panic fic, "come down hard"
ryan/spencer, fiction. sort of a sex pollen story. just like certain kinds of tic-tics, this is not for children. ♥ beta most excellently and speedily by the lovely aeslis, written for disarm_d. the title is a reference to they live (but it was almost a reference to eisley's "invasion"). 1,780 words. edit: also posted on ao3 here.
Come Down Hard
by elfiepike
He thinks later that it must have been that one girl's perfume that caused it, because that's the only thing that stands out in his mind as unusual. The evening had otherwise started normally enough: he met Spencer for pizza before heading out to a party one of Ryan's friends had invited them to, with the promise of booze and conversation and a healthy amount of pretentious mockery. And maybe some candles, Ryan always liked having candles around.
Nearly everyone there was a familiar face, and the first few hours were spent reminiscing and bullshitting and talking about capital-A Art versus commerce (and Ryan was fucking glad he'd already had a glass of wine by then; just because he knew a person didn't mean he wanted to hear their opinion of his career).
He walked into the garden to get some air. There were people out there already, but no one he really wanted to talk to. He turned around to go straight back inside when the girl--young woman, whatever--bumped into him, jostling his arm and nearly pushing him over.
"Sorry, sorry!" she'd said, laughing, and he'd said it was okay, whatever, but he was already feeling over this gathering and ready to find Spencer and head out--or if Spencer was having too much fun, he would call a cab.
The girl had touched his neck, lightly, just below his hairline. Her hand had felt hot and slightly damp. Not clammy, but slick. He'd rubbed his neck afterwards and his hand smelled like herbs and flowers, like a garden doused in wine.
Spencer had been ready to leave. He had driven them, so he was driving them home. They were quiet on the way back, and Ryan felt tired in his bones, irritable and hot.
"Turn on the AC, Spence," Ryan said, tugging at his scarf loose.
"Sure." Ryan watched Spencer's fingers as they messed with the control settings. Ryan had long hands, he thought they were okay, but Spencer's were almost pretty, pink-tipped and deft on the dials.
The blast of cold air from the vent wasn't enough. Ryan started unbuttoning his vest, and then the top of his shirt. He shifted in the passenger seat, spreading his knees, sinking into the expensive cushioning. He opened a window.
He still felt hot, hot, and. Hot and like something was jittering under the surface of his skin, like.
"Ryan, we're here," Spencer said.
"Oh, right." Ryan concentrated on opening the car door. He still had his seat belt on.
"Dude, I thought you didn't get wasted there, what the fuck," Spencer said, laughing, leaning over and helping Ryan with the buckle.
Spencer's hair fell in front of Ryan's face; it was long enough to do that now. Spencer smelled really good, like the cucumber shampoo he used and a little like cigarrettes from the party, and something just person-ish, and. "You should come inside," Ryan said.
Spencer sat back in the driver's seat and watched Ryan untangle himself. "Yeah?"
Ryan blinked. His eyes felt heavy, he felt so hot, he wanted--he wanted nothing more than for Spencer to come inside the house with him, for Spencer to lean close and let Ryan smell him again. Standing up next to the car was a chore. He felt so fucking warm. "Yeah, you should. C'mon."
Ryan doesn't remember walking up the front steps and opening the door, like it's all one flash of his feet moving forward and this unbearable waiting feeling pressing down on him. Spencer was right behind him when he stepped inside.
"Ryan," Spencer said, and Ryan didn't know what that low tone in his voice meant, all he could think about was how close they were standing, how he felt so hot that Spencer must be able to feel it, how this crawling sensation under his skin just kept pushing and pushing and when the fuck did Spencer get so tall?
Ryan turned around, started to say that to Spencer's face, looking up at it, and from this close he could stare and stare but his hands kept doing things without him thinking about it, sliding up Spencer's arms like they had some sort of plan that they weren't telling him about but really he suspected it had more to do with this ridiculous heat that was pulsing in him, along his limbs and through his guts and fuck, fuck. "Fuck," Ryan said instead, and pulled Spencer down just that little bit to lick into his mouth, not even a kiss, really.
Spencer pulled back too soon, just as Ryan was beginning to get a taste of him, and said, "Ryan, what the fuck," calmly as ever except that Ryan could feel Spencer's heartbeat under his hands.
"Nothing," Ryan said, "nothing except just--just let me--"
Spencer's hands were on Ryan's shoulders then, holding him but not pushing him away, and they were hot, Ryan felt himself sweating underneath them. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," Spencer said, his brow puckered like he was seriously thinking about this, seriously, Ryan didn't know how he could stand there and not feel what he was feeling, not know--
That's when Ryan realized that something had happened to him. "I didn't take anything," he said. "I swear, I just, I feel so hot." He tried to step back but somehow ended up inching closer to Spencer, ducking his head against the hollow of Spencer's throat, suddenly filled with urge to just bite into Spencer, just touch him everywhere with his teeth and tongue and god he was so hard already, so hard.
