Summer in the City [FAKE, Dee/Ryo, M]
Title: Summer in the City
Author: sumthinlikhuman
Pairing: Dee/Ryo
Rating: M
Warnings: vague sex on a subway, swearing
Prompt: FAKE, Dee/Ryo; sex on the subway - Inadvertent grinding on a crowded train gets progressively hotter as the train starts to empty.
Summary: It’s been six days.
Notes: OMG, IT’S LATE. I was trying so hard to get this thing just right, but then I went to bed and totally forgot that it wasn’t done and that I hadn’t posted it. ^_^U But, here it is. In all it’s weirdness.
It’s only been six days, but it feels like a year, as far as Dee’s concerned. He’s got a song going through his head, just a part of it, that drives home his forced abstinence and the overwhelming, disgusting heat that’s taken over the streets even into the breakneck nights. And finally, finally it’s quitting time and from the way Ryo’s been shooting him these underhanded, heated, sexy little looks since the case broke, Dee knows full well that he is getting lucky tonight.
He grabs his coat-doesn’t even know why he’s bringing it with him to work when it’s practically boiling everywhere in the damn building, even with the air conditioning on-and slings it over an arm, and holds the door open for Ryo. Ryo, the jerk, makes a point to be a little too close and brush against Dee as he passes. A few people look up when Ryo laughs at Dee swearing profusely.
It’s a lot of that all the way down into the underground, where it is an almost blessedly acceptable temperature. Ryo checks his watch every few seconds, and Dee hums what he can remember of the song stuck in his head as he wonders if they have any wine at the apartment or whether it’s just water and beer and Bicky’s soda. There are too many people on the platform for Dee to bother trying to get Ryo to fool around with him a little bit now, not enough for there to be an excuse to press up against Ryo and fool around a little bit anyway, despite the crowd. He lingers within arm’s reach and tries very hard not to be obvious about wanting to jump his partner.
The train arrives, and Dee chuckles as Ryo grumbles, “It’s late.” They get on, practically in each other’s footsteps, and cram their ways into a back corner of the train, one of the few almost-empty spots, pressed almost chest to chest. Ryo makes a big show of being used to big cities and packed trains and manages to invade three different people’s spaces without ever seeming like it-Dee makes a point to invade Ryo’s space right back, and keeps humming to himself.
The train jostles and rattles and Dee has to bite his lip as his hips bump against Ryo’s. Ryo lets out a quiet little breathy noise, adjusts his hold on the handrail, and doesn’t even blush besides. Nobody looks around or notices anything. And Dee feels absolutely wicked, and he knows Ryo can see it in his eyes. Can see the objections and the hissed warnings and the promise of six weeks next time, if Dee tries anything in a packed subway car.
But the train jostles again, and Ryo’s eyelids flicker a little when Dee touches his waist to steady himself. There’s no fighting it, and Dee tries to keep the smugness out of his smile.
By the first stop after they got on, Dee has himself pressed tightly into Ryo’s body-not too obtrusively, the car really is packed almost like a pickle jar, and so nobody notices his thumb rubbing Ryo’s hipbone through his shirt. Ryo adjusts his hold on the handrail again, won’t look at Dee directly but keeps slipping him these shy little glances. The train jostles, bounces along, and Dee tries to keep from panting like a pervert into Ryo’s ear.
“If you try anything,” Ryo hisses, but his eyes say something else entirely, say Try something. Go on.
Dee smiles as reassuringly as he can. His fingers are still tangled into the soft, slightly damp cotton on Ryo’s shirt. “It’s just the train moving. I’m not doing anything,” he mutters back, looking around Ryo’s head at the unsuspecting bystanders as the train takes a turn and Ryo steadies himself by sliding his leg between Dee’s.
“Anything, Dee,” Ryo mumbles, but it sounds much more fake, especially considering how wide Ryo’s pupils are, how glossy his parted lips look in the horrid lights on the train.
The second stop excuses enough passengers from their car that there’s no need to be pressed quite so tightly, but still nobody’s looking. And Ryo’s leg is still pressed up between Dee’s, and Dee’s hand is still slowly untucking Ryo’s shirt from his pants. Ryo’s breath is starting to come in soft little puffs against Dee’s neck. The train lurches from the stop, shifts, pulls away, rocks them against each other.
“Shh,” Dee whispers against Ryo’s forehead. He can feel everything, blinding white in his sense of touch, driving him almost insane. Six days. He hums against Ryo’s forehead until the next stop. Three down from theirs. The car is empty except for them and a man with a seeing-eye dog.
Dee swings around to sit in the seat in front of Ryo. He fingers Ryo’s belt, startling when Ryo slaps his hands and glares at him.
“What?” Ryo just nods pointedly toward the blind man, who happens to have headphones on, and the dog who is staring at them with its head cocked slightly to the side. Dee grins up at Ryo. “Don’t worry about it. Just be quiet.”
“I hate you,” Ryo whines unconvincingly, especially since his hands descend onto Dee’s hair and neck and then he’s sliding down to straddle Dee’s thighs on the train bench.
