see is Ryan's cock or his own mouth. They veered out of the frame about a minute in and haven't made a reappearance since.
"Dude, have you ever tried to hold a camera while you sucked you off?"
Jon gives Ryan a look.
"You know what I mean," Ryan says weakly. "You should consider it a compliment to your blowjob skills."
Jon grumbles and fast-forwards despite Ryan's "Hey! I was listening to that."
Then Ryan says brightly, "I guess that just means we'll have to try again!"
"See, this is more like it," Jon says, setting the camera up carefully on the tripod and checking to make sure the lamp is out of frame, casting light without throwing off the light balance onscreen. It looks good. "Go sit against the headboard so I can figure out how much I should zoom in."
Ryan climbs on the bed and sits back, rubbing the bottom of one foot against the top of the other. He shifts to the left obediently when Jon makes a "move over" gesture with his hand.
"This would be easier if you had a clone who could do the camerawork," Ryan complains when Jon keeps fiddling with the settings for a couple minutes more.
"If I had a clone, I think we'd come up with better ways to spend our time with him that putting him to work behind a camera," Jon says.
Ryan's eyes go a little unfocused. "Oh. Yeah."
"I'm pressing record now," Jon says. He shoves off his boxers and climbs onto the bed, settling over Ryan's lap.
"This is definitely better," Ryan says, watching the small screen of the camera with wide eyes.
"Shut up and stop looking at that. We're supposed to watch it together." Jon finishes drying his hair off and throws his towel back into the bathroom. It lands on the floor next to Ryan's, and he snatches the camera from Ryan's greedy little paws, ignoring his pathetic grabbing gesture. Ryan's got long arms, but he never had to fight off older siblings. Jon has no worries Ryan's reach will ever best him.
"Why can't we watch it now?" Ryan asks.
"You really think either of us can get it up again tonight?"
Ryan thinks for a minute. "So?"
"So, when we watch it, I fully expect you to show me some appreciation for my fucking brilliant idea."
"What kind of appreciation?" Ryan asks.
"The kind of appreciation that includes your mouth on my cock," Jon says. "And this time, I'll be the one running the camera."
"I like it," Ryan says. "Are we going to have a whole library of sex tapes?"
Jon snorts. "I doubt it. We'll probably have to destroy them at some point, anyway." It's not that they're particularly famous, in the scheme of things, but Jon has decided to take Pete's experience as a cautionary tale.
"Yeah," Ryan sighs unhappily. "Life is so unfair."
Jon thinks for a minute, then crowds up behind Ryan, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You know, even if we have to destroy the video -- because yeah, that's identifiable -- we might be able to save something."
"What's that?" Ryan asks, resting his hand over Jon's.
"If we were really careful and didn't say each other's names," Jon stresses, "we could possibly save the audio. You could hear it."
"Oh," Ryan says softly. His fingers tighten against Jon's skin, and Jon can imagine how his eyes are probably darkening. "You think?"
"Mmm," Jon hums. "You could listen to it anytime you wanted. When I'm in Chicago, maybe," he suggests.
"You have the best ideas," Ryan says. Then he turns and wraps his arms behind Jon's neck. "What do I get you? A dildo made from a cast of my dick?"
"Greedy," Ryan admonishes.
"Well," Jon says, "you seem to like giving me what I want."
Ryan doesn't disagree.