OC Fic - OCSFC4 (story #2)
And the second story...
Title : A Little Frustration (Is Good For the Soul)
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13. Some smut near the end, but nothing horribly graphic...
Summary : Written for the Fourth Annual OC Sentence Fiction Challenge. Sheelock requested "Ryan was frustrated, not just emotionally but sexually as well." Variations on a theme…
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN. Many thanks to the ever-awesomejoey51 for beta'ing this. I couldn't help some post-beta'ing tinkering; all remaining mistakes are mine.
And while we're doing the Oscars thing, huge thanks to ctoan as well for organizing the challenge.
A Little Frustration (Is Good For the Soul)
Helen C.
Ryan was frustrated-not just emotionally, but sexually as well.
Dating Marissa was proving to be much more exhausting and demanding than he had expected.
"Maybe we should talk about… you know, us. Where we are. Where we're going."
He refrained from replying that they were in a car, somewhere in Newport Beach, California (United States of America, Planet Earth, somewhere in the Milky Way, apparently situated in a remote point of the Universe) and going to school. Damn, he shouldn't have read that Douglas Adams book last night. "Yeah," he said instead. "Sure."
That was what she wanted to hear and she smiled at him before turning her attention back to the road. He was getting good at guessing what she wanted to hear. He had never really practiced the skill with a girlfriend, but generally speaking, he had always been good at guessing what people wanted to hear. No, Mom, I don't need you to attend this soccer game, or any game at all, ever. Yes, Trey, you're a good brother, and no, it doesn't matter that you sold my bike to pay these guys you cheated at poker. Yeah, sure, Sandy, I'm fitting in. Of course, Marissa, let's discuss our relationship. No problem at all.
Sometimes, he wished people would see past the lies, past the empty words.
Sometimes, he wished someone would call him on it, would pressure him into telling the truth. It would still have been nice if his mother had come to one of his soccer games every once in a while. It did matter that Trey sold his only fucking way of transportation, in the summer, when he needed to get to work. He wasn't sure he would ever fit in Newport. And he had no idea what he was going to tell Marissa.
Dealing with people was so damn complicated, all the time-meeting their expectations, guessing what they wanted out of him, saying the right things at the right times. Preserving the status quo, because difficult as it was, he wasn't sure he was ready to be more honest, wasn't sure he was ready to open doors he wouldn't know how to close again.
Marissa parked the car in front of the school, turned to him and pressed a kiss on his lips, her hair tickling his neck. He tried to lean in, to put a hand behind her head, but she pulled away. "We need to go," she whispered. "We'll be late."
Probation or not, he wasn't far from saying, "To hell with it," but she was already reaching for the door handle, leaving him with little choice but to exit the car and follow her out.
He ignored the lingering feeling of her lips against his, tried to tell himself that it was good that they were taking it slow, that Marissa was dealing with a lot, that they couldn't afford to screw up, that she needed time and that he needed it too.
All perfectly reasonable arguments, really.
If he repeated them to himself enough, maybe he would even start believing them.
"Later today?" Marissa asked, reminding him of their impending discussion.
He nodded, forced a smile. "Yeah, sure. Later."
***
Ryan was frustrated-sexually, yes, but mostly emotionally (which wasn't any easier to deal with).
He wished there was something-anything-he could do, but he was well and truly stuck. Whatever he was going through, it had to be ten thousand times worse for Theresa. She was the one who had to deal with the physical effects of the pregnancy. She was the one who was sick and achy and dealing with a whirlwind of emotions.
Sure, he was sixteen and he had signed on to take care of a kid that might not be his, but he had walked into this situation with his eyes open.
He could walk out at any time.
He wouldn't, no matter how much his practical self tried to push him in that direction. He had given his word, and Theresa was his oldest friend, and she had helped him countless times when they were growing up. He would stand by her, even if deep down, he knew damn well that he was being stupid and ridiculous.
He would stand by her, even if it meant throwing away everything he had worked so hard to achieve in Newport. Even if it meant losing the Cohens.
He tried to cling to the reassurances both Sandy and Kirsten had uttered before he had left, their promise that he would always be welcome in Newport, that he could come visit them. That he could come back whenever he wanted, no questions asked. That they would always help him.
He had believed them, then.