"Jesus, Ryan, what--" Spencer said, and then his hands, his hands on Ryan's shoulders, he pushed Ryan away and leaned down and kissed him, not wasting time, licking into Ryan's mouth and kissing him and kissing him and Ryan felt so fucking dizzy with it.
Ryan said, "God, Spence, can I, can I--" and he started sinking to his knees before Spencer even said anything, but of course Spencer said okay, and so Ryan undid Spencer's belt and the button on his jeans and then the zipper and then he thought he might come just from smelling Spencer this close up. He pressed his face against Spencer's crotch, through his briefs, just smelling, panting, and Spencer finally said, "Ryan, come on."
Ryan pushed Spencer's pants out of the way and his briefs out of the way and thought that neither of them should wear clothes ever again, but then Spencer's dick was there, and he could just--he could just eat it up, so he did, sucking on the head and then taking in as much as he could. He didn't want to gag, he was aware on some level that he didn't have control of himself, and was suddenly afraid that he might really go too far. He might try to do something that would really actually hurt, just because of this fucking heat in him, this heat and the distracting and impossible smell that Spencer had.
So instead he just took Spencer's dick in his mouth, sucking and sucking, fisting the base and trying to match the rhythm that pounded in his ears, faster, faster, fuck.
Spencer moaned, and Ryan had to see his face, he had to, so he pulled off but kept his hand moving, looking up in the dim light of the entryway. He leaned back on his heels and said, "Spence, come on, come on," stroking and pulling and Spencer's hand wrapped around Ryan's, holding him tighter. The first damp splatter on Ryan's face startled him, he was staring so hard at Spencer's wet open mouth, open and then closed, saying, "Ryan, Ryan, fuck."
Ryan let go of Spencer's dick reluctantly. He was so hard that he didn't even know what to do, like maybe touching himself would only make everything worse, like maybe even Spencer just reaching down and touching his hair, or--he didn't even. Just.
He wiped Spencer's come off of his face with the palm of his hand and absentmindedly wiped his hand clean on his pants.
Spencer chuckled, low and raw. "Ryan," he said.
In the bedroom, Spencer left his clothes by the door and helped Ryan out of with his shirt and said, almost as if it were purely curiosity on his part, "What do you want?"
Ryan shivered under Spencer's hands and dropped his shirt on the floor.
"Come on, Ryan," Spencer said, "tell me what you want."
All Ryan could think about was Spencer's voice in his ear, Spencer's hands trailing down his chest, Spencer Spencer Spencer.
"Ryan," Spencer said, "come on."
"Don't stop talking," Ryan said. "Touch me."
Spencer loomed over him, naked and pretty much perfect. He said, "What do you want me to talk about, Ryan? Maybe, how hot you are on your knees? How you look so good when you're sucking my cock, how--"
Oh fuck. "Yes, okay, please, let me," Ryan said, and tried to push them both onto the bed. He still didn't know what he wanted to do, he just wanted to touch Spencer, to fuck him, to be fucked, until this heat was out of him or until he died, Spencer's skin against his own, whichever came first.
Spencer stopped them from falling. Spencer said, "You don't know what you want to do, do you." It was a relief or something like it that Spencer knew that without Ryan needing to say anything at all.
Spencer said, "Take off your pants and get on the bed."
Ryan woke up in the morning and felt hot, stifled, and for one terrifying moment he was sure he was still drugged, or whatever the fuck had happened last night. Then Spencer yawned against his neck, curled up closely on Ryan's back, one arm over Ryan's chest. Spencer was a furnace at night or something, seriously. Ryan struggled free, pushing the blankets down and scooting a few inches away from him.
Jesus. He wasn't even ready to think about pretending last night hadn't happened; he was still caught in the a battle between what the fuck and holy shit, Spencer Smith.
Spencer said, his eyes still closed and mostly spoken into the pillow, "Unless you're thinking about blowing me at your front door again, you should really stop it."
Ryan opened his mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. Spencer's hair was always an entertaining wreck in the morning, though. He reached over and smoothed it down a little bit.
Spencer opened his eyes and glared at him when he took his hand away, like a cat that was perfectly willing to fuck you up if you didn't keep petting him, so Ryan brought his hand back and kept going, despite the awkward angle.
Spencer started snoring after a few minutes.
