New Fic: Cowardly Acts (4/4)
Cowardly Acts, by Fabella (wistful_fever)
The O.C., Seth/Ryan, NC-17.
Slash, Long, Future Fic.
Summary
Seth Cohen: twenty years old, unspecified major, neurotic mess.
Disclaimer
Not mine, no money, don’t sue, yadda, yadda, you know the drill.
Notes
This is set while Ryan and Seth are attending an unspecified college together, and likely to be made AU in the next couple of years. Also, I began writing this before a lot of the events of mid-season two took place (then took a long break from it, before returning recently), so it’s already AU in some ways.
Go Back To Part One, Part Two, Part Three A, Part Three B
Cowardly Acts 4/4, by Fabella
Newport Beach was quiet at night. Seth’s car wasn’t the only one on the road, but compared to Los Angeles around this hour, this felt like he was driving through a ghost town. The stop lights went through their rotation of guiding colors, but seemed sort of lonely, hanging around up there with no one to pay attention. The stores he passed were closed, lights turned off, while the apartments above were lit up, with only a few hollow spots where the windows remained dark. Ryan was probably half way home by now, talking himself in and out of calling to see if Seth had changed his mind.
Seth hadn’t, but he kept driving in circles anyway, haunting his old life.
As far as metaphors went, the car one had been pretty cool, but using a car as a metaphor didn’t get Seth to class. When he’d told Ryan that he was going to drive himself after all, Ryan had paused with his hand lifting the passenger door handle, face serious above the roof of the car. The war to trust tore a line of emotion across Ryan’s mouth, and Seth had fought off guilt, knowing he was right, until finally, Ryan stretched his arm across the roof, palm facing up, and Seth had tossed the keys to him.
“I’ll see you at home,” Seth had said, and Ryan stared at him, holding the keys tightly in one fist. “I promise. I’ll be there.”
Watching Ryan walk around to the driver’s side and get in, his steps halting, had been some of the hardest thirty seconds Seth had ever gone through, because he knew what was going on in Ryan’s head; if there was one thing Seth understood, it was the power of one’s own neuroses. Yet, he’d let Ryan get in, drive off, because something had still been off, a part of him nearly glad Ryan was going. It felt like half of him was in love with Ryan and half of him wasn’t, and the two parts of him, the two *hims*, hadn’t shaken hands yet. Ryan’s tail lights had left streaks of red over Seth’s eyes long after Ryan was gone. Seth had climbed into his own car and sat there for a minute, hands on the steering wheel, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He sucked at being in love.
Now, driving through his old town, his speed kept dropping, until he found himself pulling over at the pier, shutting the motor off. His headlights clicked off along with the rest of the car, leaving the beach shadowed past the fence, the ocean a dark line meeting the sky, and Seth unbuckled his belt cautiously, not sure what he was doing. When he opened the car door, the salty breeze hit him square in the face, and he sucked in a breath, his hair pressed flat to his forehead.
“Ryan’s in love with me,” he tried, testing the words.
No. Not right, not yet.
The beach was as abandoned as the town had appeared. Only a few teenagers were hanging around tonight, and they’d gathered around a fire some distance down the beach, oblivious to the dark shape untying the knots in his shoe laces, removing his socks, leaving the whole mess piled haphazardly together on the pavement as he hopped over the fence, onto the sand. It was cold where his toes sank deeper, and Seth walked toward the ocean, stopping at the edge of it, where the water couldn’t reach him as it heaved forward.
He’d grown up here, in this beautiful, sprawling town, and he’d hated every minute of it until Ryan had come. One night, he’d gone to bed thinking, holy shit, there’s a convict sleeping in my pool house, and he’d had a hard time sleeping, because convicts and pool houses did not make a good mix for a kid who’d been stuffed in one too many lockers. The next morning, the convict had opened up the door, letting the breeze in, and his name had been Ryan, and he’d had wary eyes, a slept-on face, and bare, yellow shoulders. Seth had swallowed the sea of saliva that suddenly filled his mouth, and asked this Ryan guy if he wanted to play, expecting, in the back of his mind, a sneaker full of piss.
But Ryan had crossed the floor, sat down beside him, and picked up the second player controller that had only ever been held by Seth’s dad.
Christ, Seth thought, shutting his eyes. He scared the shit out of me.
He still does.
Sitting down on a lump of sand, Seth stretched his legs out, and relaxed. Dark water tumbled over itself, swallowing its own parts and changing. Always moving, the water was constantly becoming something new, with only parts of its old self. Seth didn’t know why he’d come here or what he’d expected to find. On this same beach, Ryan had saved Seth from getting his ass kicked, and broken Seth’s heart when he said he was leaving, all within the first year they’d known each other. The water moved, stretching over itself, and Seth leaned back, putting his elbows in the sand, watching.
He remained reclining like that for some time, calmly picking out pieces of himself that he’d purposely misplaced and rearranging them in a new pattern. The sound of laughter carried to him from down the beach, but Seth didn’t turn to see the figures circling the fire. When the water sloshed over his feet, a change in tide, Seth dropped onto his back in the sand, and stayed like that until the cell phone in his pocket started to vibrate insistently against his thigh. He brought it out with a sigh and stared at the blue-lit face, surprised when he didn’t see his home number staring back at him. Hesitantly, he answered.
“Hey, Summer.”
“So I called your parents,” she immediately started, her voice like the snap of chewing gum. “And they said you’d left with Ryan a couple of hours ago, so I called your place, to thank you for not being a dumbass, give some positive reinforcement, but guess what? He said you weren’t there.”
“I will be,” Seth said. “I’m doing some soul searching.”
“Seth, your soul is too shallow to search.”
Seth didn’t laugh. He stared at the stars, untouched by clouds.
“Wow,” Summer said after a minute, her voice soft. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Seth said. “I’m gay.”
Summer was quiet for a while. Seth listened to her breathing on the other end, and remembered her breath in his ear as he slipped inside her, the warm grasp of her arms around his neck, the slip of her foot up his leg. But the memory was distant. It was fading. It was the sand under his shoulders, and he couldn’t hold onto it forever.
“I kinda figured,” she said eventually.
Seth picked up a handful of sand, and let it slip through his fingers, waiting for her to speak to him. If he’d done that more, maybe they’d still be together.
“You want me to call Ryan?” she asked. “I could tell him you’re taking the scenic route.”
“No,” Seth said. “I’m almost done here. You know I loved you, right? I mean, a lot of the good stuff about me, that came from you.”
“Cohen,” she said harshly, and no one but Seth would have noticed the waver in her voice, a wobble near the end of his name. “If you make me cry, I’m going to find you, and...” She trailed off. There was a skin-against-skin sound, like she was covering her mouth, holding back for a moment, pulling herself in. A strong star winked at Seth, before it became lost among all the others. “The same here, all right? Now go home to your boyfriend.”
With that, the line went dead. Seth listened to the dial tone until a recording of the operator came on, and then he shut the phone off, folding it back up and sticking it in his pocket. In his other hand, the last few grains of sand detached from his skin.
“I’m in love with Ryan,” he tried.
That sounded about right.
*
The apartment was dark when Seth opened the door. Only the light above the stove was on, and it flickered dimly when Seth shut the door behind him. He left his bag by the kitchen table and toed off his shoes, looking around. The place was spotless, not nearly the wreck Summer had described, but little things were out of place, here and there, and there was a box in front of the sink, overflowing with dented beer cans. Seth went over to it and nudged it with his toes, making the bottles at the bottom clink together noisily.
In the living room, the television was off, and the blinds were pulled down, but there was enough light from the street for Seth to see Ryan’s body stretched across the couch, still fully dressed, but asleep, rectangles of light across his slack face. He’d pulled an afghan over himself at some point. His feet stuck out at the bottom, and even then, the afghan only covered to mid-chest. Seth hesitated, caught between going straight to bed and dealing with everything in the morning, and wanting to stop Ryan’s soft shivering with the warmth he could feel building in his own body.
Ryan made a sound, something soft and hurt, and his foot twitched.
Seth walked over and crouched beside the couch, where he could feel the heat of Ryan’s body seeping away into the chillier night air. Up close, even in the dark, Seth could see the lines of stress around Ryan’s eyes, the tired streaks under them. Lifting a hand, he reached out, let his fingers drift over the fragile skin above Ryan’s cheekbone, and Ryan flinched in his sleep, mumbling something about pudding. Seth smiled, and let his fingers drift further, combing back through Ryan’s fine hair. The intention to kiss Ryan came to Seth fully formed, as an immediate need. Heart pounding, Seth leaned forward, and rubbed his mouth across Ryan’s softly, barely a kiss at all. He tasted the pudding Ryan must have had before going to sleep.
When he pulled back, Ryan’s eyes were open and startlingly clear.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Seth whispered, moving his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “I had a few things to take care of.”
Ryan’s mouth was unsmiling and soft. Seth withdrew his hand from Ryan’s hair and grazed a thumb across Ryan’s bottom lip, feeling the soft indent at the center, before following the pouting curve to the corner, where it was wet with saliva. Seth leaned forward to taste that wet space, but Ryan’s hand thudded against his chest, holding him off.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Seth rocked away, and covered Ryan’s hand with his own. It felt familiar, the intimacy of this connection, Ryan’s palm over his thundering heart.
“I really do,” Seth said, and still holding Ryan’s hand, kissed him again.
