fic: take a guess, ryan/jon, nc17
Title: Take a Guess
Pairing: Ryan/Jon
Rating: NC17
Summary: "Whatever, can we stop talking about how bad I am at guessing and get back to-"
Warnings: Who's up for a filthy underlubed fuck in the men's room with bonus buttplug action? Oh yeah.
Notes: I have no shame and this is for lyo. 2200 words.
***
Alex finds a new bar and immediately declares it to be his favorite.
"It's the ambiance, Ross," he tells Ryan, gesturing expansively while they're smoking on Ryan's porch a few nights later. "You've got to feel it to believe it."
Ryan's personal opinion of the bar, once he's seen it, is that it feels like being five weeks into a seven-week tour, grimy and reeking of cigarette smoke and cheap beer, but he should have known that that was what Alex meant by "ambiance." Alex misses touring.
Besides, the place isn't all bad; once they claim a cramped, sticky little booth in the back it's easy for Jon to crowd in close, their thighs pressing together under the table, and slide an arm around the small of Ryan's back, away from where anyone else can see. It makes Ryan feel special, however eighth-grade that sounds. Loved.
Z is telling some random story and Alex is laughing way too loud, a third of the way into their second pitcher of PBR, when Jon leans in and lets his lips brush the shell of Ryan's ear.
"Guess what," he says.
Ryan knows that tone of voice; he walks the fingers of one hand over to Jon's thigh, curling his hand around the inside of his knee. "What?" he asks.
Jon frowns. "Would it kill you to actually guess for a change?"
"But I suck at guessing," Ryan says. He slides his hand up Jon's thigh a little, hopeful.
"That's because you never try," Jon grouses.
"I don't try because I never get it," Ryan replies. He thinks this should be self-evident. "Whatever, can we stop talking about how bad I am at guessing and get back to-" His hand is almost cupping Jon through his jeans now, so close to the heat of Jon's cock that just the anticipation is beginning to turn Ryan on.
Alex and Z are still laughing about something, Ryan doesn't know what, and Jon just pensively turns back to watch them, smiling when they look his way. "Nevermind," he says. shifting his hips so that Ryan's hand is no longer in his lap, and Ryan finds that very upsetting.
"Jon," he says, "hey, come on."
"Nope," Jon says, and then he moves out of Ryan's space completely, so they're just barely touching under the table.
Ryan makes a frustrated sound, turned on and missing Jon's touch, and then he makes a snap decision. "Move," he says to Jon. "I have to piss."
"That so," Jon says, gives him an unimpressed look.
"You could come along," Ryan says. "You know, if you want."
Jon manages to keep a straight face for a whole ten seconds before he cracks. His hand finds Ryan's under the table, and he leans in to kiss just behind Ryan's ear. "Yeah, okay," he says, and Ryan mentally congratulates himself.
"Where are you going?" Z asks when they get up, Jon tugging gently on Ryan's hand.
"Field trip," Jon says shortly, his hand automatically going to the small of Ryan's back when Ryan stumbles stepping down from the elevated booth. Ryan grins at him.
Alex and Z both make gagging noises.
"You two are disgusting," Alex says. "Bring us another pitcher on your way back?"
Jon flips him off as they walk off.
"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Jon asks him.
"None," Ryan says, but then Jon spots a RESTROOMS sign with an arrow and they're golden.
The men's room is empty; Ryan flips the lock on the door and crowds Jon against the sink, pinning him in place with his hips.
"Hi," he says, ducking his head for a quick kiss, delicately flicking his tongue over Jon's lower lip. "Guess what."
"What?" Jon says, caught somewhere between a laugh and a moan when Ryan skims his hands over the front of Jon's jeans.
"I'm gonna suck you off now," he says, decisive and matter-of-fact, and then drops to his knees on the surprisingly clean floor.