But now, he was in Chino, trying to play the husband when he had never had a decent role model, when he didn't know what he was supposed to do, how he could help Theresa to shoulder her burden. The Cohens lived more than an hour away, and he wasn't sure anymore how long their invitation would remain open. They had implied forever, sure, but Ryan hadn't lived with them for that long. Forever rarely happened outside of fairy tales, and this wasn't a fairy tale. This was gritty, cold life, and life didn't play fair.
"Did the Cohens call?" Theresa asked, from her seat near the window.
Ryan shook his head, unsurprised at her ability to zero in on what was bothering him. They knew each other too well; there was too much history between them to be able to lie to one another.
"I'm sure they will," she offered.
Ryan tried to smile, but the doubt in her voice was glaringly obvious. Seth had left Newport, Ryan was here in Chino, and the Cohens… Well, the Cohens had their own problems to deal with, between Seth and Mr. Nichol. It was understandable that they hadn't called in over a week. It was understandable that they didn't have that much time for Ryan.
Theresa was waiting for an answer so he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'm sure they will."
Then, he got to his feet, fingering his lighter. Theresa frowned when she saw him take his cigarette pack out of his pocket and step out in the street to smoke, but she didn't comment. Ryan almost wished she did. Maybe then, it would feel like home.
***
Ryan was frustrated-sexually, yes (it was obviously written somewhere that he was condemned not to get laid ever again), but mostly, he was frustrated with the situation.
"Do you think I should talk to him?" Lindsay asked, for the tenth time in an hour.
"I don't know," Ryan repeated. If he learned that his father was Caleb Nichol, he'd probably skip town to avoid having to deal with him, but he couldn't deny that Mr. Nichol was mostly decent to his family. It was people he saw as interlopers he had issues with.
The man had been nothing but decent to Lindsay-aside from the part where he had abandoned her with her mother, and had paid said mother to keep silent-and Ryan understood that Lindsay was craving some kind of relationship with him, if only so she could see for herself what kind of man he was.
It didn't mean that he couldn't worry about her, though.
It didn't mean that he couldn't worry about what a father/daughter relationship between Lindsay and Caleb would mean for the relationship between Lindsay and Ryan.
It didn't mean he had to forget that Caleb had always treated him like a bug he would have found crawling on his lettuce (well, Caleb hadn't crushed him yet, but given half a chance, he probably wouldn't hesitate to do so).
"If he was your father…" Lindsay started, then trailed off, grimacing, diverting her gaze. "I mean, if your father…" She stopped altogether and Ryan tried to keep his voice and his face neutral.
"He isn't," he said. And if Frank came to see him, he wouldn't give him the time of the day, let alone a chance to make things right.
Except you would. You know you would. Trey, Dawn, Frank, they're all part of you. You'll never deny any of them another chance. And another. And another.
"Yes," he eventually said. Yes, you should try to talk to Caleb. It's what I would do, and my father is probably worse than yours. At least, Caleb protected his family, most times. Frank didn't. Ever.
Lindsay sniffed a little, teary eyed, and leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. "Thanks," she said.
"Anytime," he replied, knowing he had gotten the right answers, told her what she wanted to hear, when she leaned into him.
***
Ryan was frustrated-not so much sexually anymore, Sadie had seen to that-but emotionally.
Everyone seemed to expect him to just bounce back from Johnny's death like nothing had happened. Marissa had all but accused him of being happy Johnny was gone. Seth had actually joked about it, like it was a good news and not a tragedy that had shaken Ryan to the core.
Every time he tried to speak to one of the Cohens these days, he felt like he was yelling in an overcrowded room full of noise and chatter, and that no one heard him-or that no one wanted to hear him.
He knew he was a pain to deal with. He was a trouble magnet. He kept getting into these situations, he kept needing the Cohens' support when he should have tried to help them instead. Kirsten was dealing with so much already, Sandy was trying to keep the company afloat and Seth was trying to deal with mixed feelings about leaving home next year.
Life in Newport should have been getting easier, but it wasn't.
He just wanted someone, anyone, to tell him that everything was going to be all right, even if it was a lie, even if he didn't really believe it.
So far, no one was stepping up to try to lie to him. He wondered how long it would take for someone to do it.