Ryan’s lips opened immediately, and the kiss went deeper, grew wetter, until Seth could feel Ryan’s panting breath in his mouth, and he realized he was hard, aching under his jeans. Pushing one hand against himself to hold off the pain, he twisted his mouth over Ryan’s, kissing him harder, using his teeth. Ryan arched into the kiss, his hand coming up to hold the back of Seth’s neck, nails digging in.
Ryan tugged on Seth with his other hand, pulling him forward from under his arm, and Seth half stood. He crawled part of the way onto the couch, still awkwardly maintaining the contact between their mouths, and Ryan pulled out of the kiss with a damp sound, lying down all the way. The hand on Seth’s neck moved to Seth’s other side, and he tugged again, harder, pulling Seth up and over him. Seth hazed out for an instant, went to that white place where the pleasure was so sharp it short-circuited his brain, and when he came to, he was sprawled over all of Ryan like the afghan hadn’t been able to. The afghan in question was bunched between their bellies, their hips wedged together, legs entwined.
Ryan’s pupils were thrown wide open and glittered up at Seth, his head framed by Seth’s forearms. Seth tried to catch his breath, but the sight of Ryan wasn’t helping, staring up at Seth with his eyes half-closed, and his mouth half-open. His palms definitely weren’t for Seth’s oxygen needs, now that they were smoothing from Seth’s sides to his hips. When Ryan tugged again, this time on Seth’s hips, Seth stopped caring about oxygen.
Seth shifted, putting more weight on his arms, and uncertainly pressed his hips forward. Ryan bit his lip, fingers clenching on the waist of Seth’s jeans, and lifted against Seth’s weight, pushing. The next time Seth thrust, it was with a little more certainty, and soon they were rubbing their cocks together through their jeans hard and fast enough that it hurt, and Seth was sure he was going to suffer twin permanent impressions of zippers on the underside of his dick.
“I gotta,” Ryan started, and grunted, his hands letting go of Seth’s ass to push his hips away, and Seth went emo, having serious angst problems, true emotional pain, until he realized that Ryan’s hands were busy between them, unbuttoning and unzipping both pairs of jeans with amazing speed.
“Oh, fuck,” Seth hissed, when Ryan’s knuckles bumped his erection, “I think I’m dying, Ryan. I think my heart just stopped.”
“I think you’ll live,” Ryan said. And then he slid his hand inside Seth’s jeans, fingers curling around Seth’s cock. If Seth had been a cartoon, his eyes would have jumped out of his head. As it was, steam felt like it was coming from his ears.
“No, I’m definitely going to die. Tell my mother I love her.”
Ryan’s grasping fingers relaxed. “Did you just mention your mother during a handjob?” Seth opened his mouth to answer. “Never mind. Take off your pants.”
“You broke my brain, I can’t,” he complained, but he pushed himself backwards until he was on the other side of the couch. Ryan had bent his legs to give Seth room, and he was shimmying out of his pants while on his back, and honestly, how could Ryan expect Seth to do anything under these conditions?
“Pants,” Ryan gasped, trying to untangle the jeans from around his ankles. “Get them off or we fuck with them on.”
As a threat, that had lacked the right incentive, but the jean fabric had started to chafe his groin, so for once, Seth did as he was told, pushing the pants down to his ankles, before kicking them off, removing his shirt while he was at it. Looking over, he found Ryan waiting, shirt off now as well, only his boxers left. Saliva flooded Seth’s mouth. His gaze wandered from Ryan’s hard face to the smooth flesh of his chest. Small nipples punctuated Ryan’s pecs, and a light sprinkling of hair disappeared then abruptly returned under the wink of his belly button. Seth had seen all of this before, but if he was really going to do this, he would have to do more than see it.
As if reading Seth’s mind, Ryan’s fingers moved to the top of his boxers, and he slowly hooked the elastic waist away from his stomach. Disbelieving, Seth watched Ryan lift his ass, push the boxers down to his knees, his cock dark with blood and shadows, landing heavily on his muscled abdomen. Oh, right. Cock. Guys had cocks.
Ryan spread his legs wider and brought one hand up, sliding it across the underside of his cock, pressing the swollen flesh flat to his stomach.
“Still want to do this?” he asked, with a strange, cement expression.
Seth nodded, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he tried to speak and failed. Ryan’s face melted, and his body seemed to go liquid. His hand moved over himself again, down toward his balls, where they were tightly drawn under his cock, with short, dark-blonde hair covering them. Seth cleared his throat, all recently flooded parts gone mysteriously dry, and tried again to speak.
“I don’t. I don’t know how. Could you-”
Seth broke off, his hand sliding over his own thigh uselessly.
Ryan’s eyes closed for an instant, his grasp tightening. The sound he made-a long, drawn out groan that faded at the end where he sucked the noise back inside, attempting to contain it-made Seth’s cock throb, his heart pump harder, filling his body with excited blood.
“Just touch me,” Ryan grated, his eyes opening slowly. “You didn’t last time.”
Nervously, Seth brushed his fingertips over Ryan’s ankle. Ryan’s toes flexed, the bone under Seth’s touch shifting, and Ryan probably hadn’t meant for Seth to touch him *there*, but it was closest, and the hairs there were very fine and sparse. Seth thought it was a good place to start. Ryan had a nice ankle. Two very nice ankles.
“Nice ankles,” Seth said.
“Um, thanks.” Ryan shifted, pulling his hand away from his cock and clenching it at his side on top of the afghan. “I like your ankles, too.”
Seth ran his hand up Ryan’s bent leg, feeling the curve of strong muscle, the soft covering of hair as it thickened. Ryan had nice legs, too, not silky and petite like Summer’s had been, but smooth and solid, the strength of them defined under the ridge of veins, the lived in rise of scars. The skin was slightly damp where Seth’s fingers bumped against the underside of Ryan’s thigh, the inside of Ryan’s knee sweating. Seth turned his body all the way toward Ryan, and crawled forward until he was kneeling between the V of Ryan’s open legs. He put his hands on Ryan’s thighs to steady himself, and Ryan’s stomach jerked, his nostrils flaring.
“So just do what I want here, right?”
Seth didn’t wait for an answer.
Ryan hissed when Seth kissed that spot behind his knee, thigh muscles becoming steel under Seth’s hands. His leg pulled away when Seth licked him there, finding salt and heat, not an altogether unfamiliar taste, but different because it was Ryan he’d found it on, and Seth followed the source, licking it again. When Seth turned his eyes up, Ryan had his head raised off the couch, straining against gravity to see what Seth was going to do next. Seth hadn’t been planning, really, not tactically, anything to do, but Ryan’s cock was in his line of sight, kind of obstructing the view, and it was either freak out again, or do stuff to it.
“Want a hand?” Seth asked, in a voice utterly stolen from queer as folk-the uk version-and leaning his cheek against Ryan’s thigh, touched Ryan’s cock for the first time. He used just one finger, tracing the scar they’d left when they’d cut him as a baby.
Ryan’s head dropped to the couch, and he groaned.
Never one to turn down praise, Seth brought his whole hand into play, until he was holding Ryan’s cock loosely. Ryan thrust his hips at the lax resistance, and Seth watched it all curiously. Ryan’s stomach was sweating now, too; tiny drops of sweat slid into the hollow of his belly button, twitched out when Ryan thrust again, whimpering in frustration.
“Seth,” he said, impatiently. “Come on. Do something.”
“You’re so pushy,” Seth commented. “Anyone ever tell you that?”
At the head of the couch, Ryan bared his teeth. This was okay, touching Ryan like this, Seth decided, and tightened his fingers, pulling upward. This was fine, this wasn’t the end of the world, or worse, the end of their friendship, because if Ryan could be grumpy while getting his cock stroked, then everything was going to work out. In fact, it felt good to have Ryan’s cock in his hand, to make Ryan gasp and flex his hips. It felt really good to be the one making Ryan arch his neck at the ceiling while his teeth clenched together. It felt like relief to try and make Ryan come.
Seth got a rhythm going, and used everything he’d ever learned in the art of self-pleasuring-and he’d learned a lot-to get Ryan off. Soon Ryan was grunting after every stroke, holding onto the couch with both hands, and lifting his body into Seth’s hand, his cock fucking it, giving it all up to Seth.
“Oh. Jes-Seth. I’m-”
Seth looked up Ryan’s gleaming chest to find Ryan appealing to him with his eyes, his lips red and fat where he’d gnawed on them. Seth squeezed Ryan’s cock and Ryan’s head dropped down again, rolled to the side with a heartfelt groan, his cock spilling pre-cum down the side, over Seth’s fingers. For a moment Seth just watched him struggle, his body shuddering on the cushions, abdomen bunched and gleaming under the caging streetlight, and then he was leaning down, tipping Ryan’s cock toward his mouth. He kissed the head of Ryan’s dick softly, with pursed lips, and flinched back a second from the overwhelming taste of salt. Ryan choked above him, saliva gurgling in his throat.
“Please,” Ryan began begging nonsensically, his thighs clamping around Seth’s shoulders. “Please, suck me. Suck me. Do it, suck me, please, I. Seth.”
Seth’s jaw sagged open, and he felt desire cut him more deeply than it ever had before, his own cock stretching impossibly down the leg of his boxers as he listened to Ryan’s begging noises. Seth was just moving to comply, bracing himself against that taste, when Ryan’s hands were suddenly on the back of his skull, the ultimate sex sin, pulling Seth toward Ryan’s dick, but Seth didn’t mind. He’d started humping the couch with how little he minded, forget how awkward it was with his legs hanging over the end. He kissed Ryan’s cock again, Ryan’s fingertips pressing his scalp in frustration, and licked it, only a small lick, getting the taste all the way in his mouth. And then he opened his lips, and let the rubbery head inside, sipping.
