American Idol FF: Excuses to stay indoors [Ryan/Simon; NC-17; RPF]
Reposting from 
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: Excuses to stay indoors
Fandom: American Idol
Pairing: Ryan/Simon RPF
Rating: NC-17
Length: 1,176 words
Disclaimer: Ryan and Simon belong to themselves.
Summary: Prompt was London rain, originally here.
AN: May or may not bear any relation to Ryan's actual timeline while in London.
It's not that Ryan didn't pack for rain - he did, because this is England, and he's visited often enough that he expects it. But London is deceptive that way. The first day is beautiful: not as hot as LA, but sunny and warm, and Ryan is thinking that he could be okay here too.
Day two starts the same way, with the sun casting bright lines through the gaps in the curtains. Ryan goes out in a t-shirt and jeans.
The sky is grey by five, and by six-thirty the rain is falling hard. Ryan waits for Simon outside the restaurant, and watches raindrops bounce from the sidewalk.
Simon pulls up in a black car with a driver. He opens the door and laughs. "You look dreadful. How many times have you visited now?"
"The weather was good yesterday."
Simon looks at him incredulously. "Yes. And?"
"And this morning, actually. Anyway, do you want to-?"
Simon interrupts him, "You can't possibly think we're still going out. You look like you've been dropped in a lake." He talks over Ryan's protest. "I don't care if you're best friends with Jamie Oliver now - I've eaten in the restaurant before and it's not worth my having to pay to re-carpet the place when you drip all over it. Come back to mine and we can order in."
"We order in all the time."
Simon shrugs. "We eat out all the time too. The only thing we don't do is cook, and that's probably for the best."
"I like the food shows," Ryan says, getting into the car.
"I know you do," Simon says. It's a distracted, placating tone - Ryan’s very familiar with it.
He closes the door behind him and Simon has already got the driver to turn the heat on. They sit on opposite sides, against the doors, with Ryan dripping on the upholstery.
Simon asks, "So. How are you enjoying your vacation?"
Ryan laughs at him. "I liked the last one better. Also, for the hundredth time, this is a business trip."
Simon looks at him pointedly. Ryan shivers, and Simon frowns. "You truly are an idiot." He leans into the front of the car. "How much higher does the heater go?"
There is a blast of warmer air, which only serves to make Ryan jump.
Simon asks, "If I offered you my jacket, you wouldn't take it, would you?"
Ryan considers. "No, probably not."
Simon nods. Clothes-sharing is a particular level of intimacy they've never really indulged. And Ryan has no desire to play prom-date in Simon's too-large suit jacket. He does move a little closer on the seat, where Simon is warmer than the rest of the car.
Ryan knows Simon's place in LA pretty well, but he’s been to this one more than a few times too. Simon throws a towel at Ryan's head when they get inside. It's worryingly domestic, right up until the moment Simon sits on the end of the couch and stares at him.
“What?” Ryan asks.
“Shirt off before you catch something. Jeans too.”
“I’m not just going to sit here naked, Simon.”
“One - I can get you a robe or something if you insist. Two - I wasn’t asking you to just sit there.”
And then he waits in silence, while Ryan pulls off his jeans and t-shirt and leaves them sitting damply on Simon’s floor. Ryan runs the towel over his hair and fights the urge to hide behind the couch.
There’s- He’s not as fragile as all that. If he overreacted every time Simon looked at him the way he looks at contestants - cool, appraising, unmoved - he would get nothing done. He’s been working with Simon for - God - eight years now. Most of the time, Ryan is immune.
But the lights are on, and they’re both sober, and Simon is fully clothed and Ryan mostly naked, skin chilled and hair a mess. At the disadvantage he tries so hard never to at be with Simon.
Simon’s voice is low and deep. “It amazes me, you know.”
“What?”
“The amount of time you put into all this,” He waves his hand up and down to indicate Ryan’s body, “and you have no damn idea how-” Simon walks across the room.
Ryan hums the question at Simon’s chest.
“-how much I want to fuck you right now,” Simon finishes.
“I have some idea,” Ryan says.
“Yes, well, now you can feel it,” Simon says, pressed tight against Ryan’s hip, “that doesn’t count as insight.”
“I’m not exactly at my best right now.” Ryan believes this should be pointed out.
