FIC: Desert Hearts (Ryan/Simon, NC-17)
Author: Clio
Title: Desert Hearts
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometime during the third season Ryan started to care, and that's when everything went wrong.
Length: 1300 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Fills the "experimental: biting" square on my kissbingo card!
This is a bit darker than my usual style, but hey, I already wrote the happy ending so there you go! Many thanks to dana_kujan and honestys_easy for looking this over!
When it was good, it was amazing.
It was better for the show for Simon to continue his antics with Paula, but her reaction was to just giggle and slap his arm. She didn’t have a clever retort in her back pocket. The guest judges were amused by Ryan and Simon’s shenanigans, though on movie night Simon wondered if Quentin understood more than he was letting on. Simon had been waiting for Nigel to scold, tell them to town it down, but Nigel apparently found the flirting-no, they were calling it banter-amusing.
Their affair was a delicious little secret. Simon was glad of his somewhat lower profile in America, not to mention that Los Angeles was a damn sight larger than London; he doubted that he’d have gotten away with even half of their sneaking around in the UK. It went without saying that the sex was amazing; otherwise they wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place. But it also spilled over into all their other interactions, like a semi-permanent hum, a live wire.
Simon hated to admit it, even to himself, but Ryan had his number and never let him get away with anything. Which pissed him off, but was also strangely comforting. More importantly the fighting led to even better sex. Ryan was hot and commanding when angry, though Simon had to be careful not to push to where Ryan denied him entirely. Luckily this rarely occurred; however much Ryan postured and sputtered, with the right word or touch Ryan opened up his body even if he was still angry. And when Simon did push too hard and Ryan froze him out, broke it off, it never lasted too long.
Ryan always came back; how could he not?
But when it was bad …
In those moments Ryan felt like he was back in fifth grade and Simon was one of the cool kids, taunting him to see how he’d react. Ryan didn’t back down then and certainly didn’t now; it was the only way to keep Simon’s always-grudging respect. He didn’t rise to all of the bait, of course-some remarks he dismissed, glancing blows that barely left a scratch. But others hit home, and he struggled to keep it from showing. With anyone else he might have warned them away or at least playfully said “ouch!” But with Simon, well, vulnerability wasn’t what the relationship was about.
And anyway he was made of stronger stuff than the highlights and the manicures led people to believe. Certainly stronger than the kids, and when Ryan saw that nasty glint in Simon’s eye he diverted the blow to himself whenever he could. Simon just saw it as a ploy for attention, but then he would.
Simon liked to think, and say, that he was the one with the all power, that Ryan wanted him more and would crawl back no matter what Simon did. And that was true in a way; or at least, it was the pattern. But Ryan saw the little flashes of worry that the epic sulks were designed to disguise and they made him glad, in the worst way possible. Ryan didn’t get as much glee out of other people’s failure as Simon did, but he did have his moments, and knowing that he could hurt Simon, though not as often or as deeply, was grimly satisfying.
It kept him coming back, long after he should have walked away.
Sex was the fuel that kept the engine running even when the car had left the road. Most of the time they had quickies in dressing rooms or hotel rooms or sometimes even at Ryan’s place. When Simon was in LA for the weekend they’d spend hours under the sheets, though more time didn’t make the fucking any slower or less intense.
Simon had become fond of using his teeth, and Ryan could often tell what mood Simon was in by how much he was bitten while they were fucking. Little nips on his neck, maybe a hickey sucked on the side of his hip, was just affectionate teasing. But today those teeth were grazing Ryan’s balls, making him shiver. Ryan already had bite marks scattered across his stomach, mouth-shaped half moons getting redder by the moment. It was less the pain that kept him gasping, and more the anticipation that at any moment Simon might cross the line, made worse because Ryan wasn’t even sure where that line was anymore.
Simon’s mouth had moved on to Ryan’s cock, teeth still in evidence, scraping lightly along the shaft. Two lubed fingers were shoved up his ass, thrusting against his prostate and, knowing Simon, preparing him, but no way was Ryan going to let Simon fuck him. The blow job was enough of a trust exercise, thanks. But Simon knew what he was doing and Ryan came pretty quickly, spurting down Simon’s throat.
