This is how we do bondage in the O.C., bitch!
Okay, this story was supposed to be done...a while ago. And I had this whole set of notes to go with it that on further reflection, particularly reflection on the fact that it's late, I just got home, and I'm tired, are not important.
What is important is that this story is hackthis' birthday present. Z, I know you've already seen a good portion of this story, but I hope it tickles you anyway. Happy Birthday a few days early, sweetie. You are one of the coolest people I've met while tooling around various fandoms and I hope you have a fabulous birthday, because you deserve it.
Okay, so there are a few notes at the end, for now I'll just let you get to the story.
"H" Is for "Houdini," and also "Handcuffs"
Seth had once told Ryan that insecurity and paralyzing self-doubt went along with being a Cohen. He hadn't mentioned that the ability to humiliate oneself in new and exciting ways was part of that, too. On Seth's well-calibrated embarrassment meter, Summer calling him "Sid" rated about a two, and dropping his lunch tray in front of the entire dining hall not once but twice during his first week of classes rated an eight. Maybe an eight and a half.
But cuffing himself to his bed in his dorm room at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday might require a new number. One with superscript and letters, even, if he didn't figure out how to get out of this before Ryan got back.
Seth pulled on the cuff and checked the circle around his wrist. Yes, definitely locked. He checked the hinge. Yep. Intact, showed no signs of rust or corrosion. He checked the other cuff. The one that was attached to the horizontal bar of the headboard. In fine, working, not-about-to-spontaneously-unlock condition. He checked the joins where the metal bar met the bedposts. Yes, fine welding job there. Just fine. What perfect timing for good old-fashioned American craftsmanship to come back into vogue. Fan*ta*stic.
The situation was getting desperate. Ryan would be done with his shower soon. Very soon, and Seth *really* didn't want to be caught handcuffed to his bed in his pajamas. Not that it didn't bring up some interesting possibilities that he'd be all for exploring--some other time. But today he had a french quiz in half an hour, and besides, there had to be a better way to express his desire to explore other, kinkier aspects of their relationship.
Okay, maybe not.
He tugged again on the cuff, hoping for a miracle. Maybe his desperation would result in the spontaneous activation of his mutant X-factor gene and he'd develop enough super strength to break the cuff (preferably without any embarrassing side effects like blue fur, but he wasn't all that picky at the moment), or the ability to stretch like rubber and slide his wrist through. He'd even settle for a sudden burst of adrenaline. That happened, right? People in life-threatening situations suddenly being able to lift cars off of trapped babies or whatnot. He looked around, hoping there was a radioactive spider to bite him. Nope. Bug-free room for once. Figured.
Well, he wasn't ready to cut his arm off with a pocket knife or anything, but--wait. Ryan had a pocket knife on his bedside table, which was way closer than the dresser. If he could get to that, maybe he could use it to pick the lock. Not that picking the lock had worked when he tried it just now with a bobby pin and a paper clip. But it was a Swiss Army knife, it had to have some nifty Go-Go-Gadget tool on it.
He looked over at Ryan's nightstand, which was on the other side of Ryan's bed, and thus about halfway across the room. Stretching as far as he could, he pulled the handcuffed wrist all the way to the very edge of the bar and leaned over Ryan's bed. He could get far enough to put a knee on the very edge, and *almost* touched the edge of the nightstand with his free hand. He pulled a little farther, stretching his right arm until it felt like it might pop out of the socket. Just as his fingers touched the knife his bed came unstuck from the decades worth of grime that had apparently glued it to the floor and it heaved toward him, thrusting him forward with a jerk. Seth lunged forward uncontrollably, his hand smacked the knife, and the knife, a small bowl of change, and Ryan's alarm clock went flying off the nightstand, across the floor, and right into the door, which was opening right that second to let Ryan inside.
Instincts honed from years of avoiding being shoved into lockers kicked in and Seth jumped back onto his own bed at lightspeed, pulling his knees up to his chest. He grabbed his pillow and draped it over his handcuffed wrist in a vain attempt to hide it.
By the time he looked up from his hasty camouflage job, Ryan had closed the door and was standing there, in his black boxer briefs, towel wrapped around his neck, and carrying his shower stuff. He was looking from the mess on the floor to Seth and back again, one eyebrow raised.
"Hey! Uh-Ryan. Good Shower? Water, uh, warm for once? It's early, so it should have been. You remembered to wear shower shoes, right? Oh, I see you did, that's good because you-"
"What did you do, and why did you do it?"
Seth opened his mouth to reply and-squeaked. He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Okay, so, this isn’t really what you think. I was-I was-"
"“You mean it's *not* you handcuffed half-naked to the bed?"
"Oh, well, no, nono, it's definitely that. It's just, I was, I was trying to…"
Seth's voice trailed off as Ryan put down his shower supplies, picked up the towel, and started to dry off his hair. His bare chest was still dotted with a few beads of water, which as Seth watched, dripped slowly toward the waist of his underwear. Seth's mouth went dry as he realized those were a pair of *his* boxer briefs, and who would have ever thought the sight of another guy wearing his underwear would be hot? But it was, and now he needed the pillow on his lap.