Simon runs his hands down Ryan’s arms, moving him without asking, towards the floor. “You’re here,” Simon says, “and naked. Wet and naked was an unanticipated bonus, true. But then you’re counteracting that by being something of a tease.”
“I’m here,” Ryan says, “in London. Wet and naked and on your floor. What more can you possibly want?”
Simon kneels down between Ryan’s legs, shifting them up. He slides Ryan’s underwear off his hips, and tosses them behind him. His mouth is warm, leaving a trail from Ryan’s stomach down to his cock. Simon uses one hand to hold him still, to stop Ryan thrusting up and choking him. The other hand is working Ryan open, very slowly. “Wait, wait, wait,” Ryan breathes.
Simon stops immediately. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yes. Just. Ready now.”
Simon looks down pointedly.
“Fuck me first. If that doesn’t- You can finish later.”
Simon is laughing until the moment he slides into Ryan and Ryan gasps. Simon’s gaze fixes on him. Appraising, perhaps, but not cool. Not unmoved. Simon slides forward another inch; Ryan exhales shakily. “Go,” he says. “Go on, Si.”
Simon’s hand is against Ryan’s face; his thumb runs against the curve of Ryan’s mouth. He shifts again. His hand strokes down Ryan’s breastbone, following the light line of hair to his stomach.
Ryan pushes up, taking the last that Simon won’t give. He grips onto Simon and drags him into a faster pace. He’s trying to make Simon respond, almost forgotten that he hasn’t actually come yet. His orgasm, when it hits, takes him by surprise with its force. It drags him up against Simon, splashing both of their chests and thighs. Simon rides him through the aftershocks, slower, until he follows Ryan into climax.
Simon lies beside him on the carpet and looks at the ceiling.
After a while, Ryan offers, “I don’t think I’m a tease.”
“Of course not.” Simon finds the long discarded towel and wipes himself clean.
Ryan says, “I need a shower. Before you say anything about me getting wet enough earlier, think very carefully about whether or not you’re going to want sex again this trip.”
Simon smirks. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll call the takeout while you’re gone.” He heads towards the phone and stops. Simon kisses him again, with his hands in the spikes of Ryan’s damp hair. “We can go out tomorrow, if you want. I’ll bring an umbrella.”
FIN
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: Excuses to stay indoors
Fandom: American Idol
Pairing: Ryan/Simon RPF
Rating: NC-17
Length: 1,176 words
Disclaimer: Ryan and Simon belong to themselves.
Summary: Prompt was London rain, originally here.
AN: May or may not bear any relation to Ryan's actual timeline while in London.
It's not that Ryan didn't pack for rain - he did, because this is England, and he's visited often enough that he expects it. But London is deceptive that way. The first day is beautiful: not as hot as LA, but sunny and warm, and Ryan is thinking that he could be okay here too.
Day two starts the same way, with the sun casting bright lines through the gaps in the curtains. Ryan goes out in a t-shirt and jeans.
The sky is grey by five, and by six-thirty the rain is falling hard. Ryan waits for Simon outside the restaurant, and watches raindrops bounce from the sidewalk.
Simon pulls up in a black car with a driver. He opens the door and laughs. "You look dreadful. How many times have you visited now?"
"The weather was good yesterday."
Simon looks at him incredulously. "Yes. And?"
"And this morning, actually. Anyway, do you want to-?"
Simon interrupts him, "You can't possibly think we're still going out. You look like you've been dropped in a lake." He talks over Ryan's protest. "I don't care if you're best friends with Jamie Oliver now - I've eaten in the restaurant before and it's not worth my having to pay to re-carpet the place when you drip all over it. Come back to mine and we can order in."
"We order in all the time."
Simon shrugs. "We eat out all the time too. The only thing we don't do is cook, and that's probably for the best."
"I like the food shows," Ryan says, getting into the car.
"I know you do," Simon says. It's a distracted, placating tone - Ryan’s very familiar with it.
He closes the door behind him and Simon has already got the driver to turn the heat on. They sit on opposite sides, against the doors, with Ryan dripping on the upholstery.
Simon asks, "So. How are you enjoying your vacation?"
Ryan laughs at him. "I liked the last one better. Also, for the hundredth time, this is a business trip."
Simon looks at him pointedly. Ryan shivers, and Simon frowns. "You truly are an idiot." He leans into the front of the car. "How much higher does the heater go?"