Simon sat back, looking satisfied as usual, and no doubt assuming that Ryan was too blissed out to put up much of a fight. But as soon as Ryan had caught his breath-and Simon had swallowed, because that was gross-he pushed Simon back on the bed with a kiss, establishing control. He wrapped one hand around Simon’s cock, stroking it the way he knew Simon liked, until he felt Simon relaxing into the bed. Ryan had his teeth out, too, as well as his claws, and was just grazing softly along Simon’s neck and shoulder, his nails scratching at the base of Simon’s cock. It wasn’t long before Simon was moaning and thrusting into Ryan’s hand, because as much as he liked to be in control he also liked being taken care of.
Ryan’s mouth was moving across Simon’s chest now, hair rubbing against his cheek as he lapped at Simon’s nipples, sensitive and hard as rocks. Simon ran a hand through Ryan’s hair, tugging it a bit every once in a while as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t bear to be tender. But that suited Ryan just fine. He watched and waited, pulling Simon closer to the edge and once he was just about coming Ryan bit down hard on the skin on the inside of Simon’s elbow-hard enough to break the skin, which he hadn’t meant to do but found he didn’t mind having done. It either sent Simon over the edge or he was too far gone to notice for he came right after that, spurting mostly against his stomach though some dribbled along Ryan’s fingers. Ryan laved at the little pin prick he’d made, willing it to stop bleeding.
Ryan didn’t bother to wait for Simon to come back down from the high of his orgasm, but leapt up and went into the en suite bathroom. He washed his hands, then dampened a cloth to bring to Simon. He glanced at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were getting worse, but they faded quite a bit in the off-season, like the bite marks and the way Simon expanded to take up all the empty space in his day, his life.
“Planning on coming back to bed?” Simon called out.
“Just a sec,” Ryan said.
He turned the tap on again, cold this time, and cupped his hand under the stream. Then, quickly, he rinsed the coppery taste of blood from his mouth.
crossposted from Dreamwidth |
comments | comment at Dreamwidth
Title: Desert Hearts
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometime during the third season Ryan started to care, and that's when everything went wrong.
Length: 1300 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Fills the "experimental: biting" square on my kissbingo card!
This is a bit darker than my usual style, but hey, I already wrote the happy ending so there you go! Many thanks to dana_kujan and honestys_easy for looking this over!
When it was good, it was amazing.
It was better for the show for Simon to continue his antics with Paula, but her reaction was to just giggle and slap his arm. She didn’t have a clever retort in her back pocket. The guest judges were amused by Ryan and Simon’s shenanigans, though on movie night Simon wondered if Quentin understood more than he was letting on. Simon had been waiting for Nigel to scold, tell them to town it down, but Nigel apparently found the flirting-no, they were calling it banter-amusing.
Their affair was a delicious little secret. Simon was glad of his somewhat lower profile in America, not to mention that Los Angeles was a damn sight larger than London; he doubted that he’d have gotten away with even half of their sneaking around in the UK. It went without saying that the sex was amazing; otherwise they wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place. But it also spilled over into all their other interactions, like a semi-permanent hum, a live wire.
Simon hated to admit it, even to himself, but Ryan had his number and never let him get away with anything. Which pissed him off, but was also strangely comforting. More importantly the fighting led to even better sex. Ryan was hot and commanding when angry, though Simon had to be careful not to push to where Ryan denied him entirely. Luckily this rarely occurred; however much Ryan postured and sputtered, with the right word or touch Ryan opened up his body even if he was still angry. And when Simon did push too hard and Ryan froze him out, broke it off, it never lasted too long.
Ryan always came back; how could he not?
But when it was bad …
In those moments Ryan felt like he was back in fifth grade and Simon was one of the cool kids, taunting him to see how he’d react. Ryan didn’t back down then and certainly didn’t now; it was the only way to keep Simon’s always-grudging respect. He didn’t rise to all of the bait, of course-some remarks he dismissed, glancing blows that barely left a scratch. But others hit home, and he struggled to keep it from showing. With anyone else he might have warned them away or at least playfully said “ouch!” But with Simon, well, vulnerability wasn’t what the relationship was about.