Why Seth was so concerned with Ryan seeing him handcuffed to the bed he wasn't sure, he just knew that if he had planned to bring up the use of sex toys, he wouldn't have done it like this.
After all, the goal had been to teach himself how to pick a lock, not try and seduce his boyfriend into kinky sex twenty minutes before a French quiz. There was a time and a place for everything, and this was not the time for-oh, there was obviously something very wrong with him.
He followed the line of Ryan's body up from his crotch--which he’d apparently been fixated on--to his face, which had emerged from under the towel and now sported a mop of very messy, slightly damp hair.
"You were trying to...?" Ryan prompted.
"Uh, well, I thought I could-try and-okay, you read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, right?"
It only took a moment for Ryan to make the connection. "You were trying to be an *escape artist*?" Both of Ryan's eyebrows were doing an excellent job of climbing into his hair, now, and Seth was sure he’d picked that up from Seth's dad.
"Well, yeah, I mean, it could come in handy the next time one of us gets arrested--" Oh. Shit.
Ryan's eyebrows dropped like they’d rappelled off a cliff and his whole face took on that familiar "If you were anybody but Seth I'd beat your ass right now" look. For a long time Seth had thought that was because Ryan knew he'd be pathetically unable to defend himself. He realized about the time of their first marathon make-out session that that had nothing to do with it, but that didn’t mean it was any less scary. Danger, Will Robinson!.
“Look, I just thought it'd be cool, you know? Like, a fun party trick. Except it's surprisingly not as easy as it looks on TV.” He went to run his hands through his hair and was brought up short when his left hand stopped about six inches from his head.
Ryan snorted. “So why didn't you try it without handcuffing yourself first?”
“I thought it would give me more incentive to learn quickly?” Seth really wanted to get up and move, twist his hands, tug his hair, and he couldn't. All he could do was squirm, which didn't do a whole lot to help his *other* problem. Ryan standing there, still half-naked and slightly damp, really wasn't helping either. Neither was the fact that what he wanted most of all was to lick a line from Ryan’s collarbone to the waist of *his* underwear.
Ryan, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to stand there, as far out of reach as the keys and possibly even more desirable. His lips were starting to twitch suspiciously. “So why don't you just unlock them now?”
“Um, because thekeysareoveronthedresser.”
“What? I didn't catch that."
“I said the keys are on the dresser.” This sucked.
Ryan turned to glance at said dresser, where said keys lay, taunting Seth in all their oh-so-distant glory.
“So, you decided to throw the stuff on my nightstand at me?"
Seth was resigned to the torture now. "I was trying to get to your pocketknife.”
“So what were you trying to use before?” Ryan was leaning up against Seth's dresser now, jingling the keys in one hand. The other hand concealed what looked an awful lot like a full-out grin. The morning sunlight streamed in through the window behind him, outlining his head and bare shoulders in fire. Seth's mouth went dry again, and he found himself completely unable to think of a witty reply.
“I thought I could pick it with these.” He held up the bobby pin and paper clip.
“Seth, do you have any idea *how* to pick a lock?”
There were so many ways to respond to that, and the vast majority of them were liable to result in him being left to rot handcuffed to the bed. Best to tread lightly here.
“Well, Jennifer Garner does it in like three seconds flat on ‘Alias’.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Even *you* cannot think that you can learn how to pick a
lock from a TV show.”
“Dude, do you know how many times I've watched those DVDs?”
"Don't try and convince me you kept rewatching those club scenes because you were studying her B and E technique.”
“Okay, fair enough, you have a point, but I must have picked up *something*, right? You know how that show goes for accuracy.”
“I think your confinement has made you delusional.”
No, just very, very horny. “Yeah, you're probably right, so could you please just toss me the keys so I can get out of here and go buy a book on lock picking?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow and dangled the keys in front of him. “You mean *these* keys?
No, the keys down your pants, asshole. Well, those too, actually, but the shiny metal ones first.
“Yes. Please? Come on, I'm begging here.”
Ryan's mild smirk deepened at that and his gaze ran down Seth’s body-which wasn't far, actually, since he was still scrunched up against the headboard, pillow in his lap--and back up to Seth's face. He licked his lips and when he spoke his voice was deep and slightly hoarse in that way that always made Seth's dick jump.
“Oh? Are you?”
Oh no. Oh no? Oh yes.
Oh shit.
Ryan didn't wait for an answer. He put the keys back on the dresser and walked toward Seth, holding his gaze. Seth would have scooted away, but remembered in time that he wasn't going anywhere. It was too late to worry about it, though, because Ryan was right there, leaning over him, smelling like soap and that cheap shampoo he liked to use. Seth closed his eyes. It was too much. He was going to pass out. Ryan could have his wicked way with him right there on the bed while he was unconscious which, come to think of it, didn’t sound like any fun at all.
He opened his eyes to see Ryan's face inches from his, hands on the headboard on either side of him.