There is a blast of warmer air, which only serves to make Ryan jump.
Simon asks, "If I offered you my jacket, you wouldn't take it, would you?"
Ryan considers. "No, probably not."
Simon nods. Clothes-sharing is a particular level of intimacy they've never really indulged. And Ryan has no desire to play prom-date in Simon's too-large suit jacket. He does move a little closer on the seat, where Simon is warmer than the rest of the car.
Ryan knows Simon's place in LA pretty well, but he’s been to this one more than a few times too. Simon throws a towel at Ryan's head when they get inside. It's worryingly domestic, right up until the moment Simon sits on the end of the couch and stares at him.
“What?” Ryan asks.
“Shirt off before you catch something. Jeans too.”
“I’m not just going to sit here naked, Simon.”
“One - I can get you a robe or something if you insist. Two - I wasn’t asking you to just sit there.”
And then he waits in silence, while Ryan pulls off his jeans and t-shirt and leaves them sitting damply on Simon’s floor. Ryan runs the towel over his hair and fights the urge to hide behind the couch.
There’s- He’s not as fragile as all that. If he overreacted every time Simon looked at him the way he looks at contestants - cool, appraising, unmoved - he would get nothing done. He’s been working with Simon for - God - eight years now. Most of the time, Ryan is immune.
But the lights are on, and they’re both sober, and Simon is fully clothed and Ryan mostly naked, skin chilled and hair a mess. At the disadvantage he tries so hard never to at be with Simon.
Simon’s voice is low and deep. “It amazes me, you know.”
“What?”
“The amount of time you put into all this,” He waves his hand up and down to indicate Ryan’s body, “and you have no damn idea how-” Simon walks across the room.
Ryan hums the question at Simon’s chest.
“-how much I want to fuck you right now,” Simon finishes.
“I have some idea,” Ryan says.
“Yes, well, now you can feel it,” Simon says, pressed tight against Ryan’s hip, “that doesn’t count as insight.”
“I’m not exactly at my best right now.” Ryan believes this should be pointed out.
Simon runs his hands down Ryan’s arms, moving him without asking, towards the floor. “You’re here,” Simon says, “and naked. Wet and naked was an unanticipated bonus, true. But then you’re counteracting that by being something of a tease.”
“I’m here,” Ryan says, “in London. Wet and naked and on your floor. What more can you possibly want?”
Simon kneels down between Ryan’s legs, shifting them up. He slides Ryan’s underwear off his hips, and tosses them behind him. His mouth is warm, leaving a trail from Ryan’s stomach down to his cock. Simon uses one hand to hold him still, to stop Ryan thrusting up and choking him. The other hand is working Ryan open, very slowly. “Wait, wait, wait,” Ryan breathes.
Simon stops immediately. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yes. Just. Ready now.”
Simon looks down pointedly.
“Fuck me first. If that doesn’t- You can finish later.”
Simon is laughing until the moment he slides into Ryan and Ryan gasps. Simon’s gaze fixes on him. Appraising, perhaps, but not cool. Not unmoved. Simon slides forward another inch; Ryan exhales shakily. “Go,” he says. “Go on, Si.”
Simon’s hand is against Ryan’s face; his thumb runs against the curve of Ryan’s mouth. He shifts again. His hand strokes down Ryan’s breastbone, following the light line of hair to his stomach.
Ryan pushes up, taking the last that Simon won’t give. He grips onto Simon and drags him into a faster pace. He’s trying to make Simon respond, almost forgotten that he hasn’t actually come yet. His orgasm, when it hits, takes him by surprise with its force. It drags him up against Simon, splashing both of their chests and thighs. Simon rides him through the aftershocks, slower, until he follows Ryan into climax.
Simon lies beside him on the carpet and looks at the ceiling.
After a while, Ryan offers, “I don’t think I’m a tease.”
“Of course not.” Simon finds the long discarded towel and wipes himself clean.
Ryan says, “I need a shower. Before you say anything about me getting wet enough earlier, think very carefully about whether or not you’re going to want sex again this trip.”
Simon smirks. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll call the takeout while you’re gone.” He heads towards the phone and stops. Simon kisses him again, with his hands in the spikes of Ryan’s damp hair. “We can go out tomorrow, if you want. I’ll bring an umbrella.”
FIN