He wondered how long he would keep hoping before giving up.
***
Ryan was frustrated-more so than he had ever been.
Fuck, but wasn't college supposed to be all about sex and parties and beer (but mostly sex)?
Taylor had been gone for three months, and he still missed her like she had gone yesterday. He missed having her close, missed waking up next to her in the morning. He missed talking to her. He missed her high pitched laughter and her mischievousness and her very personal logic. He missed having her in bed with him, coming with his name on her lips, flushed and disheveled and vulnerable.
Yeah, sure, that internship in Paris was an opportunity she couldn't miss, but fuck, he missed sex.
Maybe that made him a pathetic male ruled by his penis, but so be it.
He was a college student and yeah, he loved his life, but that didn't mean nothing was missing.
There was a brisk knock on the door and he half-heartedly got to his feet to reply, expecting his neighbor to ask him for that mix CD Seth had sent over two weeks earlier. Said CD was making the rounds, passing from one room to the other in the whole damn building. Ryan was still working on a way to tell Seth that he wasn't much into music, but if it made other people happy...
He felt a huge smile break on his face when he saw Taylor, perky smile in place, standing in the hallway, a sports bag in hand. "I asked for a weekend off," she said. "Seth told me you've been brooding."
"Seth exaggerates." Seth always exaggerated. Just because Ryan was starting to wonder if it was possible to die of sheer frustration didn't mean he was brooding. He had left brooding behind when he had left Newport. These days, he… reflected. On his life. Yes.
He took a step back to allow her to enter, his eyes following her, taking in the way she walked in like she owned the room, her hair shiny in the sunlight filtering through the half-drawn blinds.
God, he had missed her.
"I don't think he does," she replied, looking around, then facing him, eyebrows raised.
Okay, so, his place was less neat than usual.
A lot less neat.
"You live in a dump," she pointed out.
"I don't."
"It's cute," she added. "That you missed me so much."
He tried not to glare at her.
"I was just enjoying my days as a bachelor," he replied. "No girlfriend to keep me whipped, you know."
She gave him a sweet smile. "Interesting choice of words," she said. She set the bag on the floor, opened it enough that Ryan spotted a feather lying on top, then straightened back. "Strip off, mister," she said.
He did without a word, heart starting to beat a little faster in his chest.
"I know it sucks that I had to leave for Paris for so long, so soon before graduation," she said conversationally, letting her eyes travel up and down Ryan's body appreciatively. "And may I add, it's nice to see that you didn't stop working out."
Yeah, well, during her absence, he'd had to do something to release pent-up energy. And yes, he may have gone slightly overboard, but from the way she was looking at him, she didn't mind.
She approached him and let her hand trail down his chest, all the way to his belly. He gulped audibly and her smile widened. She planted a kiss on his lips, quick and light.
"Well, I'm here now." She guided him to the bed and he lay down, trying to keep his breathing steady as she stripped down for him, slowly, teasingly.
He gasped when she straddled him and kissed him, deeply, the kiss going straight to his groin. She giggled but didn't speak, instead fetching the feather from the bag while he stared at the ceiling and remembered all the reasons why he loved her.
He moaned when she trailed the feather over his chest, teasing his nipples to hardness, softly grazing the sensitive skin with her teeth when she wasn't using the feather on them.
Ryan closed his eyes when Taylor moved down, and down, and down, his hips bucking involuntarily at the too light touch.
Then, he lost track of what was happening, lost in the sensations, looking her in the eyes as she rode him, slowly, forcing him to adapt to her slow rhythm until he was clutching the sheets and begging her incoherently.
They came together with a cry and she fell down on the bed next to him.
"Was it as good as in your memories?" she asked, sneaking an arm on his waist.
"It was perfect," he replied, his voice hoarse. She smiled but didn't tease him for it.
She rested her head on his chest and he trailed the skin of her back with lazy fingers, enjoying the warmth of her presence.
Let's stay like this forever, he wanted to say. Forget the outside world. Let's just stay here forever.
Taylor gave a small, contented smile, and her leg brushed against his.
He smiled up at the ceiling. No matter how much he wished he could keep her like this forever, he couldn't. But he could still savor this moment-and the countless others that would follow.
"I love you," Taylor whispered, almost shyly.