Obviously extended sexual escapades with your best friend didn't qualify as a before-coffee kind of conversation for Spencer.
Spencer fucking Smith, Ryan thought, feeling almost friendly towards the future, what the fuck.
Come Down Hard
by elfiepike
He thinks later that it must have been that one girl's perfume that caused it, because that's the only thing that stands out in his mind as unusual. The evening had otherwise started normally enough: he met Spencer for pizza before heading out to a party one of Ryan's friends had invited them to, with the promise of booze and conversation and a healthy amount of pretentious mockery. And maybe some candles, Ryan always liked having candles around.
Nearly everyone there was a familiar face, and the first few hours were spent reminiscing and bullshitting and talking about capital-A Art versus commerce (and Ryan was fucking glad he'd already had a glass of wine by then; just because he knew a person didn't mean he wanted to hear their opinion of his career).
He walked into the garden to get some air. There were people out there already, but no one he really wanted to talk to. He turned around to go straight back inside when the girl--young woman, whatever--bumped into him, jostling his arm and nearly pushing him over.
"Sorry, sorry!" she'd said, laughing, and he'd said it was okay, whatever, but he was already feeling over this gathering and ready to find Spencer and head out--or if Spencer was having too much fun, he would call a cab.
The girl had touched his neck, lightly, just below his hairline. Her hand had felt hot and slightly damp. Not clammy, but slick. He'd rubbed his neck afterwards and his hand smelled like herbs and flowers, like a garden doused in wine.
Spencer had been ready to leave. He had driven them, so he was driving them home. They were quiet on the way back, and Ryan felt tired in his bones, irritable and hot.
"Turn on the AC, Spence," Ryan said, tugging at his scarf loose.
"Sure." Ryan watched Spencer's fingers as they messed with the control settings. Ryan had long hands, he thought they were okay, but Spencer's were almost pretty, pink-tipped and deft on the dials.
The blast of cold air from the vent wasn't enough. Ryan started unbuttoning his vest, and then the top of his shirt. He shifted in the passenger seat, spreading his knees, sinking into the expensive cushioning. He opened a window.
He still felt hot, hot, and. Hot and like something was jittering under the surface of his skin, like.
"Ryan, we're here," Spencer said.
"Oh, right." Ryan concentrated on opening the car door. He still had his seat belt on.
"Dude, I thought you didn't get wasted there, what the fuck," Spencer said, laughing, leaning over and helping Ryan with the buckle.
Spencer's hair fell in front of Ryan's face; it was long enough to do that now. Spencer smelled really good, like the cucumber shampoo he used and a little like cigarrettes from the party, and something just person-ish, and. "You should come inside," Ryan said.
Spencer sat back in the driver's seat and watched Ryan untangle himself. "Yeah?"
Ryan blinked. His eyes felt heavy, he felt so hot, he wanted--he wanted nothing more than for Spencer to come inside the house with him, for Spencer to lean close and let Ryan smell him again. Standing up next to the car was a chore. He felt so fucking warm. "Yeah, you should. C'mon."
Ryan doesn't remember walking up the front steps and opening the door, like it's all one flash of his feet moving forward and this unbearable waiting feeling pressing down on him. Spencer was right behind him when he stepped inside.
"Ryan," Spencer said, and Ryan didn't know what that low tone in his voice meant, all he could think about was how close they were standing, how he felt so hot that Spencer must be able to feel it, how this crawling sensation under his skin just kept pushing and pushing and when the fuck did Spencer get so tall?
Ryan turned around, started to say that to Spencer's face, looking up at it, and from this close he could stare and stare but his hands kept doing things without him thinking about it, sliding up Spencer's arms like they had some sort of plan that they weren't telling him about but really he suspected it had more to do with this ridiculous heat that was pulsing in him, along his limbs and through his guts and fuck, fuck. "Fuck," Ryan said instead, and pulled Spencer down just that little bit to lick into his mouth, not even a kiss, really.
Spencer pulled back too soon, just as Ryan was beginning to get a taste of him, and said, "Ryan, what the fuck," calmly as ever except that Ryan could feel Spencer's heartbeat under his hands.
"Nothing," Ryan said, "nothing except just--just let me--"
Spencer's hands were on Ryan's shoulders then, holding him but not pushing him away, and they were hot, Ryan felt himself sweating underneath them. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," Spencer said, his brow puckered like he was seriously thinking about this, seriously, Ryan didn't know how he could stand there and not feel what he was feeling, not know--
That's when Ryan realized that something had happened to him. "I didn't take anything," he said. "I swear, I just, I feel so hot." He tried to step back but somehow ended up inching closer to Spencer, ducking his head against the hollow of Spencer's throat, suddenly filled with urge to just bite into Spencer, just touch him everywhere with his teeth and tongue and god he was so hard already, so hard.
