fic: why don't we do it in the road, jon/ryan, nc17
Title: Why Don't We Do It In The Road
Authors: stephanometra and untappedbeauty
Pairing: Jon/Ryan
Rating: NC17
Summary: "I'm not sure you have the discipline to keep your eyes on the road. What do you think?"
Warnings: Van porn. We're not sorry.
Notes: SEE, SOMETIMES I GET THINGS I WANT. 4300 words.
***
When Jon told Spencer that he and Ryan and Alex were going out in a van on their first tour, Spencer basically laughed him off the phone.
At the time, Jon thought that Spencer was just mocking them for slumming it.
Now, he knows better.
"Are we there yet?" Ryan asks, slumped in the passenger seat, huddled in a blanket against the nighttime chill. Wuss.
"Does it fucking look like we're there yet?" Jon asks, giving him an irritated look. It's been thirty miles since the last town, sixteen since the last gas station, and the desert spreads out in front of them, silent and solemn and beautiful. Jon would really enjoy this drive if it weren't for the overgrown child riding shotgun. It never occurred to Jon that Ryan would have problems keeping himself entertained on the road, but now that he thinks about it-and he's had more than enough time to think about it, lately-all of Ryan's usual activities on the bus are things that the close quarters and shitty suspension of the van render difficult at best.
That didn't stop him from trying, but of course it was a disaster. Bong water everywhere. It wasn't pretty. And Ryan says that writing in the van is impossible, because the bumps render his handwriting illegible and staring at his laptop screen makes him nauseated.
Which leaves annoying the rest of them as his sole occupation.
And with Kate and Eric and Alex all asleep in the back, that means that Jon is the only one left to annoy.
"I hate the desert," Ryan says for maybe the fiftieth time since they crossed the border into Arizona.
"Yes, Ryan, I know," Jon says with a lot more patience than he actually feels. "We all know precisely how much you hate the desert."
"We should have gone to Vegas first."
"You would still hate the desert if we were on the 15, Ross."
Ryan makes a face. "Shut up."
No, you, Jon thinks. He turns the radio up a fraction of a decibel and says nothing; Ryan fails to take the hint.
"There are so many better things we could be doing than driving through the desert," he complains.
Now, that-that, Jon wholeheartedly agrees with. "Unfortunately, we have to drive through the desert in order to do them."
"Not necessarily," Ryan says.
"Oh, really," Jon says, not even bothering to feign interest; Ryan will keep talking whether Jon is interested or not.
"Well, yeah." Ryan looks pensively out his window. "We wouldn't have to wait until we got to Phoenix for you to fuck me."
Jon's jaw drops open, and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "Um," he says eloquently.
"Blowjobs are out, too," Ryan continues. "You can't blow me for obvious reasons, and I can't exactly suck you off right now. I'd either get a concussion from knocking my head against the steering wheel every time we hit a pothole, or you'd try to grab my hair like you always do when I'm going down on you, and you'd crash the van and we'd all die." After a pause he says, "I mean, my head's good, but it's not worth dying for."
Ryan says it all casually, like he's talking about the weather or where they should stop to eat. He doesn't bother to lower his voice or look back and make sure the others haven't woken up, but Jon does, darting a quick glance in the rear-view mirror. Alex is drooling a little on Kate's shirt and Eric's face is smushed against the window, so they should be safe.
"I could give you a handjob," Ryan says, and he finally looks away from the window, rolling his head to the side on the headrest and grinning at Jon crookedly.
Jon swallows hard and considers how that would work. Could he keep driving while Ryan jerked him off? Maybe. It might be worth it to find out.
"But," Ryan says sadly, "that wouldn't do much for me. I'd be hard and you wouldn't be able to help me get off. I could always jerk off with your come on my fingers, but I don't know. I'm not sure you have the discipline to keep your eyes on the road. What do you think?"
"Um," Jon says again. He's not sure he has the discipline to keep his eyes on the road right now, and that's just because Ryan's smiling a small, private smile, eyes bright and daring. "We could always try?"
Ryan laughs, easy and open, and Kate shifts in back. Jon's heart leaps, but Kate's eyes stay closed.
"We could," Ryan agrees, then hums a little before he asks. "Are you hard right now? I think I could get there pretty fast if I just..." He trails off, and Jon sees it out of the corner of his eye when Ryan drops a hand down, cupping himself and rubbing over his cock.
"I'm trying to drive," Jon says helplessly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ryan strokes himself hard through his pants, and fuck, that's the worst thing about Ryan making the permanent switch from jeans to slacks, because even in the dim light Jon can clearly see every inch of Ryan's cock through the fabric. It's almost worse than if he were naked.
Thinking about Ryan being naked in the passenger seat is enough to make Jon swerve to avoid driving off the road.
He looks at Ryan-at his face this time, not his crotch-and finds that Ryan is giving him an insufferable smile.
"See something you like?" Ryan asks, arching his hips a little.
Jon flicks his gaze down to Ryan's crotch again. "You're not wearing your seatbelt," he observes.
Ryan blinks in surprise. "Yeah, thanks, Mom," he finally says, rolling his eyes.
"Never call me that again," Jon says as he pulls off onto the shoulder.
"I could call you other things," Ryan says, grinning in triumph.
"Whatever." Checking first to make sure the dome lights are off, Jon swings open his door and then reaches back into the car to catch Ryan's hand and drag him across the seat, out of the van. Ryan lets him, and then makes a soft, pleased sound when Jon leans up on his toes for a hard, possessive kiss. "You'd better have everything we need," Jon says.