“I said, are you?” Ryan asked again, his eyes on Seth's mouth.
If Seth were a cartoon character his gulp would have been audible across the room and his Adam's apple would have bobbed up and down like a yo-yo.
“Um. No? I mean yes. Yes I am, Ryan, please get me out of here, please?” he would have put his hands together, but that would mean letting go of the pillow and right now that seemed like his only anchor to sanity.
“I've heard you beg better than that for an extension on curfew.” Ryan's warm breath on his ear had a direct effect on his heartrate, not to mention his dick. He wanted Ryan to touch him, he wanted him to kiss him and bite him and stroke him off, now, right now, but Ryan was waiting for something here and Seth wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do. He'd always thought he was good at begging, it's not like he hadn't done it enough-parents for stuff, Summer for a date, professors for extensions. But apparently begging one's extremely hot, mostly naked boyfriend to un-cuff one from the bed and then ravish you was different from begging for an extra day to finish your French Lit midterm. Who knew?
Luckily Ryan took pity on him and solved the problem with a slow, suggestive bite to his lower lip. Seth whimpered and his mouth fell open. He moved his uncuffed hand to grasp Ryan's waist and was startled when he felt Ryan pull away and take his hand.
“No touching. I want you to hold the headboard and don't let go,” Ryan said, matching actions to words.
Oh fuck.
The next moment Ryan's tongue flicked out again to lick lightly at his lips. Seth opened his mouth in invitation, but Ryan just ran his tongue inside once and then pulled back with another nip.
Seth couldn't manage to swallow his whimper when Ryan's kisses, still feather-light, moved to this throat and then down. Hot, wet, barely-felt and then gone, Ryan kept it up all over Seth's throat and jaw, under his ear, slow suck to his earlobe and a quick tongue inside, and now Seth was panting open-mouthed and holding onto the headboard for dear life. If he were Clark Kent there would have been finger-sized dents in the metal by now. Of course, if he were Clark Kent, he would have broken out of the cuffs long before Ryan ever got back, and then he wouldn't be getting ravished right now, and really, handcuffing himself to the bed might be the smartest stupid thing he'd ever done.
A sharp bite to his collarbone jerked him out of his euphoria-induced self-congratulation.
Ryan was smirking at him, drying hair falling over his eyes and a flush high on his cheeks. “I want you to ask for it.”
Ask? Ask for what? He could think of any number of things he wanted Ryan to do, how was he supposed to choose? Okay, so there *was* one thing that stood out.
“Suck me.” God, even his own voice sounded sexy to him right now, how weird was that? Ryan didn't think it was weird, if that sleepy-eyed but still intense look was anything to go by. And Seth happened to know for a fact that it did. Ryan's smirk deepened.
“Here?” he asked as he leaned in and sucked a mark on Seth's neck.
Well, that felt great-spectacular even-but Seth had meant somewhere a little lower down.
“N-no,” he managed.
“Here?” A sharp, fast suck to the jut of his collarbone.
“Uh. No-not-“
“What about *here*?” A sharp tug as lips closed around his nipple.
“*Oh* god, I meant-“
Another one to his other nipple, and Seth couldn't even form words anymore. Ryan didn't wait, though, just continued to suck kisses all over his chest and belly, his hands sliding softly up and down Seth's sides, down to his knees, back up over his thighs, past his hips and down again. All the while he murmured little things that Seth couldn't quite catch, but the scratchy whispery sound didn't need to make sense to send tingles up and down his spine. The handcuff rattled every once in a while against the headboard, and Seth was so hard he thought he wasn't so much going to come as explode in a few moments.
Ryan's tongue delved into his bellybutton and then there were more quick sharp sucks and nips on his belly and then--
And then everything suddenly stopped, and Seth looked down in surprise and not a little bit of panic.
Ryan was staring at his underwear. “Are those *mine*?”
“Does it *matter*?” No, his voice did not just crack.
Ryan shrugged and grinned up at him from underneath his bangs. “Not really. I just think it’s kind of hot.”
Oh. Fancy that.
Then Ryan peeled off whoever's shorts they were with his teeth and Seth's mind whited-out momentarily.
He blinked back to reality with the feel of Ryan's thumb and forefinger clamped firmly around the base of his cock, keeping him from coming, and Ryan's tongue leisurely licking up and down the underside. He lifted his head just as Ryan dipped his tongue into the tiny slit at the tip and then dropped it back on the pillow to stare at the ceiling, which was much less arousing than the sight of Ryan, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, wrapped around his cock. Although really, linoleum would probably be arousing to him at this point, so it didn't help much.
Suddenly Ryan's mouth was gone. Again. Why did he keep doing that? Where had it gone? If this kept happening Seth was going to stage a protest.
Ah. It was brushing up against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Which was fine and dandy, but really couldn’t compare to Ryan's mouth on his cock.
“You know, if you can't keep your voice down, I'm going to have to do it for you.”