Ryan froze. Seth pulled back until he was just holding Ryan’s cock in his hand again, and jerked him roughly, once.
“Fuck,” Ryan said, distinctly, with a thoughtful expression, and then his hips bucked up with all the brute force packed into his frame. All that brute force, in the shape of a pelvic bone, hit Seth directly in the eye, and Seth reeled back, literally seeing sparks. In the background somewhere, where the enormous pain was not, Ryan was coming loudly, making all kinds of sounds that Seth had never heard before and wasn’t really hearing now. Seth sat up on the other side of the couch, holding his eye, which seemed to throb in tune with Ryan’s gasps.
“Ow,” Seth said. “Ow, ow, ow.”
“Seth?” Ryan asked, sounding far too happy. He pushed himself into a sitting position and moved to Seth’s side, stroking his arm. “What’re you doing over here?”
Seth did not strangle him with the afghan, but it was a close thing.
*
“It’s not funny,” Ryan insisted. He’d pulled on his boxers, and had his head in the freezer, the muscles in his back shifting appealingly under the skin.
Seth hung his arms over the back of the chair, staring. He was a soft touch, and now that he could admit it, Ryan was way too hot to be mad at for long. When Ryan turned around, he paused, holding a bag of frozen peas, and Seth wondered what Ryan was seeing on his face, in his eyes. Whatever it was made Ryan lick his lips and step toward him cautiously, holding out the peas like a peace offering.
“It totally is.” Seth took the bag, wincing when he pressed it to his eye. “I mean, what am I gonna say here: I ran into a door knob? Knob. Heh.”
Ryan shook his head, crossing his arms. “You’re so juvenile.”
“Dude, Ryan, your cock just punched me out during my first blow job. If I don’t laugh right now, I might cry. Ow.” Seth took the bag off his face, frowning disgustedly at it. “Don’t we have any raw meat? That’s much more manly than frozen vegetables.”
“Oh, for-” Ryan rolled his eyes, and uncrossed his arms. “Come here, stand up. No, right over here, against the counter.”
Seth allowed himself to be dragged out of the chair and maneuvered to Ryan’s liking next to the refrigerator. Ryan stole the peas, and with one hand coming up to hold the side of Seth’s face firmly, he pressed the bag of peas to Seth’s sex-abused eye. It was bitingly cold, and it hurt, but the heat from Ryan’s other hand and his intent, worried expression balanced the pain out, sending a twist of blood to his heart that had it doing the mambo.
He hadn’t gotten his turn yet. He wanted his turn.
Ryan’s eyes flicked over his face, then away.
“What?” Seth asked.
“You’re staring at me.”
“So?”
Ryan shifted on his feet, looking at Seth from the corner of his eye.
“You don’t, usually.”
“Maybe I do,” Seth challenged, lifting his hands to Ryan’s hips and pulling him closer, so that their bare legs bumped together. “Maybe I stare at you, and you don’t know it.”
“I know, and you don’t.”
“How could you possibly know?”
“Because I stare at you,” Ryan said sharply. The streaks Seth had noticed under his eyes while he was sleeping were more apparent in the stove light. “I’ve always stared at you. And you’ve never been staring back.”
Seth opened his mouth to argue, but Ryan shook his head, pressing the bag of peas more firmly to Seth’s face. Seth shut his mouth. He used his good eye to watch the way Ryan carefully turned his attention to the peas, all but reading the side of the bag for instructions on avoiding Seth’s gaze. So. Seth sucked at being in love. He really sucked at being in love with a guy. But he was pretty good at being Ryan’s friend, and he had a pretty good idea what was going on inside Ryan’s head most of the time.
“You can’t punish me forever,” Seth said, and Ryan stiffened against him, his chest hitching with stuck air. “You’ve been dealing with this for a lot longer than me, and I know that pisses you off, but it’s not cool to punish me for it. And you totally have been, so shut up. I’ve been dealing with some other stuff. I’ve been repressed as hell, all right? I’ve got some serious issues that needed working out, and yeah, that left you do deal with us, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Are we done with that now?”
Ryan blinked twice. “Yes.”
“Good.” Seth stroked Ryan’s hips through his boxers, feeling the fabric slip over smooth, warm flesh. “Also, I did stare. You have a really awesome ass, Ryan. The awesomeness of your ass could never be challenged.”
Ryan smiled a little, just a curve of his lips. “Really?”
“Really. Your ass made me gay. Trust me on this.”
Ryan’s smile grew, and he tipped his face down to hide it. Seth had to hug him then, just a quick clutch with his arms crossing over Ryan’s back, before he pulled away, leaving their hips pressed together.
“So,” Seth said, face close to Ryan’s, “let’s have some more sex. Preferably without the violence, but hey, I’m easy. And horny.”
“I do have this fantasy,” Ryan said, and the hand that had been holding Seth’s face all this time dropped to Seth’s shoulder, then slid slowly down his arm. “It goes like...”
Seth’s eyes rolled back in his head when Ryan’s fingers brushed over the front of his boxers, and the erection that had never fully went away came back with a vengeance, came back with subtitles. It came back with its own franchise, and Seth made an undignified noise somewhere between a squeak and howl that immediately made Ryan laugh himself sick. He dropped his weight against Seth, unable to hold it alone, and the bag Ryan had managed to keep pressed to Seth’s eye finally slipped to the counter. The laughing was its own kind of torture. Every time Ryan laughed, his fingers would drag over Seth’s cock, and soon Seth was soaking the cloth with pre-cum, so aroused he could feel the blue in his cock, and was somehow driven to roll his eyes at the same time.
So far, he was decidedly Not Amused with his second gay encounter.
Deciding that he better do something before he got hit in the eye in another disturbingly sexual way, Seth pushed Ryan back a step, and kissed his laughing mouth.
“Mmph,” Ryan said. Their teeth clacked unpleasantly at first, lips mashing, and Seth was more aware than ever of how tall he was, but then Ryan grabbed either side of Seth’s head, and no kiss in the history of kisses had ever been as hot. Ryan’s tongue did things to Seth’s molars that Seth’s molars had never had done before. Seth hunched down, and hung on, and felt real tears prick his eyes when Ryan pushed on his shoulders.
“Hold on,” Ryan mumbled against his mouth.
“Don’t wanna,” Seth said, and dug his fingers hard into Ryan’s ass. Ryan shuddered and broke the kiss anyway, biting down the side of Seth’s neck, while his arms reached behind Seth, and moved around searchingly. Ryan’s mouth detached from Seth’s neck, and Seth whimpered at the ceiling, thinking unfair, taking away the gay sex when I’ve just started liking it, and Ryan leaned away from Seth, holding up the peas.
“Put this back on your eye.”
Seth stared at the peas, then at Ryan, then at the peas.
“That’s too kinky even for me.”
“Just do it.”
Ryan was serious, and Seth was horny, so Seth put the bag of peas against his eye, but he wasn’t about to do it without complaining. Just as he’d shaped into words all of the ways in which this was wrong and would warp him sexually, Ryan looped his fingers inside Seth’s boxers, and ripped them straight to Seth’s knees, dragging his teeth down Seth’s chest and stomach the whole way. The future ramifications of including frozen peas in a sex act ceased to matter. His boxers continued their descent unaided, settling around Seth’s ankles, and Ryan moved away from Seth’s stomach, to stare at Seth’s cock, standing between them in the absurdly insistent way phallic symbols everywhere tried to imitate.
Seth was sure they’d laugh about it later. They’d definitely laugh about the way the pink line Ryan had left on Seth’s torso seemed to offer directions. They weren’t laughing now. Ryan’s fingers were trembling on Seth’s hips, trembling to the frequency of the flickering stove light, and Seth felt his knees start to follow their lead, until he was wobbling against the counter. Ryan stayed crouched down there, Seth’s cock about an inch from his chin, and just kept looking.
“It’s, uh, I call him-”
Ryan suddenly looked up at his face, and Seth’s words choked off. Ryan held Seth’s good eye with the intensity he usually reserved for anger, and this was passion, this was the same thing, but different, and Seth was going to freak the fuck out if Ryan gave Seth’s brain ten more seconds to function.
“I’ll stop if you take the peas away from your eye,” Ryan warned.
Seth nodded hurriedly. Ryan didn’t give Seth ten seconds.
His fingers dug into Seth’s hips, and his mouth parted, creating a dark, welcoming space as he leaned forward, closing that inch gap. Seth’s brain said a cheerful farewell, and then his cock was in charge, reveling in the moisture of Ryan’s breath misting over it. When Ryan’s mouth followed after, lips dragging over the skin on Seth’s dick, Seth squeezed the peas tight against his eye, decidedly not caring about weird sexual kinks. Ryan’s eyes slipped shut, and his tongue came out, ghosting along Seth’s cock teasingly, with a hungry sound that vibrated from his mouth to Seth’s cock, making him hiss. Seth wasn’t psychic or anything, but he didn’t have to be to understand the expression on Ryan’s face. Ryan wanted this. Ryan liked this. Seth’s cock was getting Ryan hot.