"Jesus, Ryan." Jon is already staring down at him with dark eyes, breathing a little bit too fast; his dick is pressing half-hard against his zipper when Ryan reaches up to unbutton his jeans.
Ryan unceremoniously pushes Jon's jeans down his thighs and curls his fingers around Jon's cock, leaning forward to lick thoughtfully at the head as he strokes Jon fully hard. "Is this -what you wanted me-to guess?" he asks in between licks. "That you were hard for me? Or that you wanted me on my knees for you?" He brings his other hand up to cup Jon's balls, his fingers sliding just behind them, into the tight space between his thighs, to seek out the spot where it drives Jon wild to be touched. "Because all you had to do was-oh." Ryan makes a soft sound of surprise as he feels around the base of the plug, getting his fingers a little slippery with lube as he strokes over Jon's rim where he's stretched tight around the narrow part. "Oh," Ryan says again.
Jon flushes a little. "You were saying?" he manages.
"All you had to-fuck, Jon, this whole time?" Ryan moans as he imagines Jon fingering himself open quickly before they left the house, sliding the plug inside himself and then managing to act like everything was totally normal for hours.
"Talking too much," Jon says, looking pointedly down at his cock.
"Yeah." Ryan pushes Jon's jeans down until they're bunched around his ankles, so he can push Jon's thighs farther apart, so he can have better access to the plug. He taps the base of it lightly, looking up at Jon's face through his lashes, and then pushes, nudging the toy a little deeper inside of him. "Want to-" he says, and then he grips the base of the plug and pulls it out a little, watching the flared part appear between Jon's spread thighs, and then lets it go, watching, fascinated, as Jon's ass swallows it again.
Jon makes a strangled sound, and his cock jerks. "Ryan," he moans.
"Shh," Ryan says, leaning forward to take just the head of Jon's cock into his mouth, sucking softly as he does it again, pulls the plug halfway out and then lets Jon's body have it back.
"Fuck," Jon bites out, and reaches down to tangle his fingers in Ryan's hair, not thrusting into his mouth, just to hold on; he's holding onto the edge of the sink with the other, his knuckles white. He circles his hips, grinding down on the plug as Ryan holds it steady, and makes a low, gorgeous sound. "More, God, need more."
Ryan hums around his mouthful and starts fucking Jon steadily with the plug, little abortive thrusts that have to be nudging hard against his prostate, given the way his thighs shake and the slick tang of precome on Ryan's tongue. Jon makes a breathy sound when Ryan pulls off, giving the tip of Jon's cock one last lingering lick but keeping up his rhythm with the plug steady. "Could you come from this?" Ryan asks softly. "Me barely touching your cock while I fuck you with your little toy?"
Jon shakes as he laughs a little. "It's not little," he says.
Ryan responds with a particularly hard thrust of the plug, and Jon moans again. "Could you?" he asks again.
"Yeah," Jon manages to say. His hips are working now in tiny thrusts, looking for friction on his needy cock. "But I'd rather have you in me when I come."
"Oh, fuck," Ryan says, knocking his forehead against Jon's hip, fighting down the arousal that crashes through him.
Jon laughs again, stroking Ryan's hair. "Please?"
Reluctantly letting go of the plug, Ryan stands up and kisses Jon quickly. "Condom?" he asks.
"Haven't got one." Jon's eyes are dark and liquid with arousal. "I don't care if you don't."
Ryan moans and presses his hand against his cock through his pants. "Lube?"
"I'm already wet," Jon says.
"Fuck," Ryan says again. "Turn, turn around, I want-"
"Yeah." Jon shuffles around as best he can with his jeans still around his ankles, and bends over the sink without being asked, arching his back a little to offer himself up.
Ryan takes hold of the plug again and slowly pulls it out, relishing Jon's groan as the widest part of the flare stretches him, and then almost drops the stupid thing when the rest of it slides out quickly. "Shit, what should I do with-"
Jon grabs a couple of paper towels and tosses them in the sink. "Here," he says, and Ryan unceremoniously drops the plug on top of them, trying not to let the wet shine of lube on its surface distract him.