Keep his voice down? He'd been talking? What had he been saying? On second thought, he didn't really care, as long as it didn't involve the names of cartoon characters.
Ryan didn't wait for him to reply, though, and moved up so he was straddling Seth's chest. His cock was poking out of his underwear and was very, very near Seth's mouth. So near that when Seth went to lick his lips he licked the tip of it without meaning to. Ryan's eyelids fell to half-mast and he caressed Seth's cheek, sliding his thumb into his mouth.
“Open up.” His voice was smoky and soft and left absolutely no room for argument. Not that Seth was inclined to argue just then. He wasn't really inclined to do much of anything other than exactly what Ryan said.
He tightened his grip on the headboard and obeyed.
If he had thought about it before, Seth would have said he could write an essay, a thesis even, on the unique characteristics of Ryan's dick--its taste, its scent, the way it felt on his tongue and the way it curved just a bit--and what exactly it took to get him to thrust and make that muffled whine he always made right before he came. Now it was like discovering that a whole new chapter needed to be written.
Suddenly the taste and size of Ryan in his mouth almost overwhelmed him--he was scared and excited and he flashed back for an instant to the first time he'd let Ryan give him head. Ordinarily Seth would be touching Ryan, his hands would be on him, on his hips, his thighs, his cock, guiding and controlling the movements. Now his only connection to Ryan was through the cock in his mouth and Ryan's eyes on his and Seth's hips bucked with every gentle thrust Ryan made.
His mouth felt stretched unnaturally, his jaw straining to fit around Ryan. He could feel every inch of him moving against his tongue and the salty-sweat taste was strong and made his mouth water. A lot, actually. He swallowed involuntarily and the tip of Ryan's cock nudged the back of his throat and they both groaned.
His un-shackled hand was off the rail before he realized it, moving towards Ryan's hip, but it was caught and brought back to the headboard.
Ryan moved his hands so they covered Seth's on the bar, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tightly. His mouth was open and panting and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He groaned, and Seth realized Ryan was chanting his name under his breath and had to close his eyes.
"I said...don't...move." Ryan gritted out in a strained voice. "And don't come yet either. I want to be touching you when do."
Seth's moan of protest and frustration was muffled, but Ryan shuddered and thrust a little bit harder. Seth was almost choking, but he could breathe through is nose and it all felt so unbelievably good--in that about to break into little tiny pieces suitable for the dustbuster way--that he didn't want it to end.
Except if he didn't come soon he might *actually* break apart and that was not the ideal way to get out of the handcuffs. Hoping to help speed things along, he turned as much of his attention as possible to pushing Ryan over the edge he was so obviously teetering on.
He had almost no leverage, but he concentrated on sliding his tongue up and down against Ryan's cock and sucking as hard as he could.
And Ryan's fingers tightened on his for a moment and his eyes grew wide, and then he flung his head back and blindly reached one hand behind him to grab Seth's cock and squeeze roughly--
--and then Seth was falling and Ryan was shooting down his throat and his hand was wrapped around Seth's cock which was pulsing and ohfuckohfuckoh*god*ohfuck--
When Seth could think again Ryan was off his chest and lying curled up next to him. Seth's mouth felt strangely empty and his jaw was loose. It kept wanting to swing open, waiting for something, and then snapping closed on air. He missed Ryan's cock already, even though it was kind of nice to swallow without drooling. He massaged his jaw for a minute with his uncuffed hand and then put his arm around Ryan, who obligingly snuggled closer and let a heavy arm fall across his waist.
He had the vague feeling that there was somewhere he was supposed to be, but decided it wasn't important enough to worry about. He really wasn't worried about much of anything at the moment. Funny how blindingly good sex could make all the little everyday irritations of life disappear. Like the pesky issue of his wrist still being handcuffed to the bed and the keys still being on the dresser across the room. Although come to think of it, it would be nice to put *both* arms around Ryan. And the metal was kind of beginning to dig into his skin.
"So, you think I begged nicely enough for they keys, Ry?"
No response except a soft sigh.
"Hey, dude. I'd like to get out of this now, can you go get the keys?"
Another soft sigh. Which wasn't so much a sigh as the deep, even breathing of someone who'd fallen asleep.
"Ryan?"
Shit.
--finis-
Notes: This story probably would have been posted a lot earlier, and in a lot worse form, if it hadn't been for my wonderful beta, issaro, who took my request to tear it apart to heart. I bitched and whined--to several different people, actually, because sometimes I'm just a big baby--and didn't listen to a lot of what she said, so any mistakes are entirely my own fault for being stubborn.
Also, I was originally going to write something else for Zahra's birthday, since she already knew about this existence of this fic, but a) this took longer to write than I originally anticipated; and b) as I was writing it, I realized that this was pretty much for her anyway, considering it sprang from a rather odd conversation and my assertion that I just didn't see how one could write a believable O.C. bondage fic.
And if you've read the story and say this isn't believable either, let me just tell you that it's based on a true story. ETA: I didn't say it was *my* story, people!
