And now she's eating chocolate to induce sleep
Hi, flist, hi. I am sickly and ill and ridiculously hormonal. This is really not a good combination of things to be. If anyone needs me I’ll be hiding in my blanket fort with the biggest bar of chocolate in the known universe. Also, hi new people! I am normally way chattier than this, honest. Normal service will be resumed as soon as I stop feeling like crap.
Anyhoo, here, have a thing I wrote and posted elsewhere for foxxcub’s birthday, that I’m reposting here because I am anal and like things to be in one place. cmonkatiekatie is an angel for doing the beta thing, and putting up with my whining. Especially for putting up with my whining. ♥
They’ve been fucking for a couple of months now. Just long enough to have gotten past the initial desperate urge for skin on skin contact with no real thought behind it and to settle into something else.
Jon isn’t sure what it is yet, this thing they’re moving towards. This thing that’s less a series of hook-ups, and more a careful, measured exploration of each other’s quirks and how they fit together, of what feels good and what not so much. Sometimes Jon wonders if they’re nudging each other towards a thing that could, maybe, feel like a relationship, but he tries to put thoughts like that from his mind. Because, right now, it all feels a little too fragile to use words like relationship, and Jon is a big believer in things that aren’t broken remaining that way.
And it’s not like they don’t talk, because they do. They talk about music and books and movies, and friends and enemies and the life they lead, and all the stupid stuff in between. But what they don’t talk about is whatever this thing they’re doing might be. Jon thinks maybe that says more than any of the words they do speak.
Or maybe not, maybe he’s reading too much into it. Maybe it’s just that there’s nothing to talk about beyond the need for a person who understands the special type of loneliness that comes with spending half your life in a bus or on a plane; stopping in a different city every day but never seeing anything of it beyond the cramped confines of dressing rooms and the weird open but closed feeling of playing a show; blinded by the lights shining back at the stage, with a sea of faces staring up at them that sometimes feels more claustrophobic than any place Jon has ever been.
So they talk but they don’t talk. And they play shows and do interviews and pose for pictures like they’re supposed to. And in between they sit in the back lounge of the bus and write songs that they’ll maybe use and maybe won’t. And they cover up the not talking with late night conversations that make no sense and silences just the right side of comfortable in the day.
And on hotel nights, they fuck.
Jon likes it best when he’s on his hands and knees with Ryan behind him. The feel of Ryan’s hands gripping his hips grounds him, stops him from freaking out and worrying about how all of this will end and how it could affect the band. Ryan prefers them to be face to face, Jon on his back and Ryan above him. Because Ryan, Jon knows, likes to see everything. Ryan wants to see the way he affects Jon, not just a reflection of it in the curve of Jon’s spine or the way his muscles bunch and flex
When they’re like that, when Ryan is looking down at him, Jon always closes his eyes, afraid that if he opens them and looks he won’t be able to look away. Ever. And that’s scary, how hard he thinks he could fall if he let himself. Because Ryan is smart and funny and outspoken, and ridiculous and shy and insecure at the same time and Jon thinks it would be too, too easy to spend years, decades even, trying to learn all the things that make Ryan who he is.
This is new though, Jon above and Ryan below. Jon is only doing it because Ryan asked: not with words, but with the way his eyes darkened and his breath hitched when Jon straddled his lap and ground down, just playfully, not really meaning anything by it, but.
Jon feels exposed like this, like Ryan will be able to see all the things he’s been trying to hide, all those doubts that Jon tries so hard not to think about but always seems to anyway. He feels awkward and ungainly, wide and solid where Ryan is skinny and slight. Jon almost feels like he could crush Ryan, even though he knows Ryan is as strong as he is, maybe stronger. His balance feels off and his legs are already beginning to cramp and even though he’s trying not to focus on anything but the slide of Ryan inside him, Jon can’t seem to relax like he knows he should.
Jon closes his eyes and sends silent apologies to every girl who’s ever ridden him. The girls he’d wished would get the rhythm right or let go and give him just that little bit more. Because it’s hard and complicated and he can’t quite make his pushes down meet with the way Ryan is trying to thrust his hips up and maybe, Jon thinks, they need Spencer to be here with his drums, pounding out a beat for them to follow like he does on stage.
The idea of that, of Spencer being in the room with them and maybe Brendon too, makes Jon falter. His rhythm growing more and more out of sync with Ryan’s until he rocks up a little too far and Ryan slips free and Jon can’t do anything but let himself drop forward until his forehead is resting in the curve of Ryan’s neck as he starts to laugh.
Ryan pokes him in the shoulder, asking, "What’s so funny?"
Jon can hear that Ryan’s trying to sound annoyed and maybe there’s a little bit of embarrassment in his tone as well, but mainly he’s laughing just as hard as Jon is.
