One-Night Stand Forever - [One]
Ryan/Brendon | Mpreg | NC-17 overall
Ryan always felt like he wasn't made for high school. Or maybe high school just wasn't made for him. He especially felt that way when he had his father's rage pulling at the heat behind his skin, tugging it forward to reveal itself through the nerve endings in Ryan's cheeks. He struggled to remove his eyes from the man's, but his own face was being held in place by two firm hands. Tears pricked at his eyelids and he closed them in an attempt to stop the liquid from pouring out and only increasing the amount of trouble in the current situation.
"You look at me when I'm talking to you, George Ross!"
Ryan's eyes fluttered open and he let in a huge breath. It felt like he hadn't taken one in years.
He had always been aware of his falling grades; the fact didn't seem to phase him. It wasn't like he had an entire list of dreams and aspirations each waiting to receive a strike of a pen through them. It wasn't like he had no desire to go to college, either; he really wanted to, actually. Ryan simply knew there was no chance because his family obviously didn't have the money.
"Don't you goddamn cry on me, either, because Lord knows it'll be embarrassing enough when all my friends find out my son's as dumb as a goddamn watermelon."
Ryan resisted the urge to retort with "It doesn't matter anyway!". He knew better than to talk back.
"You look 'ere, boy." The grip on his chin became even more crushing and he winced, his neck screaming in protest as it was jerked downward so that Ryan's eyes were only inches from the paper now being held by his father's right hand. "If I don't see Cs or above on this paper within the next month, well," his father let out a booming laugh. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see." And though that might sound ridiculous to some, Ryan would have been less fearful had it been a direct threat. The unknowns were always the worst.
Ryan stood unmoving as his father retreated from the room. When the man turned around with a glare, he immediately felt his entire body stiffen. The shove came unexpectedly and Ryan's torn, tough mattress saved him as he tumbled backward.
As the door to his bedroom closed, he heard a strong voice say, "Get to work on that essay I heard your damn boyfriend blabbering on about."
Ryan just curled into his flannel sheets and let himself be carried away into a world much more pleasant than that in which he was currently existing. Only he and William existed in his fantasy world.
Ryan liked William. Ryan didn't have feelings for William; he generally liked him. The boy was the only being to even cast eyes at Ryan during his first day of high school only a bit more than three years ago.
"I thought you were the cutest thing I'd ever seen!" William squealed at lunch. "I had a crush on you. I mean, I didn't totally stalk you and pretend I was looking for service on my phone while really taking pictures of you, but that doesn't mean BilvyandRyan4ever wasn't doodled in my notebook every so often." Before Ryan could take a breath to begin speaking, William started up again. "Really, though. We will be together forever, you and me. We'll be the ones kicked out of the nursing home for like smoking out the entire elderly population they have in there."
"Honestly, Will? I'm wondering how you even know that people do that shit with their phones. You mentioned you weren't stalking me, but you must be an expert if you know that shit. Tell me, who have you been practicing on?" Ryan questioned with a smirk, taking another bite of the chicken tenders from his school lunch and leaning back farther against the large oak tree both of the boys were situated under.
William lightly pushed Ryan, causing the boy to sway and lose his grip on the styrofoam lunch tray. The dressing for the chicken rolled directly onto Ryan's black jeans. Unfortunately, the target seemed to be his crotch. Ryan choked on the food in his mouth and glanced over at William with what he hoped was a deadly glare. The boy was too busy clutching his stomach in laughter.
"This isn't funny!" Ryan shouted, standing up. He hurried off to the bathroom, specks of white leaping off of him with every step. Girls were giggling and hiding behind their hands while boys were openly laughing and pointing in Ryan's direction.
"Looks like someone and their boyfriend had a bit too much fun during lunchtime," he heard someone yell.
Why everyone had this estranged idea that he and William were dating, Ryan had no idea. The only thought on his mind at the moment was getting to the bathroom, finding some paper towels, and wiping the mess off of his deeply contrasting pants. So that's exactly what he did and he arrived back at the tree just in time to retrieve his messenger bag and say goodbye to William.
