Yay for condoms!
Inspired by this commercial.
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After Ryan narrowly avoids contracting herpes (thankfully, his fondness for giving blowjobs had allowed him to spot the problem before any part of him actually touched it), he decides to have a brainstorming with Spencer to work out some base rules for When Ryan Wants To Have Sex With People. By the end, Ryan even has a little speech prepared. Spencer approves heartily.
------
Ryan tries the speech out in practice.
"But." Brendon runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he searches frantically through the dresser drawers. "I know I had some!"
"No condom, no sex," Ryan repeats, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"But they were right here! They--fuck. Jon must've used the last ones when Cassie came over last weekend," Brendon groans. Brendon is A Gentleman; he always uses condoms! Ryan smirks--his plan is totally working! Go him!
"Um. Ryan," Brendon says as he stumbles into his jeans, "can you hold on for, like, fifteen minutes or so? Because there's a convenience store, like, only a mile away, and they sell condoms, and if I take my bike it shouldn't take very long, and--"
Brendon is cut off by a speed-stripping Ryan tackling him.
Ryan, see, Ryan figures it's the thought that counts.
----
"It's not the thought that counts," Spencer tells him. "You're a skanky skank who's lucky that Brendon is clean."
"But it was so sweet, Spence! So gentlemanly! He was totally going to respect my wishes and run out there and then to get condoms!"
"He wanted to get laid, Ryan."
"But Spence. Chivalry!"
"Ryan, no. On so many levels, no. Look, if you're going to insist on condoms, insist on condoms. You have to be consistant. You have to have standards."
"I have standards."
"Breathing doesn't count."
"...Shut up."
----
"What, you're leaving?" Pete laughs. "Come on, dude." He props himself up on his elbows, framing his tanned, taut torso in the hopes of coaxing Ryan back down onto the bed.
"When it comes to guys who refuse to wear a condom, I have a little speech prepared," Ryan replies sweetly as he yanks his jeans up over his hips, buttoning them up with a decisive hand. "It goes something like this: Look, Guy-I-Almost-Slept-With, I like you. A lot. You're smart/funny/charming and/or good looking, and a minute ago I wanted to do hings to you, the likes of which are usually reserved for fantasies and dirty magazines, but when it comes to having sex I have but one rule. Just one." Ryan pulls a condom from the back pocket of his jeans. "You gotta use a ticket," he says, waving the packet. "If you wanna ride the ride. In addition to that aching sensation you're probably feeling in your shorts right now--" Ryan flicks a meaningful gaze at Pete's tenting boxers as he buckles his belt. "--I'm going to leave you with one final question that will undoubtedly haunt you for a very long time: did you honestly think that wearing a think layer of well-lubricated latex between our hot, sweaty, pulsing bodies--"
Pete stifles a moan, unconsciously moving a hand to his dick. Ryan pulls his shirt over his head.
"--would be better than spending the morning/afternoon/night alone? Sadly, Guy-I-Almost-Slept-With, you will never, ever have the pleasure of finding out for sure." Ryan smoothes a hand down his chest, removing the wrinkles from his shirt. He flashes Pete a quick grin and turns around, strolling out the door and down the hall. "See you in class, Pete! Oh, and thanks for the pizza," he adds on his way out.
"Wha-- Wait. Wait!" Pete scrambles up. "Ryan!" He runs out into the hallway, still sporting his boxer-clad erection. "You win, you win!!"
-------------------
This may or may not end up being part of a high school AU.
-----
After Ryan narrowly avoids contracting herpes (thankfully, his fondness for giving blowjobs had allowed him to spot the problem before any part of him actually touched it), he decides to have a brainstorming with Spencer to work out some base rules for When Ryan Wants To Have Sex With People. By the end, Ryan even has a little speech prepared. Spencer approves heartily.
------
Ryan tries the speech out in practice.
"But." Brendon runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he searches frantically through the dresser drawers. "I know I had some!"
"No condom, no sex," Ryan repeats, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"But they were right here! They--fuck. Jon must've used the last ones when Cassie came over last weekend," Brendon groans. Brendon is A Gentleman; he always uses condoms! Ryan smirks--his plan is totally working! Go him!
"Um. Ryan," Brendon says as he stumbles into his jeans, "can you hold on for, like, fifteen minutes or so? Because there's a convenience store, like, only a mile away, and they sell condoms, and if I take my bike it shouldn't take very long, and--"
Brendon is cut off by a speed-stripping Ryan tackling him.
Ryan, see, Ryan figures it's the thought that counts.
----
"It's not the thought that counts," Spencer tells him. "You're a skanky skank who's lucky that Brendon is clean."
"But it was so sweet, Spence! So gentlemanly! He was totally going to respect my wishes and run out there and then to get condoms!"
"He wanted to get laid, Ryan."
"But Spence. Chivalry!"
"Ryan, no. On so many levels, no. Look, if you're going to insist on condoms, insist on condoms. You have to be consistant. You have to have standards."
"I have standards."
"Breathing doesn't count."
"...Shut up."
----
"What, you're leaving?" Pete laughs. "Come on, dude." He props himself up on his elbows, framing his tanned, taut torso in the hopes of coaxing Ryan back down onto the bed.
"When it comes to guys who refuse to wear a condom, I have a little speech prepared," Ryan replies sweetly as he yanks his jeans up over his hips, buttoning them up with a decisive hand. "It goes something like this: Look, Guy-I-Almost-Slept-With, I like you. A lot. You're smart/funny/charming and/or good looking, and a minute ago I wanted to do hings to you, the likes of which are usually reserved for fantasies and dirty magazines, but when it comes to having sex I have but one rule. Just one." Ryan pulls a condom from the back pocket of his jeans. "You gotta use a ticket," he says, waving the packet. "If you wanna ride the ride. In addition to that aching sensation you're probably feeling in your shorts right now--" Ryan flicks a meaningful gaze at Pete's tenting boxers as he buckles his belt. "--I'm going to leave you with one final question that will undoubtedly haunt you for a very long time: did you honestly think that wearing a think layer of well-lubricated latex between our hot, sweaty, pulsing bodies--"
Pete stifles a moan, unconsciously moving a hand to his dick. Ryan pulls his shirt over his head.
"--would be better than spending the morning/afternoon/night alone? Sadly, Guy-I-Almost-Slept-With, you will never, ever have the pleasure of finding out for sure." Ryan smoothes a hand down his chest, removing the wrinkles from his shirt. He flashes Pete a quick grin and turns around, strolling out the door and down the hall. "See you in class, Pete! Oh, and thanks for the pizza," he adds on his way out.
"Wha-- Wait. Wait!" Pete scrambles up. "Ryan!" He runs out into the hallway, still sporting his boxer-clad erection. "You win, you win!!"
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This may or may not end up being part of a high school AU.