"Or what?" Ryan says, still smiling smugly, leaning back against the open driver's-side door.
"Either I fuck you dry, or we wake everyone else up digging around for the lube."
Ryan shudders. "Would you still-"
"Hmm," Jon says, crowding Ryan against the door, rasping his tongue against the stubble on the underside of Ryan's jaw. "Is that what you want, Ryan? Want them to see how much you want it?"
"Fuck," Ryan bites out, clutching at Jon's back to pull him closer, the hot line of his cock digging into Jon's belly. "I-jacket pocket."
In Ryan's jacket pocket are a half-empty bottle of lube and a couple of condoms. Jon arches an eyebrow. "Prepared, aren't we?" he asks.
"Not yet," Ryan says breathlessly, bending his head for another kiss. "But you're kind of a sure thing."
"Cocky," Jon says into Ryan's mouth, and then he smacks Ryan's hip when he feels Ryan's smirk against his lips.
"Just how you like me," Ryan murmurs, and Jon kisses him quiet. The only sounds are the tick-tick-tick of the engine cooling, the wind, and their mouths and bodies moving together. There are no cars whizzing by, not yet. The road's been mostly quiet, but Jon can't count on it staying that way. There may not be any streetlights on this stretch of road, but they'd be visible in the headlights of anyone driving by.
Jon pulls back, but he has to press one last kiss to Ryan's mouth when Ryan cranes his neck forward, trying to follow. "Other side," Jon says, "away from the road."
He tugs Ryan's hand, and Ryan follows readily. Jon presses him back against the passenger-side door and starts opening Ryan's belt, fumbling because of the darkness and the way Ryan keeps trying to push his hips forward. But eventually Jon gets Ryan's pants open, and they're dragged down by the weight of his belt, pooling around his calves.
"This is hot, right?" Ryan says. "I've never had sex like this before, outside on the side of the road." He sounds breathless and excited, and his hands are flexing on Jon's waist, then sliding up his back and down again, restless but somehow comforting.
"Totally hot," Jon agrees, and drops to his knees. He pulls Ryan's underwear down to join his trousers, then grabs Ryan's cock and takes him into his mouth. Ryan's hands scrabble against the side of the van before one hand latches onto the door handle and the other one lands on Jon's shoulder. It tightens when Jon starts sucking and bobbing on Ryan's cock, rubbing a finger behind his balls.
"Fuck," Ryan says quietly, and Jon pulls off of Ryan's dick and strokes it a few times, lazy, so he can grin up at Ryan smugly before he reaches for the lube.
"Turn around," he tells Ryan, and Ryan does it, shuffling awkwardly because of his pants shackling his ankles. Jon spreads Ryan open with one thumb and can't resist: he licks up the cleft of Ryan's ass and rubs his tongue over Ryan's hole just so he can hear Ryan moan quietly and watch him try to spread his legs. He starts pushing in with one slick finger before Ryan's moan has even died.
"God, you're fucking tight," Jon says, grazing his teeth over the curve of Ryan's ass, giving him just enough time to adjust to one finger before coming back with two.
Ryan makes no reply other than another soft moan, pressing his forehead against the window. Jon teases his thumb over Ryan's rim, right where he's stretched tight around Jon's fingers, and bites down on the flesh of Ryan's ass.
"Quiet," he says, muffling the sound against Ryan's skin. "You'll wake them up."
"They won't hear," Ryan says breathlessly, trailing off into another moan when Jon twists his fingers to stroke over his prostate.
Jon snorts. "If I gag you, maybe," he says, and he doesn't miss Ryan's full-body shudder at the idea, can't miss it, because he's feeling it from the inside, fuck. But it's not like he carries a gag on him all the time, or anything; he'll have to settle for shutting Ryan up with his mouth in order to keep him from waking up the others.
"Turn around again," he says, sliding his fingers free, and Ryan makes a disappointed sound but obeys, almost tripping over his feet this time. As soon as Ryan's back is to the van again, Jon bends down and struggles to untie the knotted-up laces of one of Ryan's stupid Italian designer shoes that he has no reason to be wearing when they're traveling anyway. "You and your dumb shoes, Ryan, I swear to God."
"They're not dumb," Ryan protests. He wiggles his foot free and steps out of his pants as soon as Jon has his shoelaces loose enough, and he shifts his weight so he can throw his leg over Jon's shoulder, rubbing up and down his back with one socked heel in clear demand of something. Jon isn't sure that Ryan even cares what the something is at this point.
"All shoes are dumb," Jon says, rocking back onto his heels and then standing up, catching Ryan's leg in the crook of his elbow so that when he leans up to capture Ryan's mouth in another kiss, he's holding Ryan wide open and vulnerable to the scrape of Jon's jeans over his cock, his ass.
Ryan hisses at the contact, the muscles in his stretched thigh spasming. "Hurry," he whimpers against Jon's mouth.
"What, and reduce our risk of getting caught?" Jon says, smiling into the next kiss as Ryan shivers again, and not from the chill of being half-naked in the middle of the desert at night. But he's already thumbing open the button on his jeans, biting his lip when Ryan reaches down eagerly to get them pushed down his hips.
Ryan doesn't bother with more than that, just gets Jon's jeans and underwear down far enough to free his cock. He sheds his jacket and then shoves Jon's t-shirt up so he can stroke Jon's hips and belly impatiently while Jon rolls on the condom. As soon as Jon's done, Ryan grabs his dick, stroking Jon a couple of times before Ryan says, "You're gonna have to hold me up for this to work. And come closer," and tries to tug Jon forward by his cock.