"Jesus, Ryan, what--" Spencer said, and then his hands, his hands on Ryan's shoulders, he pushed Ryan away and leaned down and kissed him, not wasting time, licking into Ryan's mouth and kissing him and kissing him and Ryan felt so fucking dizzy with it.
Ryan said, "God, Spence, can I, can I--" and he started sinking to his knees before Spencer even said anything, but of course Spencer said okay, and so Ryan undid Spencer's belt and the button on his jeans and then the zipper and then he thought he might come just from smelling Spencer this close up. He pressed his face against Spencer's crotch, through his briefs, just smelling, panting, and Spencer finally said, "Ryan, come on."
Ryan pushed Spencer's pants out of the way and his briefs out of the way and thought that neither of them should wear clothes ever again, but then Spencer's dick was there, and he could just--he could just eat it up, so he did, sucking on the head and then taking in as much as he could. He didn't want to gag, he was aware on some level that he didn't have control of himself, and was suddenly afraid that he might really go too far. He might try to do something that would really actually hurt, just because of this fucking heat in him, this heat and the distracting and impossible smell that Spencer had.
So instead he just took Spencer's dick in his mouth, sucking and sucking, fisting the base and trying to match the rhythm that pounded in his ears, faster, faster, fuck.
Spencer moaned, and Ryan had to see his face, he had to, so he pulled off but kept his hand moving, looking up in the dim light of the entryway. He leaned back on his heels and said, "Spence, come on, come on," stroking and pulling and Spencer's hand wrapped around Ryan's, holding him tighter. The first damp splatter on Ryan's face startled him, he was staring so hard at Spencer's wet open mouth, open and then closed, saying, "Ryan, Ryan, fuck."
Ryan let go of Spencer's dick reluctantly. He was so hard that he didn't even know what to do, like maybe touching himself would only make everything worse, like maybe even Spencer just reaching down and touching his hair, or--he didn't even. Just.
He wiped Spencer's come off of his face with the palm of his hand and absentmindedly wiped his hand clean on his pants.
Spencer chuckled, low and raw. "Ryan," he said.
In the bedroom, Spencer left his clothes by the door and helped Ryan out of with his shirt and said, almost as if it were purely curiosity on his part, "What do you want?"
Ryan shivered under Spencer's hands and dropped his shirt on the floor.
"Come on, Ryan," Spencer said, "tell me what you want."
All Ryan could think about was Spencer's voice in his ear, Spencer's hands trailing down his chest, Spencer Spencer Spencer.
"Ryan," Spencer said, "come on."
"Don't stop talking," Ryan said. "Touch me."
Spencer loomed over him, naked and pretty much perfect. He said, "What do you want me to talk about, Ryan? Maybe, how hot you are on your knees? How you look so good when you're sucking my cock, how--"
Oh fuck. "Yes, okay, please, let me," Ryan said, and tried to push them both onto the bed. He still didn't know what he wanted to do, he just wanted to touch Spencer, to fuck him, to be fucked, until this heat was out of him or until he died, Spencer's skin against his own, whichever came first.
Spencer stopped them from falling. Spencer said, "You don't know what you want to do, do you." It was a relief or something like it that Spencer knew that without Ryan needing to say anything at all.
Spencer said, "Take off your pants and get on the bed."
Ryan woke up in the morning and felt hot, stifled, and for one terrifying moment he was sure he was still drugged, or whatever the fuck had happened last night. Then Spencer yawned against his neck, curled up closely on Ryan's back, one arm over Ryan's chest. Spencer was a furnace at night or something, seriously. Ryan struggled free, pushing the blankets down and scooting a few inches away from him.
Jesus. He wasn't even ready to think about pretending last night hadn't happened; he was still caught in the a battle between what the fuck and holy shit, Spencer Smith.
Spencer said, his eyes still closed and mostly spoken into the pillow, "Unless you're thinking about blowing me at your front door again, you should really stop it."
Ryan opened his mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. Spencer's hair was always an entertaining wreck in the morning, though. He reached over and smoothed it down a little bit.
Spencer opened his eyes and glared at him when he took his hand away, like a cat that was perfectly willing to fuck you up if you didn't keep petting him, so Ryan brought his hand back and kept going, despite the awkward angle.
Spencer started snoring after a few minutes.
Obviously extended sexual escapades with your best friend didn't qualify as a before-coffee kind of conversation for Spencer.
Spencer fucking Smith, Ryan thought, feeling almost friendly towards the future, what the fuck.