There was a rumble, from the back of Ryan’s throat, and then Seth was crying out, because Ryan had just taken Seth halfway inside, real quick, with a single diving motion. Seth’s left foot lifted off the kitchen floor, kicking out spasmodically, like a dog with a really beautiful itch, and just like that, Ryan was sucking Seth’s cock. He took it like a pro, too, like he’d thought about this before. He had all the specifics-the hows, and the technical problems-down. He sucked Seth like he’d been thinking about how Seth would want it.
Seth moaned when Ryan reached into the slit of his boxers and took his own cock out, started to jack it quick and hard, the rhythm he’d created on Seth’s dick stuttering only a little, before the two motions were in sync. He couldn’t decide which he wanted to see more: Ryan’s pumping hand or Ryan’s stretched mouth. His hips bucked helplessly, lost in the confused rush of pleasure. Ryan made a gagging noise and backed off until only the tip remained in his mouth, one hand holding Seth’s hip motionless.
“Sorry,” Seth said shakily.
Ryan’s eyes turned up to him, and he shook his head as much as he could without causing permanent injury. Around Seth’s cock, one corner of his mouth lifted.
My boyfriend has the smile of a pool shark, Seth thought inanely, and then Ryan grabbed Seth’s ass, pulling Seth forward, all the way into his mouth. Seth nearly dropped the peas, but he got with the program with enthusiasm, groaning and pushing forward like Ryan wanted him to, good eye blurrily focused on the calendar on the opposite wall. He noticed hazily that Ryan hadn’t changed the month, like the date had gotten stuck on the day Seth left, but his brain couldn’t work out what that meant.
Ryan’s hand left Seth’s ass, moved down so he could use both hands on himself, thrusting into the cup of his fists. He let Seth do all the work, fuck his mouth, and groaned a little, a harsh crackle of sensation along Seth’s cock, and Seth was coming hard, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that random sparks of light appeared on the lids.
The peas fell to the floor with a splat.
Ryan didn’t even make good on his threat to stop. He swallowed, and jerked himself hard, and swallowed again, coming into the hand he’d cupped around the head of his cock. Seth’s orgasm was three convulsive thrusts in length, and it rattled the silverware in the drawer like it rattled the brain in Seth’s head. It just rattled him.
Afterwards, Ryan rested his face against Seth’s damp hip, and Seth’s hands, which at some point had grabbed the back of Ryan’s skull, gentled, fitting to the bumpy, uneven shape of Ryan’s head. The air panted out of Ryan’s nose, blowing over Seth’s skin. Seth leaned back, feeling dizzy in his slump against the counter, watching in dumbfounded amazement his own fingers combing through Ryan’s hair.
Ryan’s eyes turned up to Seth, filled with everything Seth never wanted to lose, not ever, and that was about the time Seth’s knees started to shake again, and then his stomach, and then everywhere. Next, the world.
“You scream like a girl,” Ryan whispered, “and you dropped the peas.”
Seth touched Ryan’s mouth and said nothing.
*
Seth brushed his teeth without looking at himself in the mirror, afraid a time-warp might pop out, giant rabbit-shaped, to drag him back in time, and he’d have go through everything all over again. He was standing in the same spot Ryan had ambushed him in, using the same toothbrush, maybe wearing the same boxers, and if Ryan came through that door again, looking ready to start a war, Seth was going to fight him off with the toothpaste and the toothbrush, because he so did not need to repeat history.
Some things you wanted to do over, and some things you just wanted done.
Ryan didn’t come through the door. It was possible that Seth had watched Donnie Darko one too many times. Returning his toothbrush to its slot next to Ryan’s, Seth continued to avoid the mirror, and turned off the light in the bathroom.
Crossing the nook, he paused in the center between his room, and Ryan’s. His own door was standing open enough for Seth to see that Ryan had cleaned up the disaster Seth had left, stacked all the boxes tidily, put a fresh sheet on the bed. He’d even put Seth’s posters back on the wall. The idea of Ryan standing in Seth’s room, carefully pushing the tacks through the paneling, made Seth pull the door shut and turn away.
Ryan was already in bed when Seth draped himself over Ryan’s doorway, sitting up with the blanket to his waist, one corner flipped down invitingly. He shifted when he saw Seth, crossing and uncrossing his arms, before finally dropping his loosely-balled fists to the mattress, knees tenting the blanket. It was a deceptively unthreatening pose, but Seth wasn’t fooled now that he knew what Ryan could do with that body.
“I don’t think I should ever see Donnie Darko again,” Seth said.
“I’ll throw away the dvd tomorrow,” Ryan promised without a blink.
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Uh-huh.”
Seth tilted his head, looked around. Ryan’s room was more like Seth’s than Seth’s currently was: used dishes sitting around unwashed, toppled books still toppled, laundry all over the floor. The laundry basket was by Seth’s feet, and obviously hadn’t been used because it was busy doubling as a recycling bin for beer cans. Lifting one of the cans out of the basket, Seth held it up for both of them to see. Exhibit A.
“I really did a number on you, huh?”
Ryan’s eyes veered sideways. “I don’t usually...”
“I know. I’d be flattered, if I didn’t feel so bad.”
“I’m not my mom.”
“You’re not,” Seth agreed placidly. “I’d never kiss your mom.”
Seth tossed the can in the basket, and stayed in the doorway for too long, long enough that it became a big deal. They’d been kissing in the kitchen when they’d yawned into each other’s mouth, nearly at the same time, and Ryan had suggested that they go to bed, together, in his room, because his bed was bigger. It definitely had size on its side, but it also had Ryan in it, and this was really it. They’d either make it work, or they wouldn’t, and there was no giant-rabbit waiting around to turn back time. Seth couldn’t think of an appropriate song for this moment that didn’t involve dying.
“You coming?” Ryan asked, sounding resigned, like he expected a fight.
Seth pushed off the doorway with his shoulder. Ryan’s eyebrows jumped in surprise, then he quickly scooted down until he was on his back on the blue sheet, with his arm stretched across the open side of the bed. Seth kneed his way up the mattress, mind blank. Lying down on his side, his back to Ryan, Seth accidentally trapped his arm under him, but his heart was pounding in his ear drums, and he didn’t move. Silently, Ryan pulled the covers over them both, cocooning them in cotton blend. Under the fabric, his arm slid over Seth’s ribs like a bridge being built, and warm fingertips pressing on Seth’s stomach encouraged Seth to fit himself more fully against the question mark of Ryan’s torso. As they moved closer together, Seth’s arm slipped out from underneath him, and Seth could breath again.
Pant. Hyperventilate.
When they were settled, Ryan sighed, drawn-out, exhaling on the nape of Seth’s neck. Seth wiggled at the sensation, and then stilled, trying deep breathing exercises. He was zen. He was totally zen. Or not. Holy fuck. He was going to have a heart attack.
“Comfortable?” Ryan asked, warmly, close to Seth’s ear.
Seth nodded. The light was still on, burning yellow over Ryan’s hand, lying close to Seth’s eyes on the pillow; it smelled like cigarette smoke. Seth was as comfortable as he could be when all in one day he’d come to terms with his sexuality, Ryan’s sexuality, his relationship with Summer, and the strange gift he had of driving perfectly sober people to alcohol and lung cancer. Oh, and he’d enjoyed the hell out of gay sex.
“You’re shaking .” Ryan’s stomach moved against Seth’s back. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Seth said, his teeth chattering. “Big coward here. Just give me a minute and I’ll stop freaking out. While we’re waiting, need any paint mixed?”
Ryan laughed into Seth’s neck, arm tightening around him convulsively. Seth turned his ear toward the sound, chin rasping over Ryan’s hair, catching strands, and his teeth stopped chattering, even if the shaking didn’t go away completely. He’d made Ryan happy, and abruptly, like a wave tumbling over itself, or two sides of a hemp necklace being linked together, he realized why he was willing to change his whole world. It wasn’t just about his sexual identity, or becoming what those guys in high school had called him, or even about bowing to the superior wisdom of his friends and family. It was this, right here, shuddering with laughter against him. Ryan was why.
Cool.
Carefully, Seth grasped Ryan’s forearm, pulling until it was hooked under his own armpit. He had to deal with Ryan’s pointy elbow sticking him in the chest, but it was worth it to be able to slide Ryan’s smokey-hand under his cheek, rest his face on that roughly-defined palm. Ryan’s fingertips curved around Seth’s cheekbone, and when the laughter ended, the feeling didn’t.
“I think you’re brave,” Ryan whispered after Seth’s shaking had stopped.
Seth grinned quietly at Ryan’s palm.
*
The lady in 2C moved out. Noise pollution, she said.
Seth waved at her frowning visage from the safety of his doorway as she lugged her stuff down the stairs with help from one of her sons. Maybe someone would drop a couch on her. In the background, Ryan was watching the game, loudly, and he hollered for Seth when his team scored, like Seth actually gave a damn. Seth rolled his eyes, and pulled back into the apartment, closing the door.
The rusted gold letters shook, and continued to droop, but didn’t fall off.
THE END
A/N: Wow, okay, so the ride is finally over. I’m sorry for being such a slow writer, seriously, but I kept wanting to expand the story beyond its natural life, explore Seth’s head more. I guess I’ll just have to write more fic to do that, huh? Thank you for everyone that gave me feedback while I edited this, and re-wrote this, and re-wrote that, hated it, and loved it, etc., etc., etc. If I didn’t reply to your feedback, I did appreciate it, and I promise I will this time. Cross my heart.