Jon hisses. "Hey, stop. You're gonna dislocate my dick or something." He doesn't think that really happens, but he shuffles forward anyway and hisses again when Ryan arches forward and tries to rub the tip of Jon's cock behind his balls. Ryan's right about Jon needing to hold him up. The angle won't work quite right like this, even with Ryan's leg pulled up.
"Here," Jon says. He pushes his chest into Ryan's, pinning him against the van with just two thin layers of cotton between them, and reaches for Ryan's other leg, tugging behind his knee. Ryan hooks his leg over Jon's hip easily and oh, oh, they're so lucky that the van has a roof rack. Ryan manages to catch it with one hand and help hold himself up so Jon can grab his dick and line up, pressing inside and claiming Ryan's mouth before Ryan can groan into the night air loud enough to wake everyone.
The kissing's probably a good idea for Jon, too, because Ryan's ass is so tight and feels amazing clenching down on his cock. Jon buries his own sounds in Ryan's mouth. It takes a minute, but Ryan relaxes around him, only to tighten again when Jon eases back, then shoves back in harder than he meant to. It's the position, the way gravity's pulling Ryan down and Jon's having to fight against it. His legs are already trembling from Ryan's weight and the pleasure of being inside him, the thrill of doing this outside in such tenuous privacy.
Ryan pulls back from the kiss with a gasp when Jon drives into him again, going deep as Ryan slips down the side of the van a fraction.
"Need to work out more," Ryan says unevenly, and Jon gets distracted watching the muscles of Ryan's arm strain where he's holding on to the roof rack. He shoves in deep and stays there so he can lean up and lick at Ryan's bicep, bite at the curve of lean muscle and listen to Ryan try to stay quiet when Jon licks closer and closer to his armpit.
"Nah," he whispers into Ryan's ear, fucking him unevenly. "I like you just like this."
Ryan laughs quietly, and Jon shudders from the way it makes Ryan's muscles flutter around him. "Who said I was talking about me?" Ryan asks.
Jon snorts and shoves forward with more force on his next thrust. "You need me to fuck you harder, baby? I could if I got you down on the ground. If you'll let me fuck you on the side of the road, I bet you'd get down on your back for me anywhere."
"Why don't we do it in the road?" Ryan quotes, half-singing, and then they both start to shake with laughter, Jon pinning Ryan in place with his hips and moving in tiny little jerks inside him, Ryan rippling around Jon's cock.
"But you like it when people watch," Jon finally manages to gasp into Ryan's neck, rasping his beard over his skin just to make Ryan squirm.
Ryan moans again, and Jon can't help answering it with one of his own, both of them loud in the stillness of the night. There's a flicker of movement inside the van, and shit, maybe Jon likes it when people watch, too, because all of a sudden he's too close, too soon.
"Fuck," he breathes out against Ryan's skin, nipping his way back to Ryan's mouth. "Gonna come, can't-fuck, Ryan-"
Ryan makes a noise that sounds like disappointment, but Jon can see something a lot more like triumph in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he says, seeking Jon's mouth again, swallowing down the desperate groan Jon makes just before he starts to come.
Jon tucks his face against Ryan's neck again, sucks a bruising kiss into the smooth, pale skin as he shakes through the aftershocks, hips still jerking unevenly against Ryan's ass. He pulls out gently when he feels Ryan's legs lose their tension, letting Ryan drop to the ground as dead weight, even as he's still clinging to the roof rack of the van. It puts the entire long, lean curve of him on display, his shirt riding up above his navel, his naked legs stretching towards the ground, one foot still encumbered by his shoe and his ruined trousers and the other just barely touching the ground.
Fuck, there's only one thing Jon can do faced with that.
"Don't fucking move," he growls at Ryan, just before he drops to the ground, the sharp gravel on the side of the road digging into his knees.
It's as uncomfortable as hell, but Ryan's cock is hard and wet at the tip, and he let Jon fuck him without either of them ever really touching Ryan's cock, so Jon figures he can deal with his knees hurting for a few minutes.
He grabs Ryan's dick and starts to guide it to his mouth, but remembers that movement in the van. It's quiet now, but just in case, he raises his free hand and presses his fingers to Ryan's mouth. "Suck," he says, and Ryan does, sucking two of Jon's fingers in just as Jon gets his mouth on Ryan's cock.
He loves going down on Ryan, always has. Ryan's a satisfying weight on his tongue, and Jon likes the way his mouth always feels tender and used after Ryan comes. Plus, he's fucking good at it, and he likes seeing how fast he can make Ryan fall apart.
Ryan's already so worked up that it only takes a minute before his hips start bucking forward as Ryan makes soft, muffled noises around Jon's fingers. Jon has to hold the base of Ryan's cock and keep him from trying to push into Jon's throat, because Ryan always will if he can, even if he doesn't mean to. Ryan just doesn't think when he gets that far gone.
Ryan doesn't come, though, not yet. Because all of a sudden he's pulling at Jon's wrist, pulling Jon's fingers out of his mouth and guiding Jon's hand down.
"Finger me, finger me, please," Ryan says, urgent but quiet. "I want your fingers inside me when I come in your mouth."
Jon pulls off Ryan's dick and licks at his lips. They feel sore. Good. "Can you be quiet?" he asks.
Ryan ignores the question and whines out, "Please," holding Jon's wrist and pushing until Jon's hand is there between Ryan's legs. "Please."
Jon caves, just like Ryan probably knew he would. He rubs his fingers over Ryan's hole, where he's wet and stretched, and says, "Bite down on your arm or something."
