Fic Repost: Werewolf!Jon and Ryan, NC-17
Jon likes this, being able to rub his face under Ryan's arm and know that Ryan doesn't mind, makes soft approving noises. They're laying together naked when Spencer and Brendon are out getting coffee, and Jon keeps butting his head against Ryan's, and Ryan grins and butts Jon back, except he turns his head and shows Jon his throat.
There's nothing particularly sexy about it, except that it's Ryan's neck. Jon thinks that, but part of him is alert suddenly, alert with wide eyes and he can't help but lean in and skim his teeth along Ryan's skin, tasting him. He can smell when Ryan goes from relaxed and happy to turned-on. Then he knows Ryan can smell when Jon gets turned on by the way Ryan smells, the way he is biting his lip and making these wonderful growling sounds just from Jon biting his skin, marking him.
The part of him that's still new and foreign has a surge of something. It feels like mineminemine, the way Jon's used to feeling about all the guys, like when Brendon gives him that big smile right before they kiss or when Spencer wrinkles his nose and squints in sunlight, but it's more carnal than that. He's kissing Ryan suddenly, kissing him with too much teeth and pushing Ryan down onto the bed.
Ryan loves rough sex, has always loved rough sex, so he's not surprised when Ryan responds, kissing back eagerly and scratching at Jon's arms and back. He's surprised at the bed rocks and squeaks. They're just kissing, not even rubbing against each other.
"On the floor," Ryan says, gasping when he pulls away from Jon. "On the floor or we'll break the bed."
"No, we won't," Jon says, and he kisses Ryan again, harder this time. Ryan bites down hard at Jon's lip, too hard, and Jon's mouth is bleeding into Ryan's.
He thinks maybe Ryan expects him to pull away, because--hey, his mouth is bleeding--but it tastes good. He can taste it in Ryan's mouth before he gets Ryan's lips to bleed too, and that's even better than Jon's own blood. Ryan doesn't even mind, just groans into the kiss, pushing up against Jon so his cock rubs against Jon's stomach, already hard and flushed hot. He wonders if this is what Ryan always wanted when he would come back from running the forest and ask for them to touch him, to hold him down and make it as rough as they could.
Ryan's nails feel sharp in Jon's skin now, not dull like they should be, and he loves it. He wonders if they're bleeding, if Ryan will lick the wounds clean. He wants that, wants Ryan's mouth on his skin.
He wants that, but not just now. Now he wants something more. It's like waking after the first change all over again, every nerve on edge and all of them screaming for Ryan, to be closer to him, to breathe in the weird earthy smell of him. Now, though, now the urge is driven on by that need for Ryan that feels different than mine and scarier when he tries to put a name on it.
The bed creaks when Jon pushes down against Ryan, pinning his wrists to the bed. "Want you," he says, and his voice isn't his anymore. It's growling and low, and he wants Ryan, wants to taste Ryan's blood again and knows that Ryan is his. He ducks his head to bite at the pale skin on Ryan's neck, where he can see the veins.
Ryan smells like home, like tobacco and weed and the weird soap he buys in bulk from Hawaii, like something Jon has to have and can't let go. Something in his brain clicks over, thinks pack and safety and mate, and he's desperate for Ryan suddenly, kissing him again. "Ryan," he gasps out, and he should be afraid of it, the way his brain keeps chanting pack-safety-mate, but it feels good, feels right.
"Sh, sh," Ryan says. He has to wrench his wrists away from Jon, and he hisses a little in pain. That shouldn't make Jon want him more, rock down on the bed hard enough that one of the slats breaks under the boxspring, bite at his throat again. He has a thought that he could tear out Ryan's throat, tear it out and taste that blood again, so much of more of it than he could taste in Ryan's mouth.
Jon hides his face in Ryan's neck, bites at his own mouth to keep himself from doing that. "I want to hurt you," he says, and he shouldn't still be rocking his hips against Ryan's, trying to get just the right friction.
"It's okay, Jon," Ryan whispers, and he strokes Jon's hair, soft and careful. "It's okay." He fingers along the mattress and the wall, where they keep a bottle of lube or so shoved down.
He kisses Ryan's chest, his hand on Ryan's belly now, where he knows the skin is softest, where he wouldn't have to fight through bone to taste. He hates that he's still wants to do this. "I want to eat you," he says against Ryan's skin, over his heart.
That makes Ryan chuckle a little, and he threads his hand back into Jon's hair. "I know," he says, and he just sounds amused, not grossed out. "This is why it's just us now."