"I love you too."
end
Title : A Little Frustration (Is Good For the Soul)
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13. Some smut near the end, but nothing horribly graphic...
Summary : Written for the Fourth Annual OC Sentence Fiction Challenge. Sheelock requested "Ryan was frustrated, not just emotionally but sexually as well." Variations on a theme…
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN. Many thanks to the ever-awesomejoey51 for beta'ing this. I couldn't help some post-beta'ing tinkering; all remaining mistakes are mine.
And while we're doing the Oscars thing, huge thanks to ctoan as well for organizing the challenge.
A Little Frustration (Is Good For the Soul)
Helen C.
Ryan was frustrated-not just emotionally, but sexually as well.
Dating Marissa was proving to be much more exhausting and demanding than he had expected.
"Maybe we should talk about… you know, us. Where we are. Where we're going."
He refrained from replying that they were in a car, somewhere in Newport Beach, California (United States of America, Planet Earth, somewhere in the Milky Way, apparently situated in a remote point of the Universe) and going to school. Damn, he shouldn't have read that Douglas Adams book last night. "Yeah," he said instead. "Sure."
That was what she wanted to hear and she smiled at him before turning her attention back to the road. He was getting good at guessing what she wanted to hear. He had never really practiced the skill with a girlfriend, but generally speaking, he had always been good at guessing what people wanted to hear. No, Mom, I don't need you to attend this soccer game, or any game at all, ever. Yes, Trey, you're a good brother, and no, it doesn't matter that you sold my bike to pay these guys you cheated at poker. Yeah, sure, Sandy, I'm fitting in. Of course, Marissa, let's discuss our relationship. No problem at all.
Sometimes, he wished people would see past the lies, past the empty words.
Sometimes, he wished someone would call him on it, would pressure him into telling the truth. It would still have been nice if his mother had come to one of his soccer games every once in a while. It did matter that Trey sold his only fucking way of transportation, in the summer, when he needed to get to work. He wasn't sure he would ever fit in Newport. And he had no idea what he was going to tell Marissa.
Dealing with people was so damn complicated, all the time-meeting their expectations, guessing what they wanted out of him, saying the right things at the right times. Preserving the status quo, because difficult as it was, he wasn't sure he was ready to be more honest, wasn't sure he was ready to open doors he wouldn't know how to close again.
Marissa parked the car in front of the school, turned to him and pressed a kiss on his lips, her hair tickling his neck. He tried to lean in, to put a hand behind her head, but she pulled away. "We need to go," she whispered. "We'll be late."
Probation or not, he wasn't far from saying, "To hell with it," but she was already reaching for the door handle, leaving him with little choice but to exit the car and follow her out.
He ignored the lingering feeling of her lips against his, tried to tell himself that it was good that they were taking it slow, that Marissa was dealing with a lot, that they couldn't afford to screw up, that she needed time and that he needed it too.
All perfectly reasonable arguments, really.
If he repeated them to himself enough, maybe he would even start believing them.
"Later today?" Marissa asked, reminding him of their impending discussion.
He nodded, forced a smile. "Yeah, sure. Later."
***
Ryan was frustrated-sexually, yes, but mostly emotionally (which wasn't any easier to deal with).
He wished there was something-anything-he could do, but he was well and truly stuck. Whatever he was going through, it had to be ten thousand times worse for Theresa. She was the one who had to deal with the physical effects of the pregnancy. She was the one who was sick and achy and dealing with a whirlwind of emotions.
Sure, he was sixteen and he had signed on to take care of a kid that might not be his, but he had walked into this situation with his eyes open.
He could walk out at any time.
He wouldn't, no matter how much his practical self tried to push him in that direction. He had given his word, and Theresa was his oldest friend, and she had helped him countless times when they were growing up. He would stand by her, even if deep down, he knew damn well that he was being stupid and ridiculous.
He would stand by her, even if it meant throwing away everything he had worked so hard to achieve in Newport. Even if it meant losing the Cohens.
He tried to cling to the reassurances both Sandy and Kirsten had uttered before he had left, their promise that he would always be welcome in Newport, that he could come visit them. That he could come back whenever he wanted, no questions asked. That they would always help him.
He had believed them, then.
