A Most Brilliant Dance, Coda 2/2
[Continued from here.]
When nearly an hour passes without Ryan returning, Amanda sighs and pushes at Spencer’s shoulder lightly. “He’s gone and gotten distracted,” she says. “I think Brian left his notes in the library. Go remind Ryan that it’s not long until dinner, will you?”
“Already?” Spencer asks, startled, and looks up to see that the clock on the wall is pointing to just past seven. The morning had been taken up with the drive and the afternoon had passed faster than he’d expected; the knot of anticipation and nervousness in his belly squirms, slightly, and Amanda gives him a calculating and slightly sympathetic look. She stands and leans forward to kiss him on the cheek.
“I’m going home,” she says. “Have a good night, Spencer. I really am glad for you and Ryan.”
“Um,” Spencer says, still uncertain around her. “Thank you?”
Amanda tilts her head and looks at him warmly. “For what it’s worth,” she says, “I honestly haven’t seen him this happy before. Not when we were children, not when he first came back from boarding school, not with Pete.”
“Oh,” Spencer says, and feels his cheeks heating up. “Thank you. Again, er.”
“Good night,” she says, and leaves the room. Spencer goes out through the opposite door, trying to remember where the library is. He manages to get halfway there before giving up and Katie seems to be passing by at exactly the right moment to point him in its direction again. He grins at her, flustered but pleased, and she laughs brightly, waggling her fingers in a wave as she turns around the corner.
Ryan’s sitting on a table in the library, cross legged with one foot on a pile of official looking documents. His chin is propped in his hand and he’s reading something with an intense amount of concentration; Spencer ducks his head to catch sight of the title and laughs out loud - it’s Hans Christian Anderson’s Fairytales.
Ryan looks up at the sound, blinking slightly as if Spencer’s appeared out of nowhere. His voice is somewhat thick, as if he’s still coming out of a dream, when he says, “Yes, yes, I’m coming.”
“Amanda left,” Spencer says. “I’ve been told dinner is about to be served.”
“Oh!” Ryan says, and hops off the table with a complete lack of grace, knocking an inkpot over on the pile of already bedraggled documents He upturns it as swiftly as possible but the papers are ruined and he gives them such a mournful look that Spencer can’t help but burst into laughter.
Ryan blinks at him, looking cautiously pleased, as though glad that he’s provided entertainment but not entirely sure as to how he did it. Spencer beckons him over and Ryan comes willingly, and Spencer throws an arm around Ryan’s shoulder, tugging him close.
“You’re taller than me,” Ryan sighs, and that makes Spencer start laughing again. Ryan blinks at him, bewildered.
“I love you,” Spencer says, when he’s still giggling but at least able to breathe again, and the corners of Ryan’s mouth twitch, his eyes going bright. Ryan smiles up at him and Spencer stops laughing, and repeats, “Love you.”
Ryan draws in a breath and says, “Yes. Yeah, Spence, me too,” and Spencer nods and then swings around, crowding Ryan up against the wall and pushing forward, hands on Ryan’s hips.
“Good,” he says. “Stop being such an idiot, then.”
Ryan goes very still, and then he looks up at Spencer through his eyelashes and rocks his hips forward, just slightly. Spencer spreads his fingers, holding firm, and the material is cool beneath his palm. Ryan tilts his head back, baring his throat, and Spencer releases a noisy breath.
“Dinner,” he says. Ryan groans.
--
The last time he was at Pemberley they ate up in one of the parlors, but this time dinner is served in the general dining room that Spencer is told will be where they eat most days. The table is huge and long, and two places are set at opposite ends; Spencer stares in disbelief and Ryan looks a little miserable, taking his place on the other side of the room.
“This is ridiculous,” he says.
“It’s tradition,” Ryan says, staring at his plate, and Spencer huffs out an annoyed breath and grabs his plate, taking it all the way up until he’s in the seat on Ryan’s left.
“It’s ridiculous,” he repeats, and Ryan grins at him and shares his wineglass.