Ryan lets out a huff of annoyance, but he turns his face into the arm that's still holding on to the roof rack so he can muffle his sounds if he needs to. He'll need to. Jon knows him.
As soon as Ryan's obeyed, Jon pushes the two fingers Ryan had been sucking on into Ryan's ass in one smooth thrust, then swallows Ryan's cock back down.
Ryan cries out at the first stroke of Jon's callused fingertips over his prostate, and Jon lets go his hold around the base of Ryan's cock to scrape blunt fingernails down Ryan's thigh in warning, unwilling to pull off long enough to remind him again to be quiet.
"Sorry, sorry," Ryan whimpers, but Jon knows he's nothing of the sort, not when he's pushing farther into Jon's mouth, hitting the back of Jon's throat. If Jon hadn't been prepared for it and ready to swallow, he would have choked; instead he takes his free hand and pushes Ryan's hips back against the cold metal side of the van, holding him in place as he pulls back to suck on just the head of Ryan's cock, lightly tonguing the slit and looking up at Ryan in warning before he curls his fingers around the base of Ryan's dick again.
Shivering, Ryan nods frantically and bears down on Jon's fingers, begging with his body even as he keeps his face hidden against his arm.
Jon can't resist Ryan when he begs. Well-Jon can't resist Ryan, period, but especially not when he begs. He leaves off teasing and sucks Ryan down again, sliding his lips down until they touch the circle of his fingers, pressing his tongue hard against the underside.
He gets a rhythm going, his fingers moving in counterpoint to his mouth, twisting his wrist a little at the end of every stroke just to make Ryan shudder again. When he looks up, Ryan's chest is heaving, his face tucked against his arm with his teeth set against the smooth curve of his bicep, just above the edge of his t-shirt.
Jon moans around Ryan's cock, and Ryan's free hand gropes around Jon's neck and shoulders and then tangles in his hair. He just holds on at first, petting Jon a little, running the strands through his fingers, but as he gets close again he starts to pull, trying to fuck with Jon's pace, make him go faster.
And that's enough to make Jon pull off, kissing across Ryan's belly and setting his mouth against the jut of Ryan's hip to kiss a bruise there, even as Ryan groans quietly in frustration.
"Pushy," he mouths against Ryan's skin, arching into the once-again gentle touch of Ryan's fingers in his hair.
Ryan groans. "Please," he says again, sounding totally wrecked.
Jon rubs his beard over the mark he left on Ryan's hipbone. "Please what?" he asks.
"Please let me come," Ryan whimpers, just a little too loud.
"Be quiet," Jon admonishes, twisting his fingers inside Ryan's ass, watching as Ryan's whole body jerks, "and maybe I will."
Ryan glances down to meet Jon's eyes and nods emphatically, rubbing his cheek against his arm.
"Good," Jon says, and then he swirls his tongue over the fresh drop of slickness pearling the tip of Ryan's cock before going down again.
Ryan stays remarkably quiet, and his hips only make small, abortive near-movements before Ryan seems to remember himself and hold still. Jon rewards Ryan by pushing a third finger into his ass, and even then Ryan just gasps, holding his breath, not moving at all. Jon intends to give Ryan's cock one last, hard suck, then pull off to check and make sure Ryan's okay, only Ryan comes when Jon gives him that last, hard suck.
Jon tries not to choke at the unexpectedness of Ryan coming without warning, and he manages to swallow most of it down, only a little of it escaping his mouth. He sits back on his heels to wipe his mouth, and Ryan's chest is heaving again.
"Shit," Ryan says, finally letting go of the roof rack and sliding down the side of the van. "Shit, Jon."
Jon quirks an eyebrow up at him. "Quick on the draw tonight," he says.
"Shut up," Ryan says, and it's fucking dark out, but Jon guesses that he's blushing. "I thought I heard someone move in the van. Do you think they're awake? Do you think." Ryan's swallow is audible. "Do you think they heard us?"
"Maybe," Jon says, although he didn't hear anything, and there doesn't seem to be any movement in the van. "Come on, we should put you back together." He shuffles forward and helps untangle Ryan's pants, then slides Ryan's shoe back on and ties it while Ryan buttons his pants and buckles his belt, reaching down to pick up his discarded jacket.
He helps Jon to his feet when he's done, then leans down to kiss him; Jon presses into it, into the reminder of how tender his lips are now.
"Such an exhibitionist," Jon murmurs against Ryan's lips.
"Not when it's the band," Ryan says, but Jon is close enough now to feel the flush of his cheeks, his little shrug of embarrassment, both of which are Ryan-speak for yes.
Jon goes up on his toes for another kiss, then pulls back, tangling his fingers with Ryan's and pulling him away from the side of the van. "Maybe Eric was snoring a little bit. You know how he does that sometimes." Jon shuts his eyes and lolls his head to the side, wheezing on the exhale, then taking in a big, whuffling snort of breath. He thinks it's a pretty good impression, and Ryan's snickering probably means he agrees.
They're both still laughing quietly when they clamber back into the van through the passenger-side door, and Jon can't resist leaning across his armrest to pull Ryan into one last kiss before he reaches for the box of baby wipes on the floor, cleans up his hands, and then starts the engine up again.
Jon has been driving for maybe half a mile when he hears Alex turn over in the backseat, snuffling into his pillow. "You know," Alex says sleepily, "if you guys keep doing that, we're never going to get to Phoenix."
"Your mother's never getting to Phoenix," Jon says serenely.