The O.C., Seth/Ryan, NC-17.
Slash, Long, Future Fic.
Summary
Seth Cohen: twenty years old, unspecified major, neurotic mess.
Disclaimer
Not mine, no money, don’t sue, yadda, yadda, you know the drill.
Notes
This is set while Ryan and Seth are attending an unspecified college together, and likely to be made AU in the next couple of years. Also, I began writing this before a lot of the events of mid-season two took place (then took a long break from it, before returning recently), so it’s already AU in some ways.
Go Back To Part One, Part Two, Part Three A, Part Three B
Cowardly Acts 4/4, by Fabella
Newport Beach was quiet at night. Seth’s car wasn’t the only one on the road, but compared to Los Angeles around this hour, this felt like he was driving through a ghost town. The stop lights went through their rotation of guiding colors, but seemed sort of lonely, hanging around up there with no one to pay attention. The stores he passed were closed, lights turned off, while the apartments above were lit up, with only a few hollow spots where the windows remained dark. Ryan was probably half way home by now, talking himself in and out of calling to see if Seth had changed his mind.
Seth hadn’t, but he kept driving in circles anyway, haunting his old life.
As far as metaphors went, the car one had been pretty cool, but using a car as a metaphor didn’t get Seth to class. When he’d told Ryan that he was going to drive himself after all, Ryan had paused with his hand lifting the passenger door handle, face serious above the roof of the car. The war to trust tore a line of emotion across Ryan’s mouth, and Seth had fought off guilt, knowing he was right, until finally, Ryan stretched his arm across the roof, palm facing up, and Seth had tossed the keys to him.
“I’ll see you at home,” Seth had said, and Ryan stared at him, holding the keys tightly in one fist. “I promise. I’ll be there.”
Watching Ryan walk around to the driver’s side and get in, his steps halting, had been some of the hardest thirty seconds Seth had ever gone through, because he knew what was going on in Ryan’s head; if there was one thing Seth understood, it was the power of one’s own neuroses. Yet, he’d let Ryan get in, drive off, because something had still been off, a part of him nearly glad Ryan was going. It felt like half of him was in love with Ryan and half of him wasn’t, and the two parts of him, the two *hims*, hadn’t shaken hands yet. Ryan’s tail lights had left streaks of red over Seth’s eyes long after Ryan was gone. Seth had climbed into his own car and sat there for a minute, hands on the steering wheel, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He sucked at being in love.
Now, driving through his old town, his speed kept dropping, until he found himself pulling over at the pier, shutting the motor off. His headlights clicked off along with the rest of the car, leaving the beach shadowed past the fence, the ocean a dark line meeting the sky, and Seth unbuckled his belt cautiously, not sure what he was doing. When he opened the car door, the salty breeze hit him square in the face, and he sucked in a breath, his hair pressed flat to his forehead.
“Ryan’s in love with me,” he tried, testing the words.
No. Not right, not yet.
The beach was as abandoned as the town had appeared. Only a few teenagers were hanging around tonight, and they’d gathered around a fire some distance down the beach, oblivious to the dark shape untying the knots in his shoe laces, removing his socks, leaving the whole mess piled haphazardly together on the pavement as he hopped over the fence, onto the sand. It was cold where his toes sank deeper, and Seth walked toward the ocean, stopping at the edge of it, where the water couldn’t reach him as it heaved forward.
He’d grown up here, in this beautiful, sprawling town, and he’d hated every minute of it until Ryan had come. One night, he’d gone to bed thinking, holy shit, there’s a convict sleeping in my pool house, and he’d had a hard time sleeping, because convicts and pool houses did not make a good mix for a kid who’d been stuffed in one too many lockers. The next morning, the convict had opened up the door, letting the breeze in, and his name had been Ryan, and he’d had wary eyes, a slept-on face, and bare, yellow shoulders. Seth had swallowed the sea of saliva that suddenly filled his mouth, and asked this Ryan guy if he wanted to play, expecting, in the back of his mind, a sneaker full of piss.
But Ryan had crossed the floor, sat down beside him, and picked up the second player controller that had only ever been held by Seth’s dad.
Christ, Seth thought, shutting his eyes. He scared the shit out of me.
He still does.
Sitting down on a lump of sand, Seth stretched his legs out, and relaxed. Dark water tumbled over itself, swallowing its own parts and changing. Always moving, the water was constantly becoming something new, with only parts of its old self. Seth didn’t know why he’d come here or what he’d expected to find. On this same beach, Ryan had saved Seth from getting his ass kicked, and broken Seth’s heart when he said he was leaving, all within the first year they’d known each other. The water moved, stretching over itself, and Seth leaned back, putting his elbows in the sand, watching.
He remained reclining like that for some time, calmly picking out pieces of himself that he’d purposely misplaced and rearranging them in a new pattern. The sound of laughter carried to him from down the beach, but Seth didn’t turn to see the figures circling the fire. When the water sloshed over his feet, a change in tide, Seth dropped onto his back in the sand, and stayed like that until the cell phone in his pocket started to vibrate insistently against his thigh. He brought it out with a sigh and stared at the blue-lit face, surprised when he didn’t see his home number staring back at him. Hesitantly, he answered.
“Hey, Summer.”
“So I called your parents,” she immediately started, her voice like the snap of chewing gum. “And they said you’d left with Ryan a couple of hours ago, so I called your place, to thank you for not being a dumbass, give some positive reinforcement, but guess what? He said you weren’t there.”
“I will be,” Seth said. “I’m doing some soul searching.”
“Seth, your soul is too shallow to search.”
Seth didn’t laugh. He stared at the stars, untouched by clouds.
“Wow,” Summer said after a minute, her voice soft. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Seth said. “I’m gay.”
Summer was quiet for a while. Seth listened to her breathing on the other end, and remembered her breath in his ear as he slipped inside her, the warm grasp of her arms around his neck, the slip of her foot up his leg. But the memory was distant. It was fading. It was the sand under his shoulders, and he couldn’t hold onto it forever.
“I kinda figured,” she said eventually.
Seth picked up a handful of sand, and let it slip through his fingers, waiting for her to speak to him. If he’d done that more, maybe they’d still be together.
“You want me to call Ryan?” she asked. “I could tell him you’re taking the scenic route.”
“No,” Seth said. “I’m almost done here. You know I loved you, right? I mean, a lot of the good stuff about me, that came from you.”
“Cohen,” she said harshly, and no one but Seth would have noticed the waver in her voice, a wobble near the end of his name. “If you make me cry, I’m going to find you, and...” She trailed off. There was a skin-against-skin sound, like she was covering her mouth, holding back for a moment, pulling herself in. A strong star winked at Seth, before it became lost among all the others. “The same here, all right? Now go home to your boyfriend.”
With that, the line went dead. Seth listened to the dial tone until a recording of the operator came on, and then he shut the phone off, folding it back up and sticking it in his pocket. In his other hand, the last few grains of sand detached from his skin.
“I’m in love with Ryan,” he tried.
That sounded about right.
*
The apartment was dark when Seth opened the door. Only the light above the stove was on, and it flickered dimly when Seth shut the door behind him. He left his bag by the kitchen table and toed off his shoes, looking around. The place was spotless, not nearly the wreck Summer had described, but little things were out of place, here and there, and there was a box in front of the sink, overflowing with dented beer cans. Seth went over to it and nudged it with his toes, making the bottles at the bottom clink together noisily.
In the living room, the television was off, and the blinds were pulled down, but there was enough light from the street for Seth to see Ryan’s body stretched across the couch, still fully dressed, but asleep, rectangles of light across his slack face. He’d pulled an afghan over himself at some point. His feet stuck out at the bottom, and even then, the afghan only covered to mid-chest. Seth hesitated, caught between going straight to bed and dealing with everything in the morning, and wanting to stop Ryan’s soft shivering with the warmth he could feel building in his own body.
Ryan made a sound, something soft and hurt, and his foot twitched.
Seth walked over and crouched beside the couch, where he could feel the heat of Ryan’s body seeping away into the chillier night air. Up close, even in the dark, Seth could see the lines of stress around Ryan’s eyes, the tired streaks under them. Lifting a hand, he reached out, let his fingers drift over the fragile skin above Ryan’s cheekbone, and Ryan flinched in his sleep, mumbling something about pudding. Seth smiled, and let his fingers drift further, combing back through Ryan’s fine hair. The intention to kiss Ryan came to Seth fully formed, as an immediate need. Heart pounding, Seth leaned forward, and rubbed his mouth across Ryan’s softly, barely a kiss at all. He tasted the pudding Ryan must have had before going to sleep.
When he pulled back, Ryan’s eyes were open and startlingly clear.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Seth whispered, moving his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “I had a few things to take care of.”
Ryan’s mouth was unsmiling and soft. Seth withdrew his hand from Ryan’s hair and grazed a thumb across Ryan’s bottom lip, feeling the soft indent at the center, before following the pouting curve to the corner, where it was wet with saliva. Seth leaned forward to taste that wet space, but Ryan’s hand thudded against his chest, holding him off.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Seth rocked away, and covered Ryan’s hand with his own. It felt familiar, the intimacy of this connection, Ryan’s palm over his thundering heart.
“I really do,” Seth said, and still holding Ryan’s hand, kissed him again.