The meal, Spencer supposes, is very good - it generally is, on the first night of a marriage, or so he is told - and he remembers being very impressed by the sight of the dessert, but to be completely honest he finds it very hard to remember anything whatsoever in regards to the taste of the meal. The world seems to narrow in and focus on Ryan’s foot tapping against Spencer’s under the table, their knees pressed together, their hands bumping as they share the glass back and forth. Spencer stares at his plate, blushes whenever a servant enters the room and can barely even look at Ryan, conscious all the time of Ryan’s eyes fixed on him.
After Spencer has eaten half of his dessert and taken to pushing the rest of the food around the plate with his fork, Ryan’s fingers curl around his wrist. Spencer looks at his hand, still holding the fork, and Ryan’s fingers warm and firm around his wrist and thinks, Ryan’s fingers, God. He looks up.
Ryan says, quietly, “Care for an early night?” and Spencer pushes up mindlessly to his feet.
They go upstairs at a normal pace - Spencer thinks he would die of embarrassment if anybody saw them rushing - but Ryan keeps his hand splayed across Spencer’s back, warm through the material of the shirt, guiding him up slowly. He swallows hard and Ryan looks at him - a little while ago, Spencer thinks mindlessly, that would have made Ryan laugh, but now Ryan just looks at him and his eyes are dark and intent and really goddamn hungry. Spencer ducks his head and then he’s stumbling across a landing and finally, finally Ryan is opening the door to their room.
Someone’s already been up here, lit the candles and the fire in the hearth and drawn the curtains, and the blankets on the bed are folded back invitingly, but Spencer barely has a second to notice any of this before Ryan’s on him, pressing his back up against the closed door and kissing him like he wants to eat him alive. Ryan kisses dirty, biting at Spencer’s lip, sucking his tongue into Ryan’s mouth, and Spencer clenches his hands in Ryan’s shirt and drags him closer, as much as is physically possible.
Ryan presses his leg in between Spencer’s and pretty much grinds up against him and Spencer gasps, knocking his forehead hard into Ryan’s by accident. They break away for a moment and Ryan looks so surprised and confused at what’s going on, lust-stupid, that Spencer can’t help but laugh.
“What?” Ryan demands breathlessly. “What?”
“Nothing,” Spencer says, and glances at Ryan out of the corner of his eye. “Just, you’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Look who’s talking,” Ryan says, and then they’re kissing again, but this time Ryan is struggling out of his jacket at the same time and pushing Spencer’s off of his shoulders, and they’re stepping out of shoes - one, Spencer’s not sure whose, goes flying and knocks into the wall with a considerable bang - and tugging frantically at shirts. The whole time Ryan keeps rocking his hips into Spencer’s and Spencer can feel Ryan’s cock lining up against his through the expensive fabric of their trousers and has to let a litany of curse words stream out of his mouth, babbling almost nonsensically.
The first contact of their bare chests is a surprise, and Spencer almost bites down on Ryan’s tongue when he hisses out a breath. He pushes Ryan back a little and Ryan protests blindly, straining forward. “Ryan,” Spencer breathes. “Ryan, I want to look at you, let me, please.”
Ryan slits his eyes open, glittering faintly in the candlelight, and then nods jerkily and steps back, although not by much. Spencer’s seen Ryan bare-chested before, almost bare-chested, that one time with Ryan’s white shirt wet and transparent as it clung to his skin from his recent plunge in the lake. This is different, though; this time, Spencer doesn’t have to suppress the shudder of arousal and pretend it means something else. He’s allowed to stare at the line of Ryan’s collarbones, his flat stomach, the prominent curve of his hipbone where the trousers have slid low.
Spencer ducks his head and touches his lips to Ryan’s sternum. Ryan watches him silently, breathing through his slightly open mouth. He bites down on his lower lip when Spencer flicks out his tongue, just once, just to taste Ryan’s skin.
“Spencer,” Ryan mutters.
Spencer glances up, still bent low with his mouth against Ryan’s stomach. “Yes?”