Ryan just tips his head back against his headrest, looking well-fucked and smug.
***
Authors: stephanometra and untappedbeauty
Pairing: Jon/Ryan
Rating: NC17
Summary: "I'm not sure you have the discipline to keep your eyes on the road. What do you think?"
Warnings: Van porn. We're not sorry.
Notes: SEE, SOMETIMES I GET THINGS I WANT. 4300 words.
***
When Jon told Spencer that he and Ryan and Alex were going out in a van on their first tour, Spencer basically laughed him off the phone.
At the time, Jon thought that Spencer was just mocking them for slumming it.
Now, he knows better.
"Are we there yet?" Ryan asks, slumped in the passenger seat, huddled in a blanket against the nighttime chill. Wuss.
"Does it fucking look like we're there yet?" Jon asks, giving him an irritated look. It's been thirty miles since the last town, sixteen since the last gas station, and the desert spreads out in front of them, silent and solemn and beautiful. Jon would really enjoy this drive if it weren't for the overgrown child riding shotgun. It never occurred to Jon that Ryan would have problems keeping himself entertained on the road, but now that he thinks about it-and he's had more than enough time to think about it, lately-all of Ryan's usual activities on the bus are things that the close quarters and shitty suspension of the van render difficult at best.
That didn't stop him from trying, but of course it was a disaster. Bong water everywhere. It wasn't pretty. And Ryan says that writing in the van is impossible, because the bumps render his handwriting illegible and staring at his laptop screen makes him nauseated.
Which leaves annoying the rest of them as his sole occupation.
And with Kate and Eric and Alex all asleep in the back, that means that Jon is the only one left to annoy.
"I hate the desert," Ryan says for maybe the fiftieth time since they crossed the border into Arizona.
"Yes, Ryan, I know," Jon says with a lot more patience than he actually feels. "We all know precisely how much you hate the desert."
"We should have gone to Vegas first."
"You would still hate the desert if we were on the 15, Ross."
Ryan makes a face. "Shut up."
No, you, Jon thinks. He turns the radio up a fraction of a decibel and says nothing; Ryan fails to take the hint.
"There are so many better things we could be doing than driving through the desert," he complains.
Now, that-that, Jon wholeheartedly agrees with. "Unfortunately, we have to drive through the desert in order to do them."
"Not necessarily," Ryan says.
"Oh, really," Jon says, not even bothering to feign interest; Ryan will keep talking whether Jon is interested or not.
"Well, yeah." Ryan looks pensively out his window. "We wouldn't have to wait until we got to Phoenix for you to fuck me."
Jon's jaw drops open, and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "Um," he says eloquently.
"Blowjobs are out, too," Ryan continues. "You can't blow me for obvious reasons, and I can't exactly suck you off right now. I'd either get a concussion from knocking my head against the steering wheel every time we hit a pothole, or you'd try to grab my hair like you always do when I'm going down on you, and you'd crash the van and we'd all die." After a pause he says, "I mean, my head's good, but it's not worth dying for."
Ryan says it all casually, like he's talking about the weather or where they should stop to eat. He doesn't bother to lower his voice or look back and make sure the others haven't woken up, but Jon does, darting a quick glance in the rear-view mirror. Alex is drooling a little on Kate's shirt and Eric's face is smushed against the window, so they should be safe.
"I could give you a handjob," Ryan says, and he finally looks away from the window, rolling his head to the side on the headrest and grinning at Jon crookedly.
Jon swallows hard and considers how that would work. Could he keep driving while Ryan jerked him off? Maybe. It might be worth it to find out.
"But," Ryan says sadly, "that wouldn't do much for me. I'd be hard and you wouldn't be able to help me get off. I could always jerk off with your come on my fingers, but I don't know. I'm not sure you have the discipline to keep your eyes on the road. What do you think?"
"Um," Jon says again. He's not sure he has the discipline to keep his eyes on the road right now, and that's just because Ryan's smiling a small, private smile, eyes bright and daring. "We could always try?"
Ryan laughs, easy and open, and Kate shifts in back. Jon's heart leaps, but Kate's eyes stay closed.
"We could," Ryan agrees, then hums a little before he asks. "Are you hard right now? I think I could get there pretty fast if I just..." He trails off, and Jon sees it out of the corner of his eye when Ryan drops a hand down, cupping himself and rubbing over his cock.
"I'm trying to drive," Jon says helplessly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ryan strokes himself hard through his pants, and fuck, that's the worst thing about Ryan making the permanent switch from jeans to slacks, because even in the dim light Jon can clearly see every inch of Ryan's cock through the fabric. It's almost worse than if he were naked.
Thinking about Ryan being naked in the passenger seat is enough to make Jon swerve to avoid driving off the road.
He looks at Ryan-at his face this time, not his crotch-and finds that Ryan is giving him an insufferable smile.
"See something you like?" Ryan asks, arching his hips a little.
Jon flicks his gaze down to Ryan's crotch again. "You're not wearing your seatbelt," he observes.
Ryan blinks in surprise. "Yeah, thanks, Mom," he finally says, rolling his eyes.
"Never call me that again," Jon says as he pulls off onto the shoulder.
"I could call you other things," Ryan says, grinning in triumph.
"Whatever." Checking first to make sure the dome lights are off, Jon swings open his door and then reaches back into the car to catch Ryan's hand and drag him across the seat, out of the van. Ryan lets him, and then makes a soft, pleased sound when Jon leans up on his toes for a hard, possessive kiss. "You'd better have everything we need," Jon says.
"Or what?" Ryan says, still smiling smugly, leaning back against the open driver's-side door.