And anyway he was made of stronger stuff than the highlights and the manicures led people to believe. Certainly stronger than the kids, and when Ryan saw that nasty glint in Simon’s eye he diverted the blow to himself whenever he could. Simon just saw it as a ploy for attention, but then he would.
Simon liked to think, and say, that he was the one with the all power, that Ryan wanted him more and would crawl back no matter what Simon did. And that was true in a way; or at least, it was the pattern. But Ryan saw the little flashes of worry that the epic sulks were designed to disguise and they made him glad, in the worst way possible. Ryan didn’t get as much glee out of other people’s failure as Simon did, but he did have his moments, and knowing that he could hurt Simon, though not as often or as deeply, was grimly satisfying.
It kept him coming back, long after he should have walked away.
Sex was the fuel that kept the engine running even when the car had left the road. Most of the time they had quickies in dressing rooms or hotel rooms or sometimes even at Ryan’s place. When Simon was in LA for the weekend they’d spend hours under the sheets, though more time didn’t make the fucking any slower or less intense.
Simon had become fond of using his teeth, and Ryan could often tell what mood Simon was in by how much he was bitten while they were fucking. Little nips on his neck, maybe a hickey sucked on the side of his hip, was just affectionate teasing. But today those teeth were grazing Ryan’s balls, making him shiver. Ryan already had bite marks scattered across his stomach, mouth-shaped half moons getting redder by the moment. It was less the pain that kept him gasping, and more the anticipation that at any moment Simon might cross the line, made worse because Ryan wasn’t even sure where that line was anymore.
Simon’s mouth had moved on to Ryan’s cock, teeth still in evidence, scraping lightly along the shaft. Two lubed fingers were shoved up his ass, thrusting against his prostate and, knowing Simon, preparing him, but no way was Ryan going to let Simon fuck him. The blow job was enough of a trust exercise, thanks. But Simon knew what he was doing and Ryan came pretty quickly, spurting down Simon’s throat.
Simon sat back, looking satisfied as usual, and no doubt assuming that Ryan was too blissed out to put up much of a fight. But as soon as Ryan had caught his breath-and Simon had swallowed, because that was gross-he pushed Simon back on the bed with a kiss, establishing control. He wrapped one hand around Simon’s cock, stroking it the way he knew Simon liked, until he felt Simon relaxing into the bed. Ryan had his teeth out, too, as well as his claws, and was just grazing softly along Simon’s neck and shoulder, his nails scratching at the base of Simon’s cock. It wasn’t long before Simon was moaning and thrusting into Ryan’s hand, because as much as he liked to be in control he also liked being taken care of.
Ryan’s mouth was moving across Simon’s chest now, hair rubbing against his cheek as he lapped at Simon’s nipples, sensitive and hard as rocks. Simon ran a hand through Ryan’s hair, tugging it a bit every once in a while as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t bear to be tender. But that suited Ryan just fine. He watched and waited, pulling Simon closer to the edge and once he was just about coming Ryan bit down hard on the skin on the inside of Simon’s elbow-hard enough to break the skin, which he hadn’t meant to do but found he didn’t mind having done. It either sent Simon over the edge or he was too far gone to notice for he came right after that, spurting mostly against his stomach though some dribbled along Ryan’s fingers. Ryan laved at the little pin prick he’d made, willing it to stop bleeding.
Ryan didn’t bother to wait for Simon to come back down from the high of his orgasm, but leapt up and went into the en suite bathroom. He washed his hands, then dampened a cloth to bring to Simon. He glanced at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were getting worse, but they faded quite a bit in the off-season, like the bite marks and the way Simon expanded to take up all the empty space in his day, his life.
“Planning on coming back to bed?” Simon called out.
“Just a sec,” Ryan said.
He turned the tap on again, cold this time, and cupped his hand under the stream. Then, quickly, he rinsed the coppery taste of blood from his mouth.
crossposted from Dreamwidth |
comments | comment at Dreamwidth