I should also mention (because I forgot last night) that this story really wouldn't have gotten off the ground without Zahra, because she gave me the opening paragraphs, which I then tore into little shreds and put back together.
What is important is that this story is hackthis' birthday present. Z, I know you've already seen a good portion of this story, but I hope it tickles you anyway. Happy Birthday a few days early, sweetie. You are one of the coolest people I've met while tooling around various fandoms and I hope you have a fabulous birthday, because you deserve it.
Okay, so there are a few notes at the end, for now I'll just let you get to the story.
"H" Is for "Houdini," and also "Handcuffs"
Seth had once told Ryan that insecurity and paralyzing self-doubt went along with being a Cohen. He hadn't mentioned that the ability to humiliate oneself in new and exciting ways was part of that, too. On Seth's well-calibrated embarrassment meter, Summer calling him "Sid" rated about a two, and dropping his lunch tray in front of the entire dining hall not once but twice during his first week of classes rated an eight. Maybe an eight and a half.
But cuffing himself to his bed in his dorm room at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday might require a new number. One with superscript and letters, even, if he didn't figure out how to get out of this before Ryan got back.
Seth pulled on the cuff and checked the circle around his wrist. Yes, definitely locked. He checked the hinge. Yep. Intact, showed no signs of rust or corrosion. He checked the other cuff. The one that was attached to the horizontal bar of the headboard. In fine, working, not-about-to-spontaneously-unlock condition. He checked the joins where the metal bar met the bedposts. Yes, fine welding job there. Just fine. What perfect timing for good old-fashioned American craftsmanship to come back into vogue. Fan*ta*stic.
The situation was getting desperate. Ryan would be done with his shower soon. Very soon, and Seth *really* didn't want to be caught handcuffed to his bed in his pajamas. Not that it didn't bring up some interesting possibilities that he'd be all for exploring--some other time. But today he had a french quiz in half an hour, and besides, there had to be a better way to express his desire to explore other, kinkier aspects of their relationship.
Okay, maybe not.
He tugged again on the cuff, hoping for a miracle. Maybe his desperation would result in the spontaneous activation of his mutant X-factor gene and he'd develop enough super strength to break the cuff (preferably without any embarrassing side effects like blue fur, but he wasn't all that picky at the moment), or the ability to stretch like rubber and slide his wrist through. He'd even settle for a sudden burst of adrenaline. That happened, right? People in life-threatening situations suddenly being able to lift cars off of trapped babies or whatnot. He looked around, hoping there was a radioactive spider to bite him. Nope. Bug-free room for once. Figured.
Well, he wasn't ready to cut his arm off with a pocket knife or anything, but--wait. Ryan had a pocket knife on his bedside table, which was way closer than the dresser. If he could get to that, maybe he could use it to pick the lock. Not that picking the lock had worked when he tried it just now with a bobby pin and a paper clip. But it was a Swiss Army knife, it had to have some nifty Go-Go-Gadget tool on it.
He looked over at Ryan's nightstand, which was on the other side of Ryan's bed, and thus about halfway across the room. Stretching as far as he could, he pulled the handcuffed wrist all the way to the very edge of the bar and leaned over Ryan's bed. He could get far enough to put a knee on the very edge, and *almost* touched the edge of the nightstand with his free hand. He pulled a little farther, stretching his right arm until it felt like it might pop out of the socket. Just as his fingers touched the knife his bed came unstuck from the decades worth of grime that had apparently glued it to the floor and it heaved toward him, thrusting him forward with a jerk. Seth lunged forward uncontrollably, his hand smacked the knife, and the knife, a small bowl of change, and Ryan's alarm clock went flying off the nightstand, across the floor, and right into the door, which was opening right that second to let Ryan inside.
Instincts honed from years of avoiding being shoved into lockers kicked in and Seth jumped back onto his own bed at lightspeed, pulling his knees up to his chest. He grabbed his pillow and draped it over his handcuffed wrist in a vain attempt to hide it.
By the time he looked up from his hasty camouflage job, Ryan had closed the door and was standing there, in his black boxer briefs, towel wrapped around his neck, and carrying his shower stuff. He was looking from the mess on the floor to Seth and back again, one eyebrow raised.
"Hey! Uh-Ryan. Good Shower? Water, uh, warm for once? It's early, so it should have been. You remembered to wear shower shoes, right? Oh, I see you did, that's good because you-"
"What did you do, and why did you do it?"
Seth opened his mouth to reply and-squeaked. He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Okay, so, this isn’t really what you think. I was-I was-"
"“You mean it's *not* you handcuffed half-naked to the bed?"
"Oh, well, no, nono, it's definitely that. It's just, I was, I was trying to…"
Seth's voice trailed off as Ryan put down his shower supplies, picked up the towel, and started to dry off his hair. His bare chest was still dotted with a few beads of water, which as Seth watched, dripped slowly toward the waist of his underwear. Seth's mouth went dry as he realized those were a pair of *his* boxer briefs, and who would have ever thought the sight of another guy wearing his underwear would be hot? But it was, and now he needed the pillow on his lap.