Ryan’s lips opened immediately, and the kiss went deeper, grew wetter, until Seth could feel Ryan’s panting breath in his mouth, and he realized he was hard, aching under his jeans. Pushing one hand against himself to hold off the pain, he twisted his mouth over Ryan’s, kissing him harder, using his teeth. Ryan arched into the kiss, his hand coming up to hold the back of Seth’s neck, nails digging in.
Ryan tugged on Seth with his other hand, pulling him forward from under his arm, and Seth half stood. He crawled part of the way onto the couch, still awkwardly maintaining the contact between their mouths, and Ryan pulled out of the kiss with a damp sound, lying down all the way. The hand on Seth’s neck moved to Seth’s other side, and he tugged again, harder, pulling Seth up and over him. Seth hazed out for an instant, went to that white place where the pleasure was so sharp it short-circuited his brain, and when he came to, he was sprawled over all of Ryan like the afghan hadn’t been able to. The afghan in question was bunched between their bellies, their hips wedged together, legs entwined.
Ryan’s pupils were thrown wide open and glittered up at Seth, his head framed by Seth’s forearms. Seth tried to catch his breath, but the sight of Ryan wasn’t helping, staring up at Seth with his eyes half-closed, and his mouth half-open. His palms definitely weren’t for Seth’s oxygen needs, now that they were smoothing from Seth’s sides to his hips. When Ryan tugged again, this time on Seth’s hips, Seth stopped caring about oxygen.
Seth shifted, putting more weight on his arms, and uncertainly pressed his hips forward. Ryan bit his lip, fingers clenching on the waist of Seth’s jeans, and lifted against Seth’s weight, pushing. The next time Seth thrust, it was with a little more certainty, and soon they were rubbing their cocks together through their jeans hard and fast enough that it hurt, and Seth was sure he was going to suffer twin permanent impressions of zippers on the underside of his dick.
“I gotta,” Ryan started, and grunted, his hands letting go of Seth’s ass to push his hips away, and Seth went emo, having serious angst problems, true emotional pain, until he realized that Ryan’s hands were busy between them, unbuttoning and unzipping both pairs of jeans with amazing speed.
“Oh, fuck,” Seth hissed, when Ryan’s knuckles bumped his erection, “I think I’m dying, Ryan. I think my heart just stopped.”
“I think you’ll live,” Ryan said. And then he slid his hand inside Seth’s jeans, fingers curling around Seth’s cock. If Seth had been a cartoon, his eyes would have jumped out of his head. As it was, steam felt like it was coming from his ears.
“No, I’m definitely going to die. Tell my mother I love her.”
Ryan’s grasping fingers relaxed. “Did you just mention your mother during a handjob?” Seth opened his mouth to answer. “Never mind. Take off your pants.”
“You broke my brain, I can’t,” he complained, but he pushed himself backwards until he was on the other side of the couch. Ryan had bent his legs to give Seth room, and he was shimmying out of his pants while on his back, and honestly, how could Ryan expect Seth to do anything under these conditions?
“Pants,” Ryan gasped, trying to untangle the jeans from around his ankles. “Get them off or we fuck with them on.”
As a threat, that had lacked the right incentive, but the jean fabric had started to chafe his groin, so for once, Seth did as he was told, pushing the pants down to his ankles, before kicking them off, removing his shirt while he was at it. Looking over, he found Ryan waiting, shirt off now as well, only his boxers left. Saliva flooded Seth’s mouth. His gaze wandered from Ryan’s hard face to the smooth flesh of his chest. Small nipples punctuated Ryan’s pecs, and a light sprinkling of hair disappeared then abruptly returned under the wink of his belly button. Seth had seen all of this before, but if he was really going to do this, he would have to do more than see it.
As if reading Seth’s mind, Ryan’s fingers moved to the top of his boxers, and he slowly hooked the elastic waist away from his stomach. Disbelieving, Seth watched Ryan lift his ass, push the boxers down to his knees, his cock dark with blood and shadows, landing heavily on his muscled abdomen. Oh, right. Cock. Guys had cocks.
Ryan spread his legs wider and brought one hand up, sliding it across the underside of his cock, pressing the swollen flesh flat to his stomach.
“Still want to do this?” he asked, with a strange, cement expression.
Seth nodded, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he tried to speak and failed. Ryan’s face melted, and his body seemed to go liquid. His hand moved over himself again, down toward his balls, where they were tightly drawn under his cock, with short, dark-blonde hair covering them. Seth cleared his throat, all recently flooded parts gone mysteriously dry, and tried again to speak.
“I don’t. I don’t know how. Could you-”
Seth broke off, his hand sliding over his own thigh uselessly.
Ryan’s eyes closed for an instant, his grasp tightening. The sound he made-a long, drawn out groan that faded at the end where he sucked the noise back inside, attempting to contain it-made Seth’s cock throb, his heart pump harder, filling his body with excited blood.
“Just touch me,” Ryan grated, his eyes opening slowly. “You didn’t last time.”
Nervously, Seth brushed his fingertips over Ryan’s ankle. Ryan’s toes flexed, the bone under Seth’s touch shifting, and Ryan probably hadn’t meant for Seth to touch him *there*, but it was closest, and the hairs there were very fine and sparse. Seth thought it was a good place to start. Ryan had a nice ankle. Two very nice ankles.
“Nice ankles,” Seth said.
“Um, thanks.” Ryan shifted, pulling his hand away from his cock and clenching it at his side on top of the afghan. “I like your ankles, too.”
Seth ran his hand up Ryan’s bent leg, feeling the curve of strong muscle, the soft covering of hair as it thickened. Ryan had nice legs, too, not silky and petite like Summer’s had been, but smooth and solid, the strength of them defined under the ridge of veins, the lived in rise of scars. The skin was slightly damp where Seth’s fingers bumped against the underside of Ryan’s thigh, the inside of Ryan’s knee sweating. Seth turned his body all the way toward Ryan, and crawled forward until he was kneeling between the V of Ryan’s open legs. He put his hands on Ryan’s thighs to steady himself, and Ryan’s stomach jerked, his nostrils flaring.
“So just do what I want here, right?”
Seth didn’t wait for an answer.
Ryan hissed when Seth kissed that spot behind his knee, thigh muscles becoming steel under Seth’s hands. His leg pulled away when Seth licked him there, finding salt and heat, not an altogether unfamiliar taste, but different because it was Ryan he’d found it on, and Seth followed the source, licking it again. When Seth turned his eyes up, Ryan had his head raised off the couch, straining against gravity to see what Seth was going to do next. Seth hadn’t been planning, really, not tactically, anything to do, but Ryan’s cock was in his line of sight, kind of obstructing the view, and it was either freak out again, or do stuff to it.
“Want a hand?” Seth asked, in a voice utterly stolen from queer as folk-the uk version-and leaning his cheek against Ryan’s thigh, touched Ryan’s cock for the first time. He used just one finger, tracing the scar they’d left when they’d cut him as a baby.
Ryan’s head dropped to the couch, and he groaned.
Never one to turn down praise, Seth brought his whole hand into play, until he was holding Ryan’s cock loosely. Ryan thrust his hips at the lax resistance, and Seth watched it all curiously. Ryan’s stomach was sweating now, too; tiny drops of sweat slid into the hollow of his belly button, twitched out when Ryan thrust again, whimpering in frustration.
“Seth,” he said, impatiently. “Come on. Do something.”
“You’re so pushy,” Seth commented. “Anyone ever tell you that?”
At the head of the couch, Ryan bared his teeth. This was okay, touching Ryan like this, Seth decided, and tightened his fingers, pulling upward. This was fine, this wasn’t the end of the world, or worse, the end of their friendship, because if Ryan could be grumpy while getting his cock stroked, then everything was going to work out. In fact, it felt good to have Ryan’s cock in his hand, to make Ryan gasp and flex his hips. It felt really good to be the one making Ryan arch his neck at the ceiling while his teeth clenched together. It felt like relief to try and make Ryan come.
Seth got a rhythm going, and used everything he’d ever learned in the art of self-pleasuring-and he’d learned a lot-to get Ryan off. Soon Ryan was grunting after every stroke, holding onto the couch with both hands, and lifting his body into Seth’s hand, his cock fucking it, giving it all up to Seth.
“Oh. Jes-Seth. I’m-”
Seth looked up Ryan’s gleaming chest to find Ryan appealing to him with his eyes, his lips red and fat where he’d gnawed on them. Seth squeezed Ryan’s cock and Ryan’s head dropped down again, rolled to the side with a heartfelt groan, his cock spilling pre-cum down the side, over Seth’s fingers. For a moment Seth just watched him struggle, his body shuddering on the cushions, abdomen bunched and gleaming under the caging streetlight, and then he was leaning down, tipping Ryan’s cock toward his mouth. He kissed the head of Ryan’s dick softly, with pursed lips, and flinched back a second from the overwhelming taste of salt. Ryan choked above him, saliva gurgling in his throat.
“Please,” Ryan began begging nonsensically, his thighs clamping around Seth’s shoulders. “Please, suck me. Suck me. Do it, suck me, please, I. Seth.”
Seth’s jaw sagged open, and he felt desire cut him more deeply than it ever had before, his own cock stretching impossibly down the leg of his boxers as he listened to Ryan’s begging noises. Seth was just moving to comply, bracing himself against that taste, when Ryan’s hands were suddenly on the back of his skull, the ultimate sex sin, pulling Seth toward Ryan’s dick, but Seth didn’t mind. He’d started humping the couch with how little he minded, forget how awkward it was with his legs hanging over the end. He kissed Ryan’s cock again, Ryan’s fingertips pressing his scalp in frustration, and licked it, only a small lick, getting the taste all the way in his mouth. And then he opened his lips, and let the rubbery head inside, sipping.