"Hold on," Ryan says. He pushes his pants down just enough to pull out his cock, and then spits in his hand to get himself wet. He catches Jon's eyes in the mirror over the sink. "You ready?"
"Fuck, yes, come on," Jon says, leaning farther over the sink and going up on his toes to make the angle easier for Ryan. He makes a choked-off noise when the head of Ryan's cock pushes against his rim and slides inside with barely any resistance, not with Jon having been held open for so long already.
But even though it's an easy slide in, Jon is still hot and tight around him, rocking backwards into the press of Ryan's cock, impatient for it the way he always is when Ryan fucks him. "Fucking greedy," Ryan tells him, pulling out and then thrusting back in slowly.
"Fucking tease," Jon counters, flushed and wrecked in the bathroom mirror, clenching down hard around Ryan's cock, and that's enough to make Ryan narrow his eyes and move his hands so he's holding on tightly to Jon's hips, dragging him back into the force of every thrust as Jon pants and groans through it.
"Me?" Ryan says, affronted, punctuating the words with a vicious circle of his hips that makes Jon shake. "You and your-your guessing games and your butt plugs and-"
"Fuck, just shut up and fuck me," Jon says, reaching down with one hand to touch himself. Ryan can feel the second he curls his hand around his cock, can feel Jon's full-body shudder as he finally gives in to his body's need for friction, and Ryan's eyes flutter shut before he snaps them open again to glower at Jon in the mirror.
"Calling me a tease," he grumbles, but he tightens his grip on Jon's hips and loses himself in fucking Jon hard, hard enough that he'll have bruises on his hips in the shape of Ryan's fingers, and trying not to come too soon.
Jon gets noisy when he gets close, his low, broken moans getting louder and higher as he trembles around Ryan's cock.
"Yeah," Ryan says, "come on." He pushes in all the way and stays there, grinding in deep and watching Jon's face contort in the mirror, watching the wet splatter of Jon's come on his fist and the edge of the sink.
"Ryan," Jon moans, chest heaving, slumping forward a little as he strokes himself through it.
"Close," Ryan replies, draping himself over Jon's back, his hips working erratically. He presses his mouth against the back of Jon's neck, just above the edge of his t-shirt, and he comes with the taste of Jon's sweat on his tongue, spilling inside the tight heat of Jon's ass.
They stay like that until their breathing syncs up. Jon makes a soft sound as Ryan pulls out and then straightens up, turning in Ryan's arms so he can tilt his face up for a kiss.
"Still can't believe you called me a tease," Ryan murmurs into Jon's mouth, and smiles in return when he feels Jon's lips turning up against his own.
"Still can't believe you didn't take the bait when we were sitting out there," Jon counters.
"But I hate guessing." Ryan reaches for another handful of paper towels so he can clean himself up. "What are we going to do with, um."
Jon looks down, his cheeks flushing again. "You could put it back in me," he says.
Ryan stops short, his dick twitching in his hand. "You'd-"
"I'd still be wet from you when we got home," Jon says, looking up at Ryan through his lashes.
"Fuck," Ryan says.
"Well, yeah," Jon says. "That is the general idea."
When Ryan and Jon get back to the table, still looking fucked-out and disheveled despite their best efforts, there are two girls and a guy that Ryan has never seen before sitting on Jon and Ryan's side of the booth.
"Who the fuck are they?" Jon asks, before Ryan gets a chance to.
"Where's our fucking beer?" Alex counters.
Jon leans over the newcomers to reach Ryan's jacket, which is still lying on the far side of the table. "Buy your own beer, Greenwald."
"Wait, you're leaving?" Z says. "Seriously? After-"
"I'll call you tomorrow," Ryan says mildly as he shrugs on his coat, grinning down at Jon.
They cheerfully ignore a second chorus of gagging noises as they head for the door.