The fourth stop, two down from theirs. Dee watches over Ryo’s shoulder as the seeing-eye dog bumps its owner’s leg and they both get up and vacate the train, watches a bemused set of school girls get detoured by their glowering older brother, watches six other people avoid their car, and that is just fine by Dee’s stance. Ryo is taking big, deep breaths that don’t seem to be calming him in the least; his hips are rotating slowly against Dee’s.
The doors shut. The train jostles. Dee undoes Ryo’s belt and sticks his hands down the back of Ryo’s slacks. Ryo makes a soft, breathy little sound, burrowing against Dee’s neck.
“When I’m done,” Dee whispers, fooling around enough in Ryo’s pants that Ryo’s almost incoherent-blown pupils, parted lips, deep flushed cheeks, the works-“you’re gonna stand up and grab the handrail. And I’m gonna fuck you.”
“No,” Ryo mutters. “No, no, no-.” He gasps and writhes and presses back against Dee’s fingers. Dee palms him through the front of his slacks.
He leers, “Six days, Ryo.”
“You can go a few more minutes,” Ryo pants. His neck is arched, his eyes unseeing now. Dee bites him gently on the throat, feels the vibration of Ryo’s moan against his tongue and moans right back.
“Just this once,” Dee says against Ryo’s skin, and Ryo shivers. They both know it’s never just this once. Something in them doesn’t care.
When Dee pats him lightly on the hip, Ryo totters to his feet, holding his belt. The door is just shutting, the stop before theirs disappearing behind them as the train jostles just right and Dee can feel himself sinking, sinking, sinking.
Ryo groans, grips the handrail for a minute, then, in a fit of-Dee doesn’t even know what, he slams his open palm against the handrail and, panting, screams, “Fuck!”
“That’s right baby,” Dee whispers against the back of Ryo’s neck. He grips Ryo’s hips and pistons into him, a little too rough, not quite right. Ryo’ll be mad when they get back to the apartment, but it’s been six days and Dee does not care. “Fuck, baby. Yeah. Feels good, right?”
“God, yes,” Ryo whispers breathlessly into the space above his head. He’s tight. He’s tight and hot and perfect and Dee hums nonsense against the back of Ryo’s neck as his vision goes dark around the edges and he, and, and, and.
Ryo tidies him up, tucking him back in just as the door opens for their stop. He’s blushing as he passes all those people, tottering a little, Dee hurrying after him to grab his hand and hurry them back to the apartment.
On the street, where the heat hangs on and cradles around them far too intimately for over-sensitized skin, Ryo glares at Dee and says, “You can’t honestly be expecting to get any more tonight.”
Author: sumthinlikhuman
Pairing: Dee/Ryo
Rating: M
Warnings: vague sex on a subway, swearing
Prompt: FAKE, Dee/Ryo; sex on the subway - Inadvertent grinding on a crowded train gets progressively hotter as the train starts to empty.
Summary: It’s been six days.
Notes: OMG, IT’S LATE. I was trying so hard to get this thing just right, but then I went to bed and totally forgot that it wasn’t done and that I hadn’t posted it. ^_^U But, here it is. In all it’s weirdness.
It’s only been six days, but it feels like a year, as far as Dee’s concerned. He’s got a song going through his head, just a part of it, that drives home his forced abstinence and the overwhelming, disgusting heat that’s taken over the streets even into the breakneck nights. And finally, finally it’s quitting time and from the way Ryo’s been shooting him these underhanded, heated, sexy little looks since the case broke, Dee knows full well that he is getting lucky tonight.
He grabs his coat-doesn’t even know why he’s bringing it with him to work when it’s practically boiling everywhere in the damn building, even with the air conditioning on-and slings it over an arm, and holds the door open for Ryo. Ryo, the jerk, makes a point to be a little too close and brush against Dee as he passes. A few people look up when Ryo laughs at Dee swearing profusely.
It’s a lot of that all the way down into the underground, where it is an almost blessedly acceptable temperature. Ryo checks his watch every few seconds, and Dee hums what he can remember of the song stuck in his head as he wonders if they have any wine at the apartment or whether it’s just water and beer and Bicky’s soda. There are too many people on the platform for Dee to bother trying to get Ryo to fool around with him a little bit now, not enough for there to be an excuse to press up against Ryo and fool around a little bit anyway, despite the crowd. He lingers within arm’s reach and tries very hard not to be obvious about wanting to jump his partner.
The train arrives, and Dee chuckles as Ryo grumbles, “It’s late.” They get on, practically in each other’s footsteps, and cram their ways into a back corner of the train, one of the few almost-empty spots, pressed almost chest to chest. Ryo makes a big show of being used to big cities and packed trains and manages to invade three different people’s spaces without ever seeming like it-Dee makes a point to invade Ryo’s space right back, and keeps humming to himself.
The train jostles and rattles and Dee has to bite his lip as his hips bump against Ryo’s. Ryo lets out a quiet little breathy noise, adjusts his hold on the handrail, and doesn’t even blush besides. Nobody looks around or notices anything. And Dee feels absolutely wicked, and he knows Ryo can see it in his eyes. Can see the objections and the hissed warnings and the promise of six weeks next time, if Dee tries anything in a packed subway car.