"Wait!" Ryan felt a slender hand on his arm. He turned around to find none other than Will. "There's a party tonight." Ryan gave him a questioning look because, honestly, who would invite them to a party? William could obviously read Ryan very well. "Long story. Anyway, come with me, please?"
His mind processed the words, breaking them down and then presenting flashing images of all of the scenarios that could occur if his father found out about the party. He was sure, though, that if he told his mom he was going over to William's for some studying, he could possibly avoid any direct contact with his father whatsoever. So he nodded, agreed that he'd meet Will at his car after school, and went off to class.
Of course, Ryan's idea of everything going smoothly was incorrect in every way possible. His dad answered the house phone and Ryan cringed, clutching his stomach in the front seat of William's black Mercedes. The other boy glanced over with sorrowful eyes upon overhearing the man's voice. Ryan took a deep breath and went for it.
"Dad, I'm going to William's to do a project for History. May I spend the night?"
The sigh escaping through the phone echoed through the car's interior. William bit his lip and Ryan shut his eyes tight. His chest ached and his pulse picked up. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins.
"George, you know I hate when you don't ask me these things until last minute."
"Yes, sir. I know. I'm sorry. Th-"
"Now, George, don't go making excuses. But, I swear to God if you're not home tomorrow morning by 9 AM you can bet you'll have a more obvious limp than the one I always see you with after that boyfriend o' yours sticks his cock up your ass."
"We're no-" The line went dead.
William fell against the wheel and looked up at Ryan through a mop of brown hair. "9 AM?"
Ryan shrugged and put his seatbelt on. "Hey, it's better than nothing, right?"
William nodded and placed the key in the ignition, getting them started on the drive to his house on the other side of town.
William lived in what Ryan would refer to as the "rich people" neighborhood. His house was three stories (Ryan had nearly peed his pants when he saw it for the first time) and he even had some workers, such as a maid and a gardener. Ryan often wondered why he didn't have a chef or a driver, and William would always remind him that his parents weren't that selfish and lazy. Unfortunately, Ryan's were, which is why he lived in a trashy, roach-infested two-bedroom that was part of a duplex. Only his dad worked as a garbage man, and he was pretty sure his parents paid attention to his grades only so that he could get a scholarship, go to college, get a job, and provide for them.
But whenever Ryan was at William's house, he felt a sense of peace. The elderly Italian maid opened the door just as they reached it, kissing both of them on the cheek and waltzing past with a broom in hand to start sweeping the porch.
"Oh, Ryan dear," she called after him. He caught the door a second before it latched shut and peered his head outside to hum a questioning response. "I will make you a pot of gnocchi before you leave, yes?"
"I'd love that, Giovanna."
He closed the door and the boys retreated up the stairs and into William's room. William immediately ran for the closet.
"Okay, so what should I wear tonight?" He chewed on his fingernails and glanced at Ryan with a worried gaze. Ryan plopped down on the spacious foam mattress and let himself sink into the silk sheets of William's bed. He never had the chance to experience luxury like this, so he decided to drink it all in whenever he had time. He unwillingly opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction of William's walk-in closet which consisted of a door that led to his bathroom.
Ryan shrugged. "I like that plaid flannel you wore to the movies last week."
William's eyes widened in shock. "Ryan! How could you? Key words here: wore last week."
Ryan rolled his eyes and rubbed at his face in frustration. "Okay, fuck. Wear a fucking tuxedo. I don't care."
He felt a weight push down on the right side of the bed and William's nimble fingers were on his arm with warm breath near his ear. "Ryro," William sing-songed. "I'll let you wear anything of mine that you want if you help me pick out something."
One of Ryan's hands slid down his face, revealing a suspicious hazel eye. "Even the black jeans?"
William smiled and nodded, repeating, "Even the black jeans."
Ryan hopped up and enthusiastically kissed William's pale cheek. "I love you, Willy Wonka."
"You fucking better!" he yelled after Ryan who was currently sprinting towards the bathroom to get started on his make-up. "And hurry up! We only have seven hours and I know how long it takes you to get ready, you diva."