***
Pairing: Ryan/Jon
Rating: NC17
Summary: "Whatever, can we stop talking about how bad I am at guessing and get back to-"
Warnings: Who's up for a filthy underlubed fuck in the men's room with bonus buttplug action? Oh yeah.
Notes: I have no shame and this is for lyo. 2200 words.
***
Alex finds a new bar and immediately declares it to be his favorite.
"It's the ambiance, Ross," he tells Ryan, gesturing expansively while they're smoking on Ryan's porch a few nights later. "You've got to feel it to believe it."
Ryan's personal opinion of the bar, once he's seen it, is that it feels like being five weeks into a seven-week tour, grimy and reeking of cigarette smoke and cheap beer, but he should have known that that was what Alex meant by "ambiance." Alex misses touring.
Besides, the place isn't all bad; once they claim a cramped, sticky little booth in the back it's easy for Jon to crowd in close, their thighs pressing together under the table, and slide an arm around the small of Ryan's back, away from where anyone else can see. It makes Ryan feel special, however eighth-grade that sounds. Loved.
Z is telling some random story and Alex is laughing way too loud, a third of the way into their second pitcher of PBR, when Jon leans in and lets his lips brush the shell of Ryan's ear.
"Guess what," he says.
Ryan knows that tone of voice; he walks the fingers of one hand over to Jon's thigh, curling his hand around the inside of his knee. "What?" he asks.
Jon frowns. "Would it kill you to actually guess for a change?"
"But I suck at guessing," Ryan says. He slides his hand up Jon's thigh a little, hopeful.
"That's because you never try," Jon grouses.
"I don't try because I never get it," Ryan replies. He thinks this should be self-evident. "Whatever, can we stop talking about how bad I am at guessing and get back to-" His hand is almost cupping Jon through his jeans now, so close to the heat of Jon's cock that just the anticipation is beginning to turn Ryan on.
Alex and Z are still laughing about something, Ryan doesn't know what, and Jon just pensively turns back to watch them, smiling when they look his way. "Nevermind," he says. shifting his hips so that Ryan's hand is no longer in his lap, and Ryan finds that very upsetting.
"Jon," he says, "hey, come on."
"Nope," Jon says, and then he moves out of Ryan's space completely, so they're just barely touching under the table.
Ryan makes a frustrated sound, turned on and missing Jon's touch, and then he makes a snap decision. "Move," he says to Jon. "I have to piss."
"That so," Jon says, gives him an unimpressed look.
"You could come along," Ryan says. "You know, if you want."
Jon manages to keep a straight face for a whole ten seconds before he cracks. His hand finds Ryan's under the table, and he leans in to kiss just behind Ryan's ear. "Yeah, okay," he says, and Ryan mentally congratulates himself.
"Where are you going?" Z asks when they get up, Jon tugging gently on Ryan's hand.
"Field trip," Jon says shortly, his hand automatically going to the small of Ryan's back when Ryan stumbles stepping down from the elevated booth. Ryan grins at him.
Alex and Z both make gagging noises.
"You two are disgusting," Alex says. "Bring us another pitcher on your way back?"
Jon flips him off as they walk off.
"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Jon asks him.
"None," Ryan says, but then Jon spots a RESTROOMS sign with an arrow and they're golden.
The men's room is empty; Ryan flips the lock on the door and crowds Jon against the sink, pinning him in place with his hips.
"Hi," he says, ducking his head for a quick kiss, delicately flicking his tongue over Jon's lower lip. "Guess what."
"What?" Jon says, caught somewhere between a laugh and a moan when Ryan skims his hands over the front of Jon's jeans.
"I'm gonna suck you off now," he says, decisive and matter-of-fact, and then drops to his knees on the surprisingly clean floor.
"Jesus, Ryan." Jon is already staring down at him with dark eyes, breathing a little bit too fast; his dick is pressing half-hard against his zipper when Ryan reaches up to unbutton his jeans.