Why Seth was so concerned with Ryan seeing him handcuffed to the bed he wasn't sure, he just knew that if he had planned to bring up the use of sex toys, he wouldn't have done it like this.
After all, the goal had been to teach himself how to pick a lock, not try and seduce his boyfriend into kinky sex twenty minutes before a French quiz. There was a time and a place for everything, and this was not the time for-oh, there was obviously something very wrong with him.
He followed the line of Ryan's body up from his crotch--which he’d apparently been fixated on--to his face, which had emerged from under the towel and now sported a mop of very messy, slightly damp hair.
"You were trying to...?" Ryan prompted.
"Uh, well, I thought I could-try and-okay, you read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, right?"
It only took a moment for Ryan to make the connection. "You were trying to be an *escape artist*?" Both of Ryan's eyebrows were doing an excellent job of climbing into his hair, now, and Seth was sure he’d picked that up from Seth's dad.
"Well, yeah, I mean, it could come in handy the next time one of us gets arrested--" Oh. Shit.
Ryan's eyebrows dropped like they’d rappelled off a cliff and his whole face took on that familiar "If you were anybody but Seth I'd beat your ass right now" look. For a long time Seth had thought that was because Ryan knew he'd be pathetically unable to defend himself. He realized about the time of their first marathon make-out session that that had nothing to do with it, but that didn’t mean it was any less scary. Danger, Will Robinson!.
“Look, I just thought it'd be cool, you know? Like, a fun party trick. Except it's surprisingly not as easy as it looks on TV.” He went to run his hands through his hair and was brought up short when his left hand stopped about six inches from his head.
Ryan snorted. “So why didn't you try it without handcuffing yourself first?”
“I thought it would give me more incentive to learn quickly?” Seth really wanted to get up and move, twist his hands, tug his hair, and he couldn't. All he could do was squirm, which didn't do a whole lot to help his *other* problem. Ryan standing there, still half-naked and slightly damp, really wasn't helping either. Neither was the fact that what he wanted most of all was to lick a line from Ryan’s collarbone to the waist of *his* underwear.
Ryan, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to stand there, as far out of reach as the keys and possibly even more desirable. His lips were starting to twitch suspiciously. “So why don't you just unlock them now?”
“Um, because thekeysareoveronthedresser.”
“What? I didn't catch that."
“I said the keys are on the dresser.” This sucked.
Ryan turned to glance at said dresser, where said keys lay, taunting Seth in all their oh-so-distant glory.
“So, you decided to throw the stuff on my nightstand at me?"
Seth was resigned to the torture now. "I was trying to get to your pocketknife.”
“So what were you trying to use before?” Ryan was leaning up against Seth's dresser now, jingling the keys in one hand. The other hand concealed what looked an awful lot like a full-out grin. The morning sunlight streamed in through the window behind him, outlining his head and bare shoulders in fire. Seth's mouth went dry again, and he found himself completely unable to think of a witty reply.
“I thought I could pick it with these.” He held up the bobby pin and paper clip.
“Seth, do you have any idea *how* to pick a lock?”
There were so many ways to respond to that, and the vast majority of them were liable to result in him being left to rot handcuffed to the bed. Best to tread lightly here.
“Well, Jennifer Garner does it in like three seconds flat on ‘Alias’.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Even *you* cannot think that you can learn how to pick a
lock from a TV show.”
“Dude, do you know how many times I've watched those DVDs?”
"Don't try and convince me you kept rewatching those club scenes because you were studying her B and E technique.”
“Okay, fair enough, you have a point, but I must have picked up *something*, right? You know how that show goes for accuracy.”
“I think your confinement has made you delusional.”
No, just very, very horny. “Yeah, you're probably right, so could you please just toss me the keys so I can get out of here and go buy a book on lock picking?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow and dangled the keys in front of him. “You mean *these* keys?
No, the keys down your pants, asshole. Well, those too, actually, but the shiny metal ones first.
“Yes. Please? Come on, I'm begging here.”
Ryan's mild smirk deepened at that and his gaze ran down Seth’s body-which wasn't far, actually, since he was still scrunched up against the headboard, pillow in his lap--and back up to Seth's face. He licked his lips and when he spoke his voice was deep and slightly hoarse in that way that always made Seth's dick jump.
“Oh? Are you?”
Oh no. Oh no? Oh yes.
Oh shit.
Ryan didn't wait for an answer. He put the keys back on the dresser and walked toward Seth, holding his gaze. Seth would have scooted away, but remembered in time that he wasn't going anywhere. It was too late to worry about it, though, because Ryan was right there, leaning over him, smelling like soap and that cheap shampoo he liked to use. Seth closed his eyes. It was too much. He was going to pass out. Ryan could have his wicked way with him right there on the bed while he was unconscious which, come to think of it, didn’t sound like any fun at all.
He opened his eyes to see Ryan's face inches from his, hands on the headboard on either side of him.
“I said, are you?” Ryan asked again, his eyes on Seth's mouth.