But now, he was in Chino, trying to play the husband when he had never had a decent role model, when he didn't know what he was supposed to do, how he could help Theresa to shoulder her burden. The Cohens lived more than an hour away, and he wasn't sure anymore how long their invitation would remain open. They had implied forever, sure, but Ryan hadn't lived with them for that long. Forever rarely happened outside of fairy tales, and this wasn't a fairy tale. This was gritty, cold life, and life didn't play fair.
"Did the Cohens call?" Theresa asked, from her seat near the window.
Ryan shook his head, unsurprised at her ability to zero in on what was bothering him. They knew each other too well; there was too much history between them to be able to lie to one another.
"I'm sure they will," she offered.
Ryan tried to smile, but the doubt in her voice was glaringly obvious. Seth had left Newport, Ryan was here in Chino, and the Cohens… Well, the Cohens had their own problems to deal with, between Seth and Mr. Nichol. It was understandable that they hadn't called in over a week. It was understandable that they didn't have that much time for Ryan.
Theresa was waiting for an answer so he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'm sure they will."
Then, he got to his feet, fingering his lighter. Theresa frowned when she saw him take his cigarette pack out of his pocket and step out in the street to smoke, but she didn't comment. Ryan almost wished she did. Maybe then, it would feel like home.
***
Ryan was frustrated-sexually, yes (it was obviously written somewhere that he was condemned not to get laid ever again), but mostly, he was frustrated with the situation.
"Do you think I should talk to him?" Lindsay asked, for the tenth time in an hour.
"I don't know," Ryan repeated. If he learned that his father was Caleb Nichol, he'd probably skip town to avoid having to deal with him, but he couldn't deny that Mr. Nichol was mostly decent to his family. It was people he saw as interlopers he had issues with.
The man had been nothing but decent to Lindsay-aside from the part where he had abandoned her with her mother, and had paid said mother to keep silent-and Ryan understood that Lindsay was craving some kind of relationship with him, if only so she could see for herself what kind of man he was.
It didn't mean that he couldn't worry about her, though.
It didn't mean that he couldn't worry about what a father/daughter relationship between Lindsay and Caleb would mean for the relationship between Lindsay and Ryan.
It didn't mean he had to forget that Caleb had always treated him like a bug he would have found crawling on his lettuce (well, Caleb hadn't crushed him yet, but given half a chance, he probably wouldn't hesitate to do so).
"If he was your father…" Lindsay started, then trailed off, grimacing, diverting her gaze. "I mean, if your father…" She stopped altogether and Ryan tried to keep his voice and his face neutral.
"He isn't," he said. And if Frank came to see him, he wouldn't give him the time of the day, let alone a chance to make things right.
Except you would. You know you would. Trey, Dawn, Frank, they're all part of you. You'll never deny any of them another chance. And another. And another.
"Yes," he eventually said. Yes, you should try to talk to Caleb. It's what I would do, and my father is probably worse than yours. At least, Caleb protected his family, most times. Frank didn't. Ever.
Lindsay sniffed a little, teary eyed, and leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. "Thanks," she said.
"Anytime," he replied, knowing he had gotten the right answers, told her what she wanted to hear, when she leaned into him.
***
Ryan was frustrated-not so much sexually anymore, Sadie had seen to that-but emotionally.
Everyone seemed to expect him to just bounce back from Johnny's death like nothing had happened. Marissa had all but accused him of being happy Johnny was gone. Seth had actually joked about it, like it was a good news and not a tragedy that had shaken Ryan to the core.
Every time he tried to speak to one of the Cohens these days, he felt like he was yelling in an overcrowded room full of noise and chatter, and that no one heard him-or that no one wanted to hear him.
He knew he was a pain to deal with. He was a trouble magnet. He kept getting into these situations, he kept needing the Cohens' support when he should have tried to help them instead. Kirsten was dealing with so much already, Sandy was trying to keep the company afloat and Seth was trying to deal with mixed feelings about leaving home next year.
Life in Newport should have been getting easier, but it wasn't.
He just wanted someone, anyone, to tell him that everything was going to be all right, even if it was a lie, even if he didn't really believe it.
So far, no one was stepping up to try to lie to him. He wondered how long it would take for someone to do it.
He wondered how long he would keep hoping before giving up.