Ryan unceremoniously pushes Jon's jeans down his thighs and curls his fingers around Jon's cock, leaning forward to lick thoughtfully at the head as he strokes Jon fully hard. "Is this -what you wanted me-to guess?" he asks in between licks. "That you were hard for me? Or that you wanted me on my knees for you?" He brings his other hand up to cup Jon's balls, his fingers sliding just behind them, into the tight space between his thighs, to seek out the spot where it drives Jon wild to be touched. "Because all you had to do was-oh." Ryan makes a soft sound of surprise as he feels around the base of the plug, getting his fingers a little slippery with lube as he strokes over Jon's rim where he's stretched tight around the narrow part. "Oh," Ryan says again.
Jon flushes a little. "You were saying?" he manages.
"All you had to-fuck, Jon, this whole time?" Ryan moans as he imagines Jon fingering himself open quickly before they left the house, sliding the plug inside himself and then managing to act like everything was totally normal for hours.
"Talking too much," Jon says, looking pointedly down at his cock.
"Yeah." Ryan pushes Jon's jeans down until they're bunched around his ankles, so he can push Jon's thighs farther apart, so he can have better access to the plug. He taps the base of it lightly, looking up at Jon's face through his lashes, and then pushes, nudging the toy a little deeper inside of him. "Want to-" he says, and then he grips the base of the plug and pulls it out a little, watching the flared part appear between Jon's spread thighs, and then lets it go, watching, fascinated, as Jon's ass swallows it again.
Jon makes a strangled sound, and his cock jerks. "Ryan," he moans.
"Shh," Ryan says, leaning forward to take just the head of Jon's cock into his mouth, sucking softly as he does it again, pulls the plug halfway out and then lets Jon's body have it back.
"Fuck," Jon bites out, and reaches down to tangle his fingers in Ryan's hair, not thrusting into his mouth, just to hold on; he's holding onto the edge of the sink with the other, his knuckles white. He circles his hips, grinding down on the plug as Ryan holds it steady, and makes a low, gorgeous sound. "More, God, need more."
Ryan hums around his mouthful and starts fucking Jon steadily with the plug, little abortive thrusts that have to be nudging hard against his prostate, given the way his thighs shake and the slick tang of precome on Ryan's tongue. Jon makes a breathy sound when Ryan pulls off, giving the tip of Jon's cock one last lingering lick but keeping up his rhythm with the plug steady. "Could you come from this?" Ryan asks softly. "Me barely touching your cock while I fuck you with your little toy?"
Jon shakes as he laughs a little. "It's not little," he says.
Ryan responds with a particularly hard thrust of the plug, and Jon moans again. "Could you?" he asks again.
"Yeah," Jon manages to say. His hips are working now in tiny thrusts, looking for friction on his needy cock. "But I'd rather have you in me when I come."
"Oh, fuck," Ryan says, knocking his forehead against Jon's hip, fighting down the arousal that crashes through him.
Jon laughs again, stroking Ryan's hair. "Please?"
Reluctantly letting go of the plug, Ryan stands up and kisses Jon quickly. "Condom?" he asks.
"Haven't got one." Jon's eyes are dark and liquid with arousal. "I don't care if you don't."
Ryan moans and presses his hand against his cock through his pants. "Lube?"
"I'm already wet," Jon says.
"Fuck," Ryan says again. "Turn, turn around, I want-"
"Yeah." Jon shuffles around as best he can with his jeans still around his ankles, and bends over the sink without being asked, arching his back a little to offer himself up.
Ryan takes hold of the plug again and slowly pulls it out, relishing Jon's groan as the widest part of the flare stretches him, and then almost drops the stupid thing when the rest of it slides out quickly. "Shit, what should I do with-"
Jon grabs a couple of paper towels and tosses them in the sink. "Here," he says, and Ryan unceremoniously drops the plug on top of them, trying not to let the wet shine of lube on its surface distract him.