Jon takes a moment to get himself under control then mumbles, "I think we need a click track," into Ryan’s skin.
"Yeah, maybe," Ryan laughs, then pauses, considering, "or Spencer."
Jon doesn’t bother to hide the way his breath draws in quick and sharp and when he looks up, Ryan is staring at him speculatively, one eyebrow raised and a smile beginning to curl on his lips as he says, "What I’m not good enough for you? You need Spencer as well? I see how it is."
Ryan fake pouts but there’s a hint of worry trying to hide itself underneath.
"Well..." Jon grins and then drops down to kiss the worry off of Ryan’s face, "nah, just his drums, you know like a rhythm to move to."
Ryan smiles and Jon can feel the way Ryan’s mouth curves against his, and the buzz of Ryan’s words when he speaks. "You can be the one to ask him, there’s no way in hell I’m asking him to record a drum track for us to fuck to."
"Yeah," Jon finally pulls back, sitting up and leaning back with his hands on the bed on either side of Ryan’s legs, "maybe not."
"You wanna..." Ryan waves a hand at the space beside them and Jon thinks that, yeah, it would be easier just to roll onto the bed and do what they always do, but Ryan wants this and Jon wants to give it to him, so.
"Scoot up."
Ryan looks confused so Jon pushes at his hips, trying to get him to move up the bed, closer to the headboard behind him. "If you just..."
Ryan looks round and then back at Jon and his eyes widen a little as he catches on. Then he shifts out from under Jon, rearranging the pillows and setting himself until he’s sitting propped up against the headboard, so Jon has something he can reach out and hold onto when he settles himself over Ryan’s lap again and slowly sinks down.
It’s easier like this, Jon can find the rhythm and the balance that he needs and, suddenly, the way Ryan is watching him doesn’t make him feel so exposed. Jon shifts his hands, dropping them from the headboard one by one and resting them on Ryan’s shoulders instead, letting Ryan hold him up and Ryan’s hands on his hips hold him steady. And as Ryan says, "Fuck you look..." and stretches up to kiss him, Jon stops thinking so hard and lets himself go.
Later when they’re lying with arms and legs tangled together and sweat cooling on their skin, Ryan breaks the silence and says what they’ve both been thinking, "The tour will be over soon."
Jon looks away, tries to keep his voice as even as possible when he shrugs and says, "Yeah, I guess."
Ryan’s quiet for a moment, pausing like he does when he’s considering how to say something that’s important to him in a way that sounds like it isn’t, "I was thinking, maybe you shouldn’t go back to Chicago right away. Maybe you could come to Vegas for a while, stay with me?"
Jon smiles and says, "Okay."
Anyhoo, here, have a thing I wrote and posted elsewhere for foxxcub’s birthday, that I’m reposting here because I am anal and like things to be in one place. cmonkatiekatie is an angel for doing the beta thing, and putting up with my whining. Especially for putting up with my whining. ♥
They’ve been fucking for a couple of months now. Just long enough to have gotten past the initial desperate urge for skin on skin contact with no real thought behind it and to settle into something else.
Jon isn’t sure what it is yet, this thing they’re moving towards. This thing that’s less a series of hook-ups, and more a careful, measured exploration of each other’s quirks and how they fit together, of what feels good and what not so much. Sometimes Jon wonders if they’re nudging each other towards a thing that could, maybe, feel like a relationship, but he tries to put thoughts like that from his mind. Because, right now, it all feels a little too fragile to use words like relationship, and Jon is a big believer in things that aren’t broken remaining that way.
And it’s not like they don’t talk, because they do. They talk about music and books and movies, and friends and enemies and the life they lead, and all the stupid stuff in between. But what they don’t talk about is whatever this thing they’re doing might be. Jon thinks maybe that says more than any of the words they do speak.
Or maybe not, maybe he’s reading too much into it. Maybe it’s just that there’s nothing to talk about beyond the need for a person who understands the special type of loneliness that comes with spending half your life in a bus or on a plane; stopping in a different city every day but never seeing anything of it beyond the cramped confines of dressing rooms and the weird open but closed feeling of playing a show; blinded by the lights shining back at the stage, with a sea of faces staring up at them that sometimes feels more claustrophobic than any place Jon has ever been.
So they talk but they don’t talk. And they play shows and do interviews and pose for pictures like they’re supposed to. And in between they sit in the back lounge of the bus and write songs that they’ll maybe use and maybe won’t. And they cover up the not talking with late night conversations that make no sense and silences just the right side of comfortable in the day.
And on hotel nights, they fuck.