If Seth were a cartoon character his gulp would have been audible across the room and his Adam's apple would have bobbed up and down like a yo-yo.
“Um. No? I mean yes. Yes I am, Ryan, please get me out of here, please?” he would have put his hands together, but that would mean letting go of the pillow and right now that seemed like his only anchor to sanity.
“I've heard you beg better than that for an extension on curfew.” Ryan's warm breath on his ear had a direct effect on his heartrate, not to mention his dick. He wanted Ryan to touch him, he wanted him to kiss him and bite him and stroke him off, now, right now, but Ryan was waiting for something here and Seth wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do. He'd always thought he was good at begging, it's not like he hadn't done it enough-parents for stuff, Summer for a date, professors for extensions. But apparently begging one's extremely hot, mostly naked boyfriend to un-cuff one from the bed and then ravish you was different from begging for an extra day to finish your French Lit midterm. Who knew?
Luckily Ryan took pity on him and solved the problem with a slow, suggestive bite to his lower lip. Seth whimpered and his mouth fell open. He moved his uncuffed hand to grasp Ryan's waist and was startled when he felt Ryan pull away and take his hand.
“No touching. I want you to hold the headboard and don't let go,” Ryan said, matching actions to words.
Oh fuck.
The next moment Ryan's tongue flicked out again to lick lightly at his lips. Seth opened his mouth in invitation, but Ryan just ran his tongue inside once and then pulled back with another nip.
Seth couldn't manage to swallow his whimper when Ryan's kisses, still feather-light, moved to this throat and then down. Hot, wet, barely-felt and then gone, Ryan kept it up all over Seth's throat and jaw, under his ear, slow suck to his earlobe and a quick tongue inside, and now Seth was panting open-mouthed and holding onto the headboard for dear life. If he were Clark Kent there would have been finger-sized dents in the metal by now. Of course, if he were Clark Kent, he would have broken out of the cuffs long before Ryan ever got back, and then he wouldn't be getting ravished right now, and really, handcuffing himself to the bed might be the smartest stupid thing he'd ever done.
A sharp bite to his collarbone jerked him out of his euphoria-induced self-congratulation.
Ryan was smirking at him, drying hair falling over his eyes and a flush high on his cheeks. “I want you to ask for it.”
Ask? Ask for what? He could think of any number of things he wanted Ryan to do, how was he supposed to choose? Okay, so there *was* one thing that stood out.
“Suck me.” God, even his own voice sounded sexy to him right now, how weird was that? Ryan didn't think it was weird, if that sleepy-eyed but still intense look was anything to go by. And Seth happened to know for a fact that it did. Ryan's smirk deepened.
“Here?” he asked as he leaned in and sucked a mark on Seth's neck.
Well, that felt great-spectacular even-but Seth had meant somewhere a little lower down.
“N-no,” he managed.
“Here?” A sharp, fast suck to the jut of his collarbone.
“Uh. No-not-“
“What about *here*?” A sharp tug as lips closed around his nipple.
“*Oh* god, I meant-“
Another one to his other nipple, and Seth couldn't even form words anymore. Ryan didn't wait, though, just continued to suck kisses all over his chest and belly, his hands sliding softly up and down Seth's sides, down to his knees, back up over his thighs, past his hips and down again. All the while he murmured little things that Seth couldn't quite catch, but the scratchy whispery sound didn't need to make sense to send tingles up and down his spine. The handcuff rattled every once in a while against the headboard, and Seth was so hard he thought he wasn't so much going to come as explode in a few moments.
Ryan's tongue delved into his bellybutton and then there were more quick sharp sucks and nips on his belly and then--
And then everything suddenly stopped, and Seth looked down in surprise and not a little bit of panic.
Ryan was staring at his underwear. “Are those *mine*?”
“Does it *matter*?” No, his voice did not just crack.
Ryan shrugged and grinned up at him from underneath his bangs. “Not really. I just think it’s kind of hot.”
Oh. Fancy that.
Then Ryan peeled off whoever's shorts they were with his teeth and Seth's mind whited-out momentarily.
He blinked back to reality with the feel of Ryan's thumb and forefinger clamped firmly around the base of his cock, keeping him from coming, and Ryan's tongue leisurely licking up and down the underside. He lifted his head just as Ryan dipped his tongue into the tiny slit at the tip and then dropped it back on the pillow to stare at the ceiling, which was much less arousing than the sight of Ryan, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, wrapped around his cock. Although really, linoleum would probably be arousing to him at this point, so it didn't help much.
Suddenly Ryan's mouth was gone. Again. Why did he keep doing that? Where had it gone? If this kept happening Seth was going to stage a protest.
Ah. It was brushing up against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Which was fine and dandy, but really couldn’t compare to Ryan's mouth on his cock.
“You know, if you can't keep your voice down, I'm going to have to do it for you.”
Keep his voice down? He'd been talking? What had he been saying? On second thought, he didn't really care, as long as it didn't involve the names of cartoon characters.