Jon keeps kissing Ryan's chest, biting too hard at Ryan's nipples to make him gasp. Lower, lower, his brain says, wants that to bite the skin about Ryan's belly-button and pull. "I could hurt you," he says. He feels desperate.
"I'll live," Ryan says, and his legs are spread a little, slick sounds of Ryan getting himself open. "Concentrate on what I smell like, not on what you can do to me."
Jon rests his forehead on Ryan's collar bone and breathes, tries to block out the rapid beat of Ryan's heard. He tries to concentrate on the idea of pack that's in his brain now, that Ryan is safe and home and his. It's hard through. Ryan's skin is soft, and Jon can still taste Ryan's blood in his mouth.
"Concentrate on how much I want you, Jon," Ryan says, gasping when he twists his arm, and yeah, okay, Jon can smell that. It's clinging everywhere on Ryan, like some sort of blanket hovering just above Ryan's skin. He breathes it in, and the idea of eating Ryan is replaced with the want-need again.
"Okay," he says. He wants Ryan, wants to fuck Ryan because Ryan is his. It feels like it's wired into his skin, that Ryan is just his, that Ryan shouldn't smell like Brendon and Spencer like he does because they aren't part of this. He doesn't want Ryan's skin to smell like any one else but him. "Okay," he says again.
"Good," Ryan whispers before he reaches down for Jon's dick with slick fingers. Jon should say something about condoms, but Ryan's fingers are around him and then Ryan's turning over under him, and Jon can't describe the pressure that's building in his chest, the way he looks down at Ryan's pale back, with Ryan looking over his shoulder at Jon.
He can see Ryan's eyes, the way they've bled yellow-grey. He doesn't say anything, already up on his hands and knees, but he spread his legs a little wider. It's all the invitation Jon needs before he's gripping tight at Ryan's hip and pushing inside of Ryan. Ryan's tight but slick, and he's graceless about it, pushing all the way in on the first go and not giving Ryan time to adjust before he's fucking him without a rhythm, without steadiness.
Ryan groans though, head against his hands, and he doesn't seem pissed about, smells like the forest suddenly, like dew and grass, and the constant want, the intoxicating smell that comes off Brendon, Spencer, and Ryan, but it's so much stronger in Ryan, stronger now, that he can't ignore it, rubs his face in sweat that's starting between Ryan's shoulder blades.
The bed is creaking terribly, and he can hear the wood starting to splinter. He doesn't care, pushing into Ryan as hard as he can, strokes angled deep and Ryan rocking back to meet him almost every time. "I don't think I can--" he says, before he groans, eyes fluttering shut. He needs to kiss the curve of Ryan's neck into his shoulder, but he's biting it instead, teeth sinking into the meat of his skin.
The sound Ryan makes is worth it, crying out, with his forehead against the bed. He's coming. Jon can smell it, on the bed and Ryan's stomach, and that combined with the way Ryan's clenching tight, the way Ryan's skin is starting to give under his teeth, Ryan's blood in his mouth again, drives Jon over the edge. He comes with his hips flush against Ryan's ass, and if he was thinking of anything but the smell of this, the sound of Ryan's blood rushing and heart beating, the taste of Ryan, he might be able to concentrate on how it feels to be fucking Ryan without a condom for the first time. It seems trivial and silly, human.
That makes him pull out and push away from Ryan. He licks his lips, and the fact that he did that makes him want to throw up. "Ryan," he says, and he starts to apologize, apologize for the bruised look to Ryan's mouth and the way his neck and shoulder at bleeding all over the bed.
Ryan smiles, though, kisses Jon sweetly and shakes his head. "It's always like this, the first time. It's why it had to be me." Ryan pushes Jon against the bed, straddling him. His eyes are still wolfish, but he's wrinkling his nose when he touches the wound on his shoulder, running his fingers through the blood. "There's nothing you could do to me that would kill me," he says before he sucks on his thumb, licking the blood away. "I think."
He offers Jon his fingers, and Jon wants to take them into the mouth and run his tongue along them, taste Ryan still when it's all he can taste. "But I wanted to eat you," he whispers.
"And you controlled it," Ryan says softly as his eyes bleed back to normal. "Which means you can learn to control yourself. We can work on foreplay." He presses his fingers to Jon's lips. "It's easier if you give into little things, too, and save your control for the big things."
Jon nods before he opens his mouth and sucks Ryan's first two fingers inside.