"Either I fuck you dry, or we wake everyone else up digging around for the lube."
Ryan shudders. "Would you still-"
"Hmm," Jon says, crowding Ryan against the door, rasping his tongue against the stubble on the underside of Ryan's jaw. "Is that what you want, Ryan? Want them to see how much you want it?"
"Fuck," Ryan bites out, clutching at Jon's back to pull him closer, the hot line of his cock digging into Jon's belly. "I-jacket pocket."
In Ryan's jacket pocket are a half-empty bottle of lube and a couple of condoms. Jon arches an eyebrow. "Prepared, aren't we?" he asks.
"Not yet," Ryan says breathlessly, bending his head for another kiss. "But you're kind of a sure thing."
"Cocky," Jon says into Ryan's mouth, and then he smacks Ryan's hip when he feels Ryan's smirk against his lips.
"Just how you like me," Ryan murmurs, and Jon kisses him quiet. The only sounds are the tick-tick-tick of the engine cooling, the wind, and their mouths and bodies moving together. There are no cars whizzing by, not yet. The road's been mostly quiet, but Jon can't count on it staying that way. There may not be any streetlights on this stretch of road, but they'd be visible in the headlights of anyone driving by.
Jon pulls back, but he has to press one last kiss to Ryan's mouth when Ryan cranes his neck forward, trying to follow. "Other side," Jon says, "away from the road."
He tugs Ryan's hand, and Ryan follows readily. Jon presses him back against the passenger-side door and starts opening Ryan's belt, fumbling because of the darkness and the way Ryan keeps trying to push his hips forward. But eventually Jon gets Ryan's pants open, and they're dragged down by the weight of his belt, pooling around his calves.
"This is hot, right?" Ryan says. "I've never had sex like this before, outside on the side of the road." He sounds breathless and excited, and his hands are flexing on Jon's waist, then sliding up his back and down again, restless but somehow comforting.
"Totally hot," Jon agrees, and drops to his knees. He pulls Ryan's underwear down to join his trousers, then grabs Ryan's cock and takes him into his mouth. Ryan's hands scrabble against the side of the van before one hand latches onto the door handle and the other one lands on Jon's shoulder. It tightens when Jon starts sucking and bobbing on Ryan's cock, rubbing a finger behind his balls.
"Fuck," Ryan says quietly, and Jon pulls off of Ryan's dick and strokes it a few times, lazy, so he can grin up at Ryan smugly before he reaches for the lube.
"Turn around," he tells Ryan, and Ryan does it, shuffling awkwardly because of his pants shackling his ankles. Jon spreads Ryan open with one thumb and can't resist: he licks up the cleft of Ryan's ass and rubs his tongue over Ryan's hole just so he can hear Ryan moan quietly and watch him try to spread his legs. He starts pushing in with one slick finger before Ryan's moan has even died.
"God, you're fucking tight," Jon says, grazing his teeth over the curve of Ryan's ass, giving him just enough time to adjust to one finger before coming back with two.
Ryan makes no reply other than another soft moan, pressing his forehead against the window. Jon teases his thumb over Ryan's rim, right where he's stretched tight around Jon's fingers, and bites down on the flesh of Ryan's ass.
"Quiet," he says, muffling the sound against Ryan's skin. "You'll wake them up."
"They won't hear," Ryan says breathlessly, trailing off into another moan when Jon twists his fingers to stroke over his prostate.
Jon snorts. "If I gag you, maybe," he says, and he doesn't miss Ryan's full-body shudder at the idea, can't miss it, because he's feeling it from the inside, fuck. But it's not like he carries a gag on him all the time, or anything; he'll have to settle for shutting Ryan up with his mouth in order to keep him from waking up the others.
"Turn around again," he says, sliding his fingers free, and Ryan makes a disappointed sound but obeys, almost tripping over his feet this time. As soon as Ryan's back is to the van again, Jon bends down and struggles to untie the knotted-up laces of one of Ryan's stupid Italian designer shoes that he has no reason to be wearing when they're traveling anyway. "You and your dumb shoes, Ryan, I swear to God."
"They're not dumb," Ryan protests. He wiggles his foot free and steps out of his pants as soon as Jon has his shoelaces loose enough, and he shifts his weight so he can throw his leg over Jon's shoulder, rubbing up and down his back with one socked heel in clear demand of something. Jon isn't sure that Ryan even cares what the something is at this point.
"All shoes are dumb," Jon says, rocking back onto his heels and then standing up, catching Ryan's leg in the crook of his elbow so that when he leans up to capture Ryan's mouth in another kiss, he's holding Ryan wide open and vulnerable to the scrape of Jon's jeans over his cock, his ass.
Ryan hisses at the contact, the muscles in his stretched thigh spasming. "Hurry," he whimpers against Jon's mouth.
"What, and reduce our risk of getting caught?" Jon says, smiling into the next kiss as Ryan shivers again, and not from the chill of being half-naked in the middle of the desert at night. But he's already thumbing open the button on his jeans, biting his lip when Ryan reaches down eagerly to get them pushed down his hips.
Ryan doesn't bother with more than that, just gets Jon's jeans and underwear down far enough to free his cock. He sheds his jacket and then shoves Jon's t-shirt up so he can stroke Jon's hips and belly impatiently while Jon rolls on the condom. As soon as Jon's done, Ryan grabs his dick, stroking Jon a couple of times before Ryan says, "You're gonna have to hold me up for this to work. And come closer," and tries to tug Jon forward by his cock.