Ryan froze. Seth pulled back until he was just holding Ryan’s cock in his hand again, and jerked him roughly, once.
“Fuck,” Ryan said, distinctly, with a thoughtful expression, and then his hips bucked up with all the brute force packed into his frame. All that brute force, in the shape of a pelvic bone, hit Seth directly in the eye, and Seth reeled back, literally seeing sparks. In the background somewhere, where the enormous pain was not, Ryan was coming loudly, making all kinds of sounds that Seth had never heard before and wasn’t really hearing now. Seth sat up on the other side of the couch, holding his eye, which seemed to throb in tune with Ryan’s gasps.
“Ow,” Seth said. “Ow, ow, ow.”
“Seth?” Ryan asked, sounding far too happy. He pushed himself into a sitting position and moved to Seth’s side, stroking his arm. “What’re you doing over here?”
Seth did not strangle him with the afghan, but it was a close thing.
*
“It’s not funny,” Ryan insisted. He’d pulled on his boxers, and had his head in the freezer, the muscles in his back shifting appealingly under the skin.
Seth hung his arms over the back of the chair, staring. He was a soft touch, and now that he could admit it, Ryan was way too hot to be mad at for long. When Ryan turned around, he paused, holding a bag of frozen peas, and Seth wondered what Ryan was seeing on his face, in his eyes. Whatever it was made Ryan lick his lips and step toward him cautiously, holding out the peas like a peace offering.
“It totally is.” Seth took the bag, wincing when he pressed it to his eye. “I mean, what am I gonna say here: I ran into a door knob? Knob. Heh.”
Ryan shook his head, crossing his arms. “You’re so juvenile.”
“Dude, Ryan, your cock just punched me out during my first blow job. If I don’t laugh right now, I might cry. Ow.” Seth took the bag off his face, frowning disgustedly at it. “Don’t we have any raw meat? That’s much more manly than frozen vegetables.”
“Oh, for-” Ryan rolled his eyes, and uncrossed his arms. “Come here, stand up. No, right over here, against the counter.”
Seth allowed himself to be dragged out of the chair and maneuvered to Ryan’s liking next to the refrigerator. Ryan stole the peas, and with one hand coming up to hold the side of Seth’s face firmly, he pressed the bag of peas to Seth’s sex-abused eye. It was bitingly cold, and it hurt, but the heat from Ryan’s other hand and his intent, worried expression balanced the pain out, sending a twist of blood to his heart that had it doing the mambo.
He hadn’t gotten his turn yet. He wanted his turn.
Ryan’s eyes flicked over his face, then away.
“What?” Seth asked.
“You’re staring at me.”
“So?”
Ryan shifted on his feet, looking at Seth from the corner of his eye.
“You don’t, usually.”
“Maybe I do,” Seth challenged, lifting his hands to Ryan’s hips and pulling him closer, so that their bare legs bumped together. “Maybe I stare at you, and you don’t know it.”
“I know, and you don’t.”
“How could you possibly know?”
“Because I stare at you,” Ryan said sharply. The streaks Seth had noticed under his eyes while he was sleeping were more apparent in the stove light. “I’ve always stared at you. And you’ve never been staring back.”
Seth opened his mouth to argue, but Ryan shook his head, pressing the bag of peas more firmly to Seth’s face. Seth shut his mouth. He used his good eye to watch the way Ryan carefully turned his attention to the peas, all but reading the side of the bag for instructions on avoiding Seth’s gaze. So. Seth sucked at being in love. He really sucked at being in love with a guy. But he was pretty good at being Ryan’s friend, and he had a pretty good idea what was going on inside Ryan’s head most of the time.
“You can’t punish me forever,” Seth said, and Ryan stiffened against him, his chest hitching with stuck air. “You’ve been dealing with this for a lot longer than me, and I know that pisses you off, but it’s not cool to punish me for it. And you totally have been, so shut up. I’ve been dealing with some other stuff. I’ve been repressed as hell, all right? I’ve got some serious issues that needed working out, and yeah, that left you do deal with us, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Are we done with that now?”
Ryan blinked twice. “Yes.”
“Good.” Seth stroked Ryan’s hips through his boxers, feeling the fabric slip over smooth, warm flesh. “Also, I did stare. You have a really awesome ass, Ryan. The awesomeness of your ass could never be challenged.”
Ryan smiled a little, just a curve of his lips. “Really?”
“Really. Your ass made me gay. Trust me on this.”
Ryan’s smile grew, and he tipped his face down to hide it. Seth had to hug him then, just a quick clutch with his arms crossing over Ryan’s back, before he pulled away, leaving their hips pressed together.
“So,” Seth said, face close to Ryan’s, “let’s have some more sex. Preferably without the violence, but hey, I’m easy. And horny.”
“I do have this fantasy,” Ryan said, and the hand that had been holding Seth’s face all this time dropped to Seth’s shoulder, then slid slowly down his arm. “It goes like...”
Seth’s eyes rolled back in his head when Ryan’s fingers brushed over the front of his boxers, and the erection that had never fully went away came back with a vengeance, came back with subtitles. It came back with its own franchise, and Seth made an undignified noise somewhere between a squeak and howl that immediately made Ryan laugh himself sick. He dropped his weight against Seth, unable to hold it alone, and the bag Ryan had managed to keep pressed to Seth’s eye finally slipped to the counter. The laughing was its own kind of torture. Every time Ryan laughed, his fingers would drag over Seth’s cock, and soon Seth was soaking the cloth with pre-cum, so aroused he could feel the blue in his cock, and was somehow driven to roll his eyes at the same time.
So far, he was decidedly Not Amused with his second gay encounter.
Deciding that he better do something before he got hit in the eye in another disturbingly sexual way, Seth pushed Ryan back a step, and kissed his laughing mouth.
“Mmph,” Ryan said. Their teeth clacked unpleasantly at first, lips mashing, and Seth was more aware than ever of how tall he was, but then Ryan grabbed either side of Seth’s head, and no kiss in the history of kisses had ever been as hot. Ryan’s tongue did things to Seth’s molars that Seth’s molars had never had done before. Seth hunched down, and hung on, and felt real tears prick his eyes when Ryan pushed on his shoulders.
“Hold on,” Ryan mumbled against his mouth.
“Don’t wanna,” Seth said, and dug his fingers hard into Ryan’s ass. Ryan shuddered and broke the kiss anyway, biting down the side of Seth’s neck, while his arms reached behind Seth, and moved around searchingly. Ryan’s mouth detached from Seth’s neck, and Seth whimpered at the ceiling, thinking unfair, taking away the gay sex when I’ve just started liking it, and Ryan leaned away from Seth, holding up the peas.
“Put this back on your eye.”
Seth stared at the peas, then at Ryan, then at the peas.
“That’s too kinky even for me.”
“Just do it.”
Ryan was serious, and Seth was horny, so Seth put the bag of peas against his eye, but he wasn’t about to do it without complaining. Just as he’d shaped into words all of the ways in which this was wrong and would warp him sexually, Ryan looped his fingers inside Seth’s boxers, and ripped them straight to Seth’s knees, dragging his teeth down Seth’s chest and stomach the whole way. The future ramifications of including frozen peas in a sex act ceased to matter. His boxers continued their descent unaided, settling around Seth’s ankles, and Ryan moved away from Seth’s stomach, to stare at Seth’s cock, standing between them in the absurdly insistent way phallic symbols everywhere tried to imitate.
Seth was sure they’d laugh about it later. They’d definitely laugh about the way the pink line Ryan had left on Seth’s torso seemed to offer directions. They weren’t laughing now. Ryan’s fingers were trembling on Seth’s hips, trembling to the frequency of the flickering stove light, and Seth felt his knees start to follow their lead, until he was wobbling against the counter. Ryan stayed crouched down there, Seth’s cock about an inch from his chin, and just kept looking.
“It’s, uh, I call him-”
Ryan suddenly looked up at his face, and Seth’s words choked off. Ryan held Seth’s good eye with the intensity he usually reserved for anger, and this was passion, this was the same thing, but different, and Seth was going to freak the fuck out if Ryan gave Seth’s brain ten more seconds to function.
“I’ll stop if you take the peas away from your eye,” Ryan warned.
Seth nodded hurriedly. Ryan didn’t give Seth ten seconds.
His fingers dug into Seth’s hips, and his mouth parted, creating a dark, welcoming space as he leaned forward, closing that inch gap. Seth’s brain said a cheerful farewell, and then his cock was in charge, reveling in the moisture of Ryan’s breath misting over it. When Ryan’s mouth followed after, lips dragging over the skin on Seth’s dick, Seth squeezed the peas tight against his eye, decidedly not caring about weird sexual kinks. Ryan’s eyes slipped shut, and his tongue came out, ghosting along Seth’s cock teasingly, with a hungry sound that vibrated from his mouth to Seth’s cock, making him hiss. Seth wasn’t psychic or anything, but he didn’t have to be to understand the expression on Ryan’s face. Ryan wanted this. Ryan liked this. Seth’s cock was getting Ryan hot.