Jon likes it best when he’s on his hands and knees with Ryan behind him. The feel of Ryan’s hands gripping his hips grounds him, stops him from freaking out and worrying about how all of this will end and how it could affect the band. Ryan prefers them to be face to face, Jon on his back and Ryan above him. Because Ryan, Jon knows, likes to see everything. Ryan wants to see the way he affects Jon, not just a reflection of it in the curve of Jon’s spine or the way his muscles bunch and flex
When they’re like that, when Ryan is looking down at him, Jon always closes his eyes, afraid that if he opens them and looks he won’t be able to look away. Ever. And that’s scary, how hard he thinks he could fall if he let himself. Because Ryan is smart and funny and outspoken, and ridiculous and shy and insecure at the same time and Jon thinks it would be too, too easy to spend years, decades even, trying to learn all the things that make Ryan who he is.
This is new though, Jon above and Ryan below. Jon is only doing it because Ryan asked: not with words, but with the way his eyes darkened and his breath hitched when Jon straddled his lap and ground down, just playfully, not really meaning anything by it, but.
Jon feels exposed like this, like Ryan will be able to see all the things he’s been trying to hide, all those doubts that Jon tries so hard not to think about but always seems to anyway. He feels awkward and ungainly, wide and solid where Ryan is skinny and slight. Jon almost feels like he could crush Ryan, even though he knows Ryan is as strong as he is, maybe stronger. His balance feels off and his legs are already beginning to cramp and even though he’s trying not to focus on anything but the slide of Ryan inside him, Jon can’t seem to relax like he knows he should.
Jon closes his eyes and sends silent apologies to every girl who’s ever ridden him. The girls he’d wished would get the rhythm right or let go and give him just that little bit more. Because it’s hard and complicated and he can’t quite make his pushes down meet with the way Ryan is trying to thrust his hips up and maybe, Jon thinks, they need Spencer to be here with his drums, pounding out a beat for them to follow like he does on stage.
The idea of that, of Spencer being in the room with them and maybe Brendon too, makes Jon falter. His rhythm growing more and more out of sync with Ryan’s until he rocks up a little too far and Ryan slips free and Jon can’t do anything but let himself drop forward until his forehead is resting in the curve of Ryan’s neck as he starts to laugh.
Ryan pokes him in the shoulder, asking, "What’s so funny?"
Jon can hear that Ryan’s trying to sound annoyed and maybe there’s a little bit of embarrassment in his tone as well, but mainly he’s laughing just as hard as Jon is.
Jon takes a moment to get himself under control then mumbles, "I think we need a click track," into Ryan’s skin.
"Yeah, maybe," Ryan laughs, then pauses, considering, "or Spencer."
Jon doesn’t bother to hide the way his breath draws in quick and sharp and when he looks up, Ryan is staring at him speculatively, one eyebrow raised and a smile beginning to curl on his lips as he says, "What I’m not good enough for you? You need Spencer as well? I see how it is."
Ryan fake pouts but there’s a hint of worry trying to hide itself underneath.
"Well..." Jon grins and then drops down to kiss the worry off of Ryan’s face, "nah, just his drums, you know like a rhythm to move to."
Ryan smiles and Jon can feel the way Ryan’s mouth curves against his, and the buzz of Ryan’s words when he speaks. "You can be the one to ask him, there’s no way in hell I’m asking him to record a drum track for us to fuck to."
"Yeah," Jon finally pulls back, sitting up and leaning back with his hands on the bed on either side of Ryan’s legs, "maybe not."
"You wanna..." Ryan waves a hand at the space beside them and Jon thinks that, yeah, it would be easier just to roll onto the bed and do what they always do, but Ryan wants this and Jon wants to give it to him, so.
"Scoot up."
Ryan looks confused so Jon pushes at his hips, trying to get him to move up the bed, closer to the headboard behind him. "If you just..."
Ryan looks round and then back at Jon and his eyes widen a little as he catches on. Then he shifts out from under Jon, rearranging the pillows and setting himself until he’s sitting propped up against the headboard, so Jon has something he can reach out and hold onto when he settles himself over Ryan’s lap again and slowly sinks down.
It’s easier like this, Jon can find the rhythm and the balance that he needs and, suddenly, the way Ryan is watching him doesn’t make him feel so exposed. Jon shifts his hands, dropping them from the headboard one by one and resting them on Ryan’s shoulders instead, letting Ryan hold him up and Ryan’s hands on his hips hold him steady. And as Ryan says, "Fuck you look..." and stretches up to kiss him, Jon stops thinking so hard and lets himself go.
Later when they’re lying with arms and legs tangled together and sweat cooling on their skin, Ryan breaks the silence and says what they’ve both been thinking, "The tour will be over soon."
Jon looks away, tries to keep his voice as even as possible when he shrugs and says, "Yeah, I guess."
Ryan’s quiet for a moment, pausing like he does when he’s considering how to say something that’s important to him in a way that sounds like it isn’t, "I was thinking, maybe you shouldn’t go back to Chicago right away. Maybe you could come to Vegas for a while, stay with me?"
Jon smiles and says, "Okay."