Jon hisses. "Hey, stop. You're gonna dislocate my dick or something." He doesn't think that really happens, but he shuffles forward anyway and hisses again when Ryan arches forward and tries to rub the tip of Jon's cock behind his balls. Ryan's right about Jon needing to hold him up. The angle won't work quite right like this, even with Ryan's leg pulled up.
"Here," Jon says. He pushes his chest into Ryan's, pinning him against the van with just two thin layers of cotton between them, and reaches for Ryan's other leg, tugging behind his knee. Ryan hooks his leg over Jon's hip easily and oh, oh, they're so lucky that the van has a roof rack. Ryan manages to catch it with one hand and help hold himself up so Jon can grab his dick and line up, pressing inside and claiming Ryan's mouth before Ryan can groan into the night air loud enough to wake everyone.
The kissing's probably a good idea for Jon, too, because Ryan's ass is so tight and feels amazing clenching down on his cock. Jon buries his own sounds in Ryan's mouth. It takes a minute, but Ryan relaxes around him, only to tighten again when Jon eases back, then shoves back in harder than he meant to. It's the position, the way gravity's pulling Ryan down and Jon's having to fight against it. His legs are already trembling from Ryan's weight and the pleasure of being inside him, the thrill of doing this outside in such tenuous privacy.
Ryan pulls back from the kiss with a gasp when Jon drives into him again, going deep as Ryan slips down the side of the van a fraction.
"Need to work out more," Ryan says unevenly, and Jon gets distracted watching the muscles of Ryan's arm strain where he's holding on to the roof rack. He shoves in deep and stays there so he can lean up and lick at Ryan's bicep, bite at the curve of lean muscle and listen to Ryan try to stay quiet when Jon licks closer and closer to his armpit.
"Nah," he whispers into Ryan's ear, fucking him unevenly. "I like you just like this."
Ryan laughs quietly, and Jon shudders from the way it makes Ryan's muscles flutter around him. "Who said I was talking about me?" Ryan asks.
Jon snorts and shoves forward with more force on his next thrust. "You need me to fuck you harder, baby? I could if I got you down on the ground. If you'll let me fuck you on the side of the road, I bet you'd get down on your back for me anywhere."
"Why don't we do it in the road?" Ryan quotes, half-singing, and then they both start to shake with laughter, Jon pinning Ryan in place with his hips and moving in tiny little jerks inside him, Ryan rippling around Jon's cock.
"But you like it when people watch," Jon finally manages to gasp into Ryan's neck, rasping his beard over his skin just to make Ryan squirm.
Ryan moans again, and Jon can't help answering it with one of his own, both of them loud in the stillness of the night. There's a flicker of movement inside the van, and shit, maybe Jon likes it when people watch, too, because all of a sudden he's too close, too soon.
"Fuck," he breathes out against Ryan's skin, nipping his way back to Ryan's mouth. "Gonna come, can't-fuck, Ryan-"
Ryan makes a noise that sounds like disappointment, but Jon can see something a lot more like triumph in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he says, seeking Jon's mouth again, swallowing down the desperate groan Jon makes just before he starts to come.
Jon tucks his face against Ryan's neck again, sucks a bruising kiss into the smooth, pale skin as he shakes through the aftershocks, hips still jerking unevenly against Ryan's ass. He pulls out gently when he feels Ryan's legs lose their tension, letting Ryan drop to the ground as dead weight, even as he's still clinging to the roof rack of the van. It puts the entire long, lean curve of him on display, his shirt riding up above his navel, his naked legs stretching towards the ground, one foot still encumbered by his shoe and his ruined trousers and the other just barely touching the ground.
Fuck, there's only one thing Jon can do faced with that.
"Don't fucking move," he growls at Ryan, just before he drops to the ground, the sharp gravel on the side of the road digging into his knees.
It's as uncomfortable as hell, but Ryan's cock is hard and wet at the tip, and he let Jon fuck him without either of them ever really touching Ryan's cock, so Jon figures he can deal with his knees hurting for a few minutes.
He grabs Ryan's dick and starts to guide it to his mouth, but remembers that movement in the van. It's quiet now, but just in case, he raises his free hand and presses his fingers to Ryan's mouth. "Suck," he says, and Ryan does, sucking two of Jon's fingers in just as Jon gets his mouth on Ryan's cock.
He loves going down on Ryan, always has. Ryan's a satisfying weight on his tongue, and Jon likes the way his mouth always feels tender and used after Ryan comes. Plus, he's fucking good at it, and he likes seeing how fast he can make Ryan fall apart.
Ryan's already so worked up that it only takes a minute before his hips start bucking forward as Ryan makes soft, muffled noises around Jon's fingers. Jon has to hold the base of Ryan's cock and keep him from trying to push into Jon's throat, because Ryan always will if he can, even if he doesn't mean to. Ryan just doesn't think when he gets that far gone.
Ryan doesn't come, though, not yet. Because all of a sudden he's pulling at Jon's wrist, pulling Jon's fingers out of his mouth and guiding Jon's hand down.
"Finger me, finger me, please," Ryan says, urgent but quiet. "I want your fingers inside me when I come in your mouth."
Jon pulls off Ryan's dick and licks at his lips. They feel sore. Good. "Can you be quiet?" he asks.
Ryan ignores the question and whines out, "Please," holding Jon's wrist and pushing until Jon's hand is there between Ryan's legs. "Please."
Jon caves, just like Ryan probably knew he would. He rubs his fingers over Ryan's hole, where he's wet and stretched, and says, "Bite down on your arm or something."