***
Ryan was frustrated-more so than he had ever been.
Fuck, but wasn't college supposed to be all about sex and parties and beer (but mostly sex)?
Taylor had been gone for three months, and he still missed her like she had gone yesterday. He missed having her close, missed waking up next to her in the morning. He missed talking to her. He missed her high pitched laughter and her mischievousness and her very personal logic. He missed having her in bed with him, coming with his name on her lips, flushed and disheveled and vulnerable.
Yeah, sure, that internship in Paris was an opportunity she couldn't miss, but fuck, he missed sex.
Maybe that made him a pathetic male ruled by his penis, but so be it.
He was a college student and yeah, he loved his life, but that didn't mean nothing was missing.
There was a brisk knock on the door and he half-heartedly got to his feet to reply, expecting his neighbor to ask him for that mix CD Seth had sent over two weeks earlier. Said CD was making the rounds, passing from one room to the other in the whole damn building. Ryan was still working on a way to tell Seth that he wasn't much into music, but if it made other people happy...
He felt a huge smile break on his face when he saw Taylor, perky smile in place, standing in the hallway, a sports bag in hand. "I asked for a weekend off," she said. "Seth told me you've been brooding."
"Seth exaggerates." Seth always exaggerated. Just because Ryan was starting to wonder if it was possible to die of sheer frustration didn't mean he was brooding. He had left brooding behind when he had left Newport. These days, he… reflected. On his life. Yes.
He took a step back to allow her to enter, his eyes following her, taking in the way she walked in like she owned the room, her hair shiny in the sunlight filtering through the half-drawn blinds.
God, he had missed her.
"I don't think he does," she replied, looking around, then facing him, eyebrows raised.
Okay, so, his place was less neat than usual.
A lot less neat.
"You live in a dump," she pointed out.
"I don't."
"It's cute," she added. "That you missed me so much."
He tried not to glare at her.
"I was just enjoying my days as a bachelor," he replied. "No girlfriend to keep me whipped, you know."
She gave him a sweet smile. "Interesting choice of words," she said. She set the bag on the floor, opened it enough that Ryan spotted a feather lying on top, then straightened back. "Strip off, mister," she said.
He did without a word, heart starting to beat a little faster in his chest.
"I know it sucks that I had to leave for Paris for so long, so soon before graduation," she said conversationally, letting her eyes travel up and down Ryan's body appreciatively. "And may I add, it's nice to see that you didn't stop working out."
Yeah, well, during her absence, he'd had to do something to release pent-up energy. And yes, he may have gone slightly overboard, but from the way she was looking at him, she didn't mind.
She approached him and let her hand trail down his chest, all the way to his belly. He gulped audibly and her smile widened. She planted a kiss on his lips, quick and light.
"Well, I'm here now." She guided him to the bed and he lay down, trying to keep his breathing steady as she stripped down for him, slowly, teasingly.
He gasped when she straddled him and kissed him, deeply, the kiss going straight to his groin. She giggled but didn't speak, instead fetching the feather from the bag while he stared at the ceiling and remembered all the reasons why he loved her.
He moaned when she trailed the feather over his chest, teasing his nipples to hardness, softly grazing the sensitive skin with her teeth when she wasn't using the feather on them.
Ryan closed his eyes when Taylor moved down, and down, and down, his hips bucking involuntarily at the too light touch.
Then, he lost track of what was happening, lost in the sensations, looking her in the eyes as she rode him, slowly, forcing him to adapt to her slow rhythm until he was clutching the sheets and begging her incoherently.
They came together with a cry and she fell down on the bed next to him.
"Was it as good as in your memories?" she asked, sneaking an arm on his waist.
"It was perfect," he replied, his voice hoarse. She smiled but didn't tease him for it.
She rested her head on his chest and he trailed the skin of her back with lazy fingers, enjoying the warmth of her presence.
Let's stay like this forever, he wanted to say. Forget the outside world. Let's just stay here forever.
Taylor gave a small, contented smile, and her leg brushed against his.
He smiled up at the ceiling. No matter how much he wished he could keep her like this forever, he couldn't. But he could still savor this moment-and the countless others that would follow.
"I love you," Taylor whispered, almost shyly.
"I love you too."
end