Ryan stuck his tongue out, but only his reflection got a view.
Ryan always felt like he wasn't made for high school. Or maybe high school just wasn't made for him. He especially felt that way when he had his father's rage pulling at the heat behind his skin, tugging it forward to reveal itself through the nerve endings in Ryan's cheeks. He struggled to remove his eyes from the man's, but his own face was being held in place by two firm hands. Tears pricked at his eyelids and he closed them in an attempt to stop the liquid from pouring out and only increasing the amount of trouble in the current situation.
"You look at me when I'm talking to you, George Ross!"
Ryan's eyes fluttered open and he let in a huge breath. It felt like he hadn't taken one in years.
He had always been aware of his falling grades; the fact didn't seem to phase him. It wasn't like he had an entire list of dreams and aspirations each waiting to receive a strike of a pen through them. It wasn't like he had no desire to go to college, either; he really wanted to, actually. Ryan simply knew there was no chance because his family obviously didn't have the money.
"Don't you goddamn cry on me, either, because Lord knows it'll be embarrassing enough when all my friends find out my son's as dumb as a goddamn watermelon."
Ryan resisted the urge to retort with "It doesn't matter anyway!". He knew better than to talk back.
"You look 'ere, boy." The grip on his chin became even more crushing and he winced, his neck screaming in protest as it was jerked downward so that Ryan's eyes were only inches from the paper now being held by his father's right hand. "If I don't see Cs or above on this paper within the next month, well," his father let out a booming laugh. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see." And though that might sound ridiculous to some, Ryan would have been less fearful had it been a direct threat. The unknowns were always the worst.
Ryan stood unmoving as his father retreated from the room. When the man turned around with a glare, he immediately felt his entire body stiffen. The shove came unexpectedly and Ryan's torn, tough mattress saved him as he tumbled backward.
As the door to his bedroom closed, he heard a strong voice say, "Get to work on that essay I heard your damn boyfriend blabbering on about."
Ryan just curled into his flannel sheets and let himself be carried away into a world much more pleasant than that in which he was currently existing. Only he and William existed in his fantasy world.
Ryan liked William. Ryan didn't have feelings for William; he generally liked him. The boy was the only being to even cast eyes at Ryan during his first day of high school only a bit more than three years ago.
"I thought you were the cutest thing I'd ever seen!" William squealed at lunch. "I had a crush on you. I mean, I didn't totally stalk you and pretend I was looking for service on my phone while really taking pictures of you, but that doesn't mean BilvyandRyan4ever wasn't doodled in my notebook every so often." Before Ryan could take a breath to begin speaking, William started up again. "Really, though. We will be together forever, you and me. We'll be the ones kicked out of the nursing home for like smoking out the entire elderly population they have in there."
"Honestly, Will? I'm wondering how you even know that people do that shit with their phones. You mentioned you weren't stalking me, but you must be an expert if you know that shit. Tell me, who have you been practicing on?" Ryan questioned with a smirk, taking another bite of the chicken tenders from his school lunch and leaning back farther against the large oak tree both of the boys were situated under.
William lightly pushed Ryan, causing the boy to sway and lose his grip on the styrofoam lunch tray. The dressing for the chicken rolled directly onto Ryan's black jeans. Unfortunately, the target seemed to be his crotch. Ryan choked on the food in his mouth and glanced over at William with what he hoped was a deadly glare. The boy was too busy clutching his stomach in laughter.
"This isn't funny!" Ryan shouted, standing up. He hurried off to the bathroom, specks of white leaping off of him with every step. Girls were giggling and hiding behind their hands while boys were openly laughing and pointing in Ryan's direction.
"Looks like someone and their boyfriend had a bit too much fun during lunchtime," he heard someone yell.
Why everyone had this estranged idea that he and William were dating, Ryan had no idea. The only thought on his mind at the moment was getting to the bathroom, finding some paper towels, and wiping the mess off of his deeply contrasting pants. So that's exactly what he did and he arrived back at the tree just in time to retrieve his messenger bag and say goodbye to William.