But the train jostles again, and Ryo’s eyelids flicker a little when Dee touches his waist to steady himself. There’s no fighting it, and Dee tries to keep the smugness out of his smile.
By the first stop after they got on, Dee has himself pressed tightly into Ryo’s body-not too obtrusively, the car really is packed almost like a pickle jar, and so nobody notices his thumb rubbing Ryo’s hipbone through his shirt. Ryo adjusts his hold on the handrail again, won’t look at Dee directly but keeps slipping him these shy little glances. The train jostles, bounces along, and Dee tries to keep from panting like a pervert into Ryo’s ear.
“If you try anything,” Ryo hisses, but his eyes say something else entirely, say Try something. Go on.
Dee smiles as reassuringly as he can. His fingers are still tangled into the soft, slightly damp cotton on Ryo’s shirt. “It’s just the train moving. I’m not doing anything,” he mutters back, looking around Ryo’s head at the unsuspecting bystanders as the train takes a turn and Ryo steadies himself by sliding his leg between Dee’s.
“Anything, Dee,” Ryo mumbles, but it sounds much more fake, especially considering how wide Ryo’s pupils are, how glossy his parted lips look in the horrid lights on the train.
The second stop excuses enough passengers from their car that there’s no need to be pressed quite so tightly, but still nobody’s looking. And Ryo’s leg is still pressed up between Dee’s, and Dee’s hand is still slowly untucking Ryo’s shirt from his pants. Ryo’s breath is starting to come in soft little puffs against Dee’s neck. The train lurches from the stop, shifts, pulls away, rocks them against each other.
“Shh,” Dee whispers against Ryo’s forehead. He can feel everything, blinding white in his sense of touch, driving him almost insane. Six days. He hums against Ryo’s forehead until the next stop. Three down from theirs. The car is empty except for them and a man with a seeing-eye dog.
Dee swings around to sit in the seat in front of Ryo. He fingers Ryo’s belt, startling when Ryo slaps his hands and glares at him.
“What?” Ryo just nods pointedly toward the blind man, who happens to have headphones on, and the dog who is staring at them with its head cocked slightly to the side. Dee grins up at Ryo. “Don’t worry about it. Just be quiet.”
“I hate you,” Ryo whines unconvincingly, especially since his hands descend onto Dee’s hair and neck and then he’s sliding down to straddle Dee’s thighs on the train bench.
The fourth stop, two down from theirs. Dee watches over Ryo’s shoulder as the seeing-eye dog bumps its owner’s leg and they both get up and vacate the train, watches a bemused set of school girls get detoured by their glowering older brother, watches six other people avoid their car, and that is just fine by Dee’s stance. Ryo is taking big, deep breaths that don’t seem to be calming him in the least; his hips are rotating slowly against Dee’s.
The doors shut. The train jostles. Dee undoes Ryo’s belt and sticks his hands down the back of Ryo’s slacks. Ryo makes a soft, breathy little sound, burrowing against Dee’s neck.
“When I’m done,” Dee whispers, fooling around enough in Ryo’s pants that Ryo’s almost incoherent-blown pupils, parted lips, deep flushed cheeks, the works-“you’re gonna stand up and grab the handrail. And I’m gonna fuck you.”
“No,” Ryo mutters. “No, no, no-.” He gasps and writhes and presses back against Dee’s fingers. Dee palms him through the front of his slacks.
He leers, “Six days, Ryo.”
“You can go a few more minutes,” Ryo pants. His neck is arched, his eyes unseeing now. Dee bites him gently on the throat, feels the vibration of Ryo’s moan against his tongue and moans right back.
“Just this once,” Dee says against Ryo’s skin, and Ryo shivers. They both know it’s never just this once. Something in them doesn’t care.
When Dee pats him lightly on the hip, Ryo totters to his feet, holding his belt. The door is just shutting, the stop before theirs disappearing behind them as the train jostles just right and Dee can feel himself sinking, sinking, sinking.
Ryo groans, grips the handrail for a minute, then, in a fit of-Dee doesn’t even know what, he slams his open palm against the handrail and, panting, screams, “Fuck!”
“That’s right baby,” Dee whispers against the back of Ryo’s neck. He grips Ryo’s hips and pistons into him, a little too rough, not quite right. Ryo’ll be mad when they get back to the apartment, but it’s been six days and Dee does not care. “Fuck, baby. Yeah. Feels good, right?”
“God, yes,” Ryo whispers breathlessly into the space above his head. He’s tight. He’s tight and hot and perfect and Dee hums nonsense against the back of Ryo’s neck as his vision goes dark around the edges and he, and, and, and.
Ryo tidies him up, tucking him back in just as the door opens for their stop. He’s blushing as he passes all those people, tottering a little, Dee hurrying after him to grab his hand and hurry them back to the apartment.
On the street, where the heat hangs on and cradles around them far too intimately for over-sensitized skin, Ryo glares at Dee and says, “You can’t honestly be expecting to get any more tonight.”