There was a rumble, from the back of Ryan’s throat, and then Seth was crying out, because Ryan had just taken Seth halfway inside, real quick, with a single diving motion. Seth’s left foot lifted off the kitchen floor, kicking out spasmodically, like a dog with a really beautiful itch, and just like that, Ryan was sucking Seth’s cock. He took it like a pro, too, like he’d thought about this before. He had all the specifics-the hows, and the technical problems-down. He sucked Seth like he’d been thinking about how Seth would want it.
Seth moaned when Ryan reached into the slit of his boxers and took his own cock out, started to jack it quick and hard, the rhythm he’d created on Seth’s dick stuttering only a little, before the two motions were in sync. He couldn’t decide which he wanted to see more: Ryan’s pumping hand or Ryan’s stretched mouth. His hips bucked helplessly, lost in the confused rush of pleasure. Ryan made a gagging noise and backed off until only the tip remained in his mouth, one hand holding Seth’s hip motionless.
“Sorry,” Seth said shakily.
Ryan’s eyes turned up to him, and he shook his head as much as he could without causing permanent injury. Around Seth’s cock, one corner of his mouth lifted.
My boyfriend has the smile of a pool shark, Seth thought inanely, and then Ryan grabbed Seth’s ass, pulling Seth forward, all the way into his mouth. Seth nearly dropped the peas, but he got with the program with enthusiasm, groaning and pushing forward like Ryan wanted him to, good eye blurrily focused on the calendar on the opposite wall. He noticed hazily that Ryan hadn’t changed the month, like the date had gotten stuck on the day Seth left, but his brain couldn’t work out what that meant.
Ryan’s hand left Seth’s ass, moved down so he could use both hands on himself, thrusting into the cup of his fists. He let Seth do all the work, fuck his mouth, and groaned a little, a harsh crackle of sensation along Seth’s cock, and Seth was coming hard, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that random sparks of light appeared on the lids.
The peas fell to the floor with a splat.
Ryan didn’t even make good on his threat to stop. He swallowed, and jerked himself hard, and swallowed again, coming into the hand he’d cupped around the head of his cock. Seth’s orgasm was three convulsive thrusts in length, and it rattled the silverware in the drawer like it rattled the brain in Seth’s head. It just rattled him.
Afterwards, Ryan rested his face against Seth’s damp hip, and Seth’s hands, which at some point had grabbed the back of Ryan’s skull, gentled, fitting to the bumpy, uneven shape of Ryan’s head. The air panted out of Ryan’s nose, blowing over Seth’s skin. Seth leaned back, feeling dizzy in his slump against the counter, watching in dumbfounded amazement his own fingers combing through Ryan’s hair.
Ryan’s eyes turned up to Seth, filled with everything Seth never wanted to lose, not ever, and that was about the time Seth’s knees started to shake again, and then his stomach, and then everywhere. Next, the world.
“You scream like a girl,” Ryan whispered, “and you dropped the peas.”
Seth touched Ryan’s mouth and said nothing.
*
Seth brushed his teeth without looking at himself in the mirror, afraid a time-warp might pop out, giant rabbit-shaped, to drag him back in time, and he’d have go through everything all over again. He was standing in the same spot Ryan had ambushed him in, using the same toothbrush, maybe wearing the same boxers, and if Ryan came through that door again, looking ready to start a war, Seth was going to fight him off with the toothpaste and the toothbrush, because he so did not need to repeat history.
Some things you wanted to do over, and some things you just wanted done.
Ryan didn’t come through the door. It was possible that Seth had watched Donnie Darko one too many times. Returning his toothbrush to its slot next to Ryan’s, Seth continued to avoid the mirror, and turned off the light in the bathroom.
Crossing the nook, he paused in the center between his room, and Ryan’s. His own door was standing open enough for Seth to see that Ryan had cleaned up the disaster Seth had left, stacked all the boxes tidily, put a fresh sheet on the bed. He’d even put Seth’s posters back on the wall. The idea of Ryan standing in Seth’s room, carefully pushing the tacks through the paneling, made Seth pull the door shut and turn away.
Ryan was already in bed when Seth draped himself over Ryan’s doorway, sitting up with the blanket to his waist, one corner flipped down invitingly. He shifted when he saw Seth, crossing and uncrossing his arms, before finally dropping his loosely-balled fists to the mattress, knees tenting the blanket. It was a deceptively unthreatening pose, but Seth wasn’t fooled now that he knew what Ryan could do with that body.
“I don’t think I should ever see Donnie Darko again,” Seth said.
“I’ll throw away the dvd tomorrow,” Ryan promised without a blink.
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Uh-huh.”
Seth tilted his head, looked around. Ryan’s room was more like Seth’s than Seth’s currently was: used dishes sitting around unwashed, toppled books still toppled, laundry all over the floor. The laundry basket was by Seth’s feet, and obviously hadn’t been used because it was busy doubling as a recycling bin for beer cans. Lifting one of the cans out of the basket, Seth held it up for both of them to see. Exhibit A.
“I really did a number on you, huh?”
Ryan’s eyes veered sideways. “I don’t usually...”
“I know. I’d be flattered, if I didn’t feel so bad.”
“I’m not my mom.”
“You’re not,” Seth agreed placidly. “I’d never kiss your mom.”
Seth tossed the can in the basket, and stayed in the doorway for too long, long enough that it became a big deal. They’d been kissing in the kitchen when they’d yawned into each other’s mouth, nearly at the same time, and Ryan had suggested that they go to bed, together, in his room, because his bed was bigger. It definitely had size on its side, but it also had Ryan in it, and this was really it. They’d either make it work, or they wouldn’t, and there was no giant-rabbit waiting around to turn back time. Seth couldn’t think of an appropriate song for this moment that didn’t involve dying.
“You coming?” Ryan asked, sounding resigned, like he expected a fight.
Seth pushed off the doorway with his shoulder. Ryan’s eyebrows jumped in surprise, then he quickly scooted down until he was on his back on the blue sheet, with his arm stretched across the open side of the bed. Seth kneed his way up the mattress, mind blank. Lying down on his side, his back to Ryan, Seth accidentally trapped his arm under him, but his heart was pounding in his ear drums, and he didn’t move. Silently, Ryan pulled the covers over them both, cocooning them in cotton blend. Under the fabric, his arm slid over Seth’s ribs like a bridge being built, and warm fingertips pressing on Seth’s stomach encouraged Seth to fit himself more fully against the question mark of Ryan’s torso. As they moved closer together, Seth’s arm slipped out from underneath him, and Seth could breath again.
Pant. Hyperventilate.
When they were settled, Ryan sighed, drawn-out, exhaling on the nape of Seth’s neck. Seth wiggled at the sensation, and then stilled, trying deep breathing exercises. He was zen. He was totally zen. Or not. Holy fuck. He was going to have a heart attack.
“Comfortable?” Ryan asked, warmly, close to Seth’s ear.
Seth nodded. The light was still on, burning yellow over Ryan’s hand, lying close to Seth’s eyes on the pillow; it smelled like cigarette smoke. Seth was as comfortable as he could be when all in one day he’d come to terms with his sexuality, Ryan’s sexuality, his relationship with Summer, and the strange gift he had of driving perfectly sober people to alcohol and lung cancer. Oh, and he’d enjoyed the hell out of gay sex.
“You’re shaking .” Ryan’s stomach moved against Seth’s back. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Seth said, his teeth chattering. “Big coward here. Just give me a minute and I’ll stop freaking out. While we’re waiting, need any paint mixed?”
Ryan laughed into Seth’s neck, arm tightening around him convulsively. Seth turned his ear toward the sound, chin rasping over Ryan’s hair, catching strands, and his teeth stopped chattering, even if the shaking didn’t go away completely. He’d made Ryan happy, and abruptly, like a wave tumbling over itself, or two sides of a hemp necklace being linked together, he realized why he was willing to change his whole world. It wasn’t just about his sexual identity, or becoming what those guys in high school had called him, or even about bowing to the superior wisdom of his friends and family. It was this, right here, shuddering with laughter against him. Ryan was why.
Cool.
Carefully, Seth grasped Ryan’s forearm, pulling until it was hooked under his own armpit. He had to deal with Ryan’s pointy elbow sticking him in the chest, but it was worth it to be able to slide Ryan’s smokey-hand under his cheek, rest his face on that roughly-defined palm. Ryan’s fingertips curved around Seth’s cheekbone, and when the laughter ended, the feeling didn’t.
“I think you’re brave,” Ryan whispered after Seth’s shaking had stopped.
Seth grinned quietly at Ryan’s palm.
*
The lady in 2C moved out. Noise pollution, she said.
Seth waved at her frowning visage from the safety of his doorway as she lugged her stuff down the stairs with help from one of her sons. Maybe someone would drop a couch on her. In the background, Ryan was watching the game, loudly, and he hollered for Seth when his team scored, like Seth actually gave a damn. Seth rolled his eyes, and pulled back into the apartment, closing the door.
The rusted gold letters shook, and continued to droop, but didn’t fall off.
THE END
A/N: Wow, okay, so the ride is finally over. I’m sorry for being such a slow writer, seriously, but I kept wanting to expand the story beyond its natural life, explore Seth’s head more. I guess I’ll just have to write more fic to do that, huh? Thank you for everyone that gave me feedback while I edited this, and re-wrote this, and re-wrote that, hated it, and loved it, etc., etc., etc. If I didn’t reply to your feedback, I did appreciate it, and I promise I will this time. Cross my heart.