Ryan didn't wait for him to reply, though, and moved up so he was straddling Seth's chest. His cock was poking out of his underwear and was very, very near Seth's mouth. So near that when Seth went to lick his lips he licked the tip of it without meaning to. Ryan's eyelids fell to half-mast and he caressed Seth's cheek, sliding his thumb into his mouth.
“Open up.” His voice was smoky and soft and left absolutely no room for argument. Not that Seth was inclined to argue just then. He wasn't really inclined to do much of anything other than exactly what Ryan said.
He tightened his grip on the headboard and obeyed.
If he had thought about it before, Seth would have said he could write an essay, a thesis even, on the unique characteristics of Ryan's dick--its taste, its scent, the way it felt on his tongue and the way it curved just a bit--and what exactly it took to get him to thrust and make that muffled whine he always made right before he came. Now it was like discovering that a whole new chapter needed to be written.
Suddenly the taste and size of Ryan in his mouth almost overwhelmed him--he was scared and excited and he flashed back for an instant to the first time he'd let Ryan give him head. Ordinarily Seth would be touching Ryan, his hands would be on him, on his hips, his thighs, his cock, guiding and controlling the movements. Now his only connection to Ryan was through the cock in his mouth and Ryan's eyes on his and Seth's hips bucked with every gentle thrust Ryan made.
His mouth felt stretched unnaturally, his jaw straining to fit around Ryan. He could feel every inch of him moving against his tongue and the salty-sweat taste was strong and made his mouth water. A lot, actually. He swallowed involuntarily and the tip of Ryan's cock nudged the back of his throat and they both groaned.
His un-shackled hand was off the rail before he realized it, moving towards Ryan's hip, but it was caught and brought back to the headboard.
Ryan moved his hands so they covered Seth's on the bar, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tightly. His mouth was open and panting and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He groaned, and Seth realized Ryan was chanting his name under his breath and had to close his eyes.
"I said...don't...move." Ryan gritted out in a strained voice. "And don't come yet either. I want to be touching you when do."
Seth's moan of protest and frustration was muffled, but Ryan shuddered and thrust a little bit harder. Seth was almost choking, but he could breathe through is nose and it all felt so unbelievably good--in that about to break into little tiny pieces suitable for the dustbuster way--that he didn't want it to end.
Except if he didn't come soon he might *actually* break apart and that was not the ideal way to get out of the handcuffs. Hoping to help speed things along, he turned as much of his attention as possible to pushing Ryan over the edge he was so obviously teetering on.
He had almost no leverage, but he concentrated on sliding his tongue up and down against Ryan's cock and sucking as hard as he could.
And Ryan's fingers tightened on his for a moment and his eyes grew wide, and then he flung his head back and blindly reached one hand behind him to grab Seth's cock and squeeze roughly--
--and then Seth was falling and Ryan was shooting down his throat and his hand was wrapped around Seth's cock which was pulsing and ohfuckohfuckoh*god*ohfuck--
When Seth could think again Ryan was off his chest and lying curled up next to him. Seth's mouth felt strangely empty and his jaw was loose. It kept wanting to swing open, waiting for something, and then snapping closed on air. He missed Ryan's cock already, even though it was kind of nice to swallow without drooling. He massaged his jaw for a minute with his uncuffed hand and then put his arm around Ryan, who obligingly snuggled closer and let a heavy arm fall across his waist.
He had the vague feeling that there was somewhere he was supposed to be, but decided it wasn't important enough to worry about. He really wasn't worried about much of anything at the moment. Funny how blindingly good sex could make all the little everyday irritations of life disappear. Like the pesky issue of his wrist still being handcuffed to the bed and the keys still being on the dresser across the room. Although come to think of it, it would be nice to put *both* arms around Ryan. And the metal was kind of beginning to dig into his skin.
"So, you think I begged nicely enough for they keys, Ry?"
No response except a soft sigh.
"Hey, dude. I'd like to get out of this now, can you go get the keys?"
Another soft sigh. Which wasn't so much a sigh as the deep, even breathing of someone who'd fallen asleep.
"Ryan?"
Shit.
--finis-
Notes: This story probably would have been posted a lot earlier, and in a lot worse form, if it hadn't been for my wonderful beta, issaro, who took my request to tear it apart to heart. I bitched and whined--to several different people, actually, because sometimes I'm just a big baby--and didn't listen to a lot of what she said, so any mistakes are entirely my own fault for being stubborn.
Also, I was originally going to write something else for Zahra's birthday, since she already knew about this existence of this fic, but a) this took longer to write than I originally anticipated; and b) as I was writing it, I realized that this was pretty much for her anyway, considering it sprang from a rather odd conversation and my assertion that I just didn't see how one could write a believable O.C. bondage fic.
And if you've read the story and say this isn't believable either, let me just tell you that it's based on a true story. ETA: I didn't say it was *my* story, people!
I should also mention (because I forgot last night) that this story really wouldn't have gotten off the ground without Zahra, because she gave me the opening paragraphs, which I then tore into little shreds and put back together.