"Hold on," Ryan says. He pushes his pants down just enough to pull out his cock, and then spits in his hand to get himself wet. He catches Jon's eyes in the mirror over the sink. "You ready?"
"Fuck, yes, come on," Jon says, leaning farther over the sink and going up on his toes to make the angle easier for Ryan. He makes a choked-off noise when the head of Ryan's cock pushes against his rim and slides inside with barely any resistance, not with Jon having been held open for so long already.
But even though it's an easy slide in, Jon is still hot and tight around him, rocking backwards into the press of Ryan's cock, impatient for it the way he always is when Ryan fucks him. "Fucking greedy," Ryan tells him, pulling out and then thrusting back in slowly.
"Fucking tease," Jon counters, flushed and wrecked in the bathroom mirror, clenching down hard around Ryan's cock, and that's enough to make Ryan narrow his eyes and move his hands so he's holding on tightly to Jon's hips, dragging him back into the force of every thrust as Jon pants and groans through it.
"Me?" Ryan says, affronted, punctuating the words with a vicious circle of his hips that makes Jon shake. "You and your-your guessing games and your butt plugs and-"
"Fuck, just shut up and fuck me," Jon says, reaching down with one hand to touch himself. Ryan can feel the second he curls his hand around his cock, can feel Jon's full-body shudder as he finally gives in to his body's need for friction, and Ryan's eyes flutter shut before he snaps them open again to glower at Jon in the mirror.
"Calling me a tease," he grumbles, but he tightens his grip on Jon's hips and loses himself in fucking Jon hard, hard enough that he'll have bruises on his hips in the shape of Ryan's fingers, and trying not to come too soon.
Jon gets noisy when he gets close, his low, broken moans getting louder and higher as he trembles around Ryan's cock.
"Yeah," Ryan says, "come on." He pushes in all the way and stays there, grinding in deep and watching Jon's face contort in the mirror, watching the wet splatter of Jon's come on his fist and the edge of the sink.
"Ryan," Jon moans, chest heaving, slumping forward a little as he strokes himself through it.
"Close," Ryan replies, draping himself over Jon's back, his hips working erratically. He presses his mouth against the back of Jon's neck, just above the edge of his t-shirt, and he comes with the taste of Jon's sweat on his tongue, spilling inside the tight heat of Jon's ass.
They stay like that until their breathing syncs up. Jon makes a soft sound as Ryan pulls out and then straightens up, turning in Ryan's arms so he can tilt his face up for a kiss.
"Still can't believe you called me a tease," Ryan murmurs into Jon's mouth, and smiles in return when he feels Jon's lips turning up against his own.
"Still can't believe you didn't take the bait when we were sitting out there," Jon counters.
"But I hate guessing." Ryan reaches for another handful of paper towels so he can clean himself up. "What are we going to do with, um."
Jon looks down, his cheeks flushing again. "You could put it back in me," he says.
Ryan stops short, his dick twitching in his hand. "You'd-"
"I'd still be wet from you when we got home," Jon says, looking up at Ryan through his lashes.
"Fuck," Ryan says.
"Well, yeah," Jon says. "That is the general idea."
When Ryan and Jon get back to the table, still looking fucked-out and disheveled despite their best efforts, there are two girls and a guy that Ryan has never seen before sitting on Jon and Ryan's side of the booth.
"Who the fuck are they?" Jon asks, before Ryan gets a chance to.
"Where's our fucking beer?" Alex counters.
Jon leans over the newcomers to reach Ryan's jacket, which is still lying on the far side of the table. "Buy your own beer, Greenwald."
"Wait, you're leaving?" Z says. "Seriously? After-"
"I'll call you tomorrow," Ryan says mildly as he shrugs on his coat, grinning down at Jon.
They cheerfully ignore a second chorus of gagging noises as they head for the door.
***