Ryan lets out a huff of annoyance, but he turns his face into the arm that's still holding on to the roof rack so he can muffle his sounds if he needs to. He'll need to. Jon knows him.
As soon as Ryan's obeyed, Jon pushes the two fingers Ryan had been sucking on into Ryan's ass in one smooth thrust, then swallows Ryan's cock back down.
Ryan cries out at the first stroke of Jon's callused fingertips over his prostate, and Jon lets go his hold around the base of Ryan's cock to scrape blunt fingernails down Ryan's thigh in warning, unwilling to pull off long enough to remind him again to be quiet.
"Sorry, sorry," Ryan whimpers, but Jon knows he's nothing of the sort, not when he's pushing farther into Jon's mouth, hitting the back of Jon's throat. If Jon hadn't been prepared for it and ready to swallow, he would have choked; instead he takes his free hand and pushes Ryan's hips back against the cold metal side of the van, holding him in place as he pulls back to suck on just the head of Ryan's cock, lightly tonguing the slit and looking up at Ryan in warning before he curls his fingers around the base of Ryan's dick again.
Shivering, Ryan nods frantically and bears down on Jon's fingers, begging with his body even as he keeps his face hidden against his arm.
Jon can't resist Ryan when he begs. Well-Jon can't resist Ryan, period, but especially not when he begs. He leaves off teasing and sucks Ryan down again, sliding his lips down until they touch the circle of his fingers, pressing his tongue hard against the underside.
He gets a rhythm going, his fingers moving in counterpoint to his mouth, twisting his wrist a little at the end of every stroke just to make Ryan shudder again. When he looks up, Ryan's chest is heaving, his face tucked against his arm with his teeth set against the smooth curve of his bicep, just above the edge of his t-shirt.
Jon moans around Ryan's cock, and Ryan's free hand gropes around Jon's neck and shoulders and then tangles in his hair. He just holds on at first, petting Jon a little, running the strands through his fingers, but as he gets close again he starts to pull, trying to fuck with Jon's pace, make him go faster.
And that's enough to make Jon pull off, kissing across Ryan's belly and setting his mouth against the jut of Ryan's hip to kiss a bruise there, even as Ryan groans quietly in frustration.
"Pushy," he mouths against Ryan's skin, arching into the once-again gentle touch of Ryan's fingers in his hair.
Ryan groans. "Please," he says again, sounding totally wrecked.
Jon rubs his beard over the mark he left on Ryan's hipbone. "Please what?" he asks.
"Please let me come," Ryan whimpers, just a little too loud.
"Be quiet," Jon admonishes, twisting his fingers inside Ryan's ass, watching as Ryan's whole body jerks, "and maybe I will."
Ryan glances down to meet Jon's eyes and nods emphatically, rubbing his cheek against his arm.
"Good," Jon says, and then he swirls his tongue over the fresh drop of slickness pearling the tip of Ryan's cock before going down again.
Ryan stays remarkably quiet, and his hips only make small, abortive near-movements before Ryan seems to remember himself and hold still. Jon rewards Ryan by pushing a third finger into his ass, and even then Ryan just gasps, holding his breath, not moving at all. Jon intends to give Ryan's cock one last, hard suck, then pull off to check and make sure Ryan's okay, only Ryan comes when Jon gives him that last, hard suck.
Jon tries not to choke at the unexpectedness of Ryan coming without warning, and he manages to swallow most of it down, only a little of it escaping his mouth. He sits back on his heels to wipe his mouth, and Ryan's chest is heaving again.
"Shit," Ryan says, finally letting go of the roof rack and sliding down the side of the van. "Shit, Jon."
Jon quirks an eyebrow up at him. "Quick on the draw tonight," he says.
"Shut up," Ryan says, and it's fucking dark out, but Jon guesses that he's blushing. "I thought I heard someone move in the van. Do you think they're awake? Do you think." Ryan's swallow is audible. "Do you think they heard us?"
"Maybe," Jon says, although he didn't hear anything, and there doesn't seem to be any movement in the van. "Come on, we should put you back together." He shuffles forward and helps untangle Ryan's pants, then slides Ryan's shoe back on and ties it while Ryan buttons his pants and buckles his belt, reaching down to pick up his discarded jacket.
He helps Jon to his feet when he's done, then leans down to kiss him; Jon presses into it, into the reminder of how tender his lips are now.
"Such an exhibitionist," Jon murmurs against Ryan's lips.
"Not when it's the band," Ryan says, but Jon is close enough now to feel the flush of his cheeks, his little shrug of embarrassment, both of which are Ryan-speak for yes.
Jon goes up on his toes for another kiss, then pulls back, tangling his fingers with Ryan's and pulling him away from the side of the van. "Maybe Eric was snoring a little bit. You know how he does that sometimes." Jon shuts his eyes and lolls his head to the side, wheezing on the exhale, then taking in a big, whuffling snort of breath. He thinks it's a pretty good impression, and Ryan's snickering probably means he agrees.
They're both still laughing quietly when they clamber back into the van through the passenger-side door, and Jon can't resist leaning across his armrest to pull Ryan into one last kiss before he reaches for the box of baby wipes on the floor, cleans up his hands, and then starts the engine up again.
Jon has been driving for maybe half a mile when he hears Alex turn over in the backseat, snuffling into his pillow. "You know," Alex says sleepily, "if you guys keep doing that, we're never going to get to Phoenix."
"Your mother's never getting to Phoenix," Jon says serenely.
Ryan just tips his head back against his headrest, looking well-fucked and smug.
***