"Wait!" Ryan felt a slender hand on his arm. He turned around to find none other than Will. "There's a party tonight." Ryan gave him a questioning look because, honestly, who would invite them to a party? William could obviously read Ryan very well. "Long story. Anyway, come with me, please?"
His mind processed the words, breaking them down and then presenting flashing images of all of the scenarios that could occur if his father found out about the party. He was sure, though, that if he told his mom he was going over to William's for some studying, he could possibly avoid any direct contact with his father whatsoever. So he nodded, agreed that he'd meet Will at his car after school, and went off to class.
Of course, Ryan's idea of everything going smoothly was incorrect in every way possible. His dad answered the house phone and Ryan cringed, clutching his stomach in the front seat of William's black Mercedes. The other boy glanced over with sorrowful eyes upon overhearing the man's voice. Ryan took a deep breath and went for it.
"Dad, I'm going to William's to do a project for History. May I spend the night?"
The sigh escaping through the phone echoed through the car's interior. William bit his lip and Ryan shut his eyes tight. His chest ached and his pulse picked up. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins.
"George, you know I hate when you don't ask me these things until last minute."
"Yes, sir. I know. I'm sorry. Th-"
"Now, George, don't go making excuses. But, I swear to God if you're not home tomorrow morning by 9 AM you can bet you'll have a more obvious limp than the one I always see you with after that boyfriend o' yours sticks his cock up your ass."
"We're no-" The line went dead.
William fell against the wheel and looked up at Ryan through a mop of brown hair. "9 AM?"
Ryan shrugged and put his seatbelt on. "Hey, it's better than nothing, right?"
William nodded and placed the key in the ignition, getting them started on the drive to his house on the other side of town.
William lived in what Ryan would refer to as the "rich people" neighborhood. His house was three stories (Ryan had nearly peed his pants when he saw it for the first time) and he even had some workers, such as a maid and a gardener. Ryan often wondered why he didn't have a chef or a driver, and William would always remind him that his parents weren't that selfish and lazy. Unfortunately, Ryan's were, which is why he lived in a trashy, roach-infested two-bedroom that was part of a duplex. Only his dad worked as a garbage man, and he was pretty sure his parents paid attention to his grades only so that he could get a scholarship, go to college, get a job, and provide for them.
But whenever Ryan was at William's house, he felt a sense of peace. The elderly Italian maid opened the door just as they reached it, kissing both of them on the cheek and waltzing past with a broom in hand to start sweeping the porch.
"Oh, Ryan dear," she called after him. He caught the door a second before it latched shut and peered his head outside to hum a questioning response. "I will make you a pot of gnocchi before you leave, yes?"
"I'd love that, Giovanna."
He closed the door and the boys retreated up the stairs and into William's room. William immediately ran for the closet.
"Okay, so what should I wear tonight?" He chewed on his fingernails and glanced at Ryan with a worried gaze. Ryan plopped down on the spacious foam mattress and let himself sink into the silk sheets of William's bed. He never had the chance to experience luxury like this, so he decided to drink it all in whenever he had time. He unwillingly opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction of William's walk-in closet which consisted of a door that led to his bathroom.
Ryan shrugged. "I like that plaid flannel you wore to the movies last week."
William's eyes widened in shock. "Ryan! How could you? Key words here: wore last week."
Ryan rolled his eyes and rubbed at his face in frustration. "Okay, fuck. Wear a fucking tuxedo. I don't care."
He felt a weight push down on the right side of the bed and William's nimble fingers were on his arm with warm breath near his ear. "Ryro," William sing-songed. "I'll let you wear anything of mine that you want if you help me pick out something."
One of Ryan's hands slid down his face, revealing a suspicious hazel eye. "Even the black jeans?"
William smiled and nodded, repeating, "Even the black jeans."
Ryan hopped up and enthusiastically kissed William's pale cheek. "I love you, Willy Wonka."
"You fucking better!" he yelled after Ryan who was currently sprinting towards the bathroom to get started on his make-up. "And hurry up! We only have seven hours and I know how long it takes you to get ready, you diva."
Ryan stuck his tongue out, but only his reflection got a view.