“Bed,” Ryan says. “Please. I want…”
Spencer nods quickly and straightens, Ryan’s hands immediately going for his trousers, grasping at the waistband while he flicks the buttons open. The expensive cloth slides to the floor and pools around Spencer’s feet, and he’s still wearing his underwear, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite this exposed, this aware of his own body and its flaws.
Ryan isn’t looking at him like he notices any flaws at all, though. His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, one hand curled at Spencer’s waist as he tugs him over to the bed. Spencer comes willingly, and when Ryan nudges at his hip, he crawls onto the mattress and turns his head just in time to find Ryan staring at his ass.
He’s pretty sure he flushes several shades of red. It doesn’t stop the burning heat in his stomach, though, even makes it expand until he feels hot all over. “You’re still wearing your trousers,” he gets out, and he hardly recognizes his own voice.
“Oh.” Ryan glances down at himself and nods, unfastening his trousers without even a hint of hesitation. They slide down his legs and he steps out of them before he shucks off his underwear as well. Absurdly, Spencer finds himself lingering on Ryan’s thighs for a moment pale and slender with the faintest dusting of hair, before his gaze travels further up to find Ryan more than half-hard already.
For all that Spencer’s seen Brendon naked more times than he can count, it never made something white and hot swirl in his stomach, never made him swallow thickly, unable to look away.
“Your turn,” Ryan says softly.
Spencer flicks his eyes away, embarrassed, and tugs his own underwear down. He barely managed to toss it to the floor when Ryan is on him, settling between Spencer’s thighs as he presses him down into the mattress. Ryan’s skin is smooth and warm under Spencer’s palms, and he tentatively runs one hand down Ryan’s back, over the ripples of his spine. “Ryan,” he says, not even sure what he’s asking for.
“Yes,” Ryan says. Then they’re kissing again, their mouths open and desperate, Ryan’s tongue tickling the roof of Spencer’s mouth as he pushes inside at the same time as he grinds his hips down.
“Ryan,” Spencer gasps out in between one hurried inhalation and the next, but what he really means is I love you.
“Love you,” Ryan breathes, as if he heard. “I want-”
“Anything,” Spencer interrupts because Ryan needs to hear it, isn’t allowed to doubt it ever again.
Ryan stills above him, golden in the candlelight, and just looking at him is almost too much, enough to make Spencer lifts his hips, just a little, straining for delicious contact. “You,” Ryan says. He winds one hand into Spencer’s hair, tugging lightly to make him pay attention. Spencer is always paying attention to Ryan these days; he hopes Ryan will learn to believe it.
“You have me,” Spencer says evenly, a fact.
“No, I mean.” Ryan shakes his head, still watching Spencer with that intense, heated gaze. “I mean, I want you, always, yes, but I want. I want you inside of me.”
Spencer twitches his hips up instinctively. He’s staring up at Ryan, swallowing dryly, and can’t quite come up with anything to say.
“Is that a yes?” Ryan sounds faintly amused, but mostly very hoarse and affected.
“That’s a hell yes,” Spencer manages. “It’s just, um, I thought it would be-I want to, I just thought-”
“We’ll do that, too,” Ryan says.
Spencer laughs because he thinks otherwise his brain is going to explode or something, and then he leans forward and kisses Ryan again. They shift around, barely letting go of each other, until Ryan is propped up on his back on the pillows, Spencer sinking down against him, and then the first friction of their cocks together makes Spencer bite down hard on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan laughs in surprised, breathless delight and Spencer kisses him again and then mumbles, “You have to tell me what to do.”
“I’ll show you,” Ryan agrees, and Spencer shifts off of him. Ryan reaches for the lotion on the bedside table and slicks his fingers up. Spencer stares, transfixed almost against his will, thinks about Ryan’s hand gripping his or curled around his wrist or holding a pen or anything. He’s almost sure that Ryan’s hand didn’t always look this indecent but watching Ryan reach down and push a finger into himself, back arching up slightly, he’s not so sure. Maybe he just never noticed.
Ryan says, voice strained, dark on the edges, “It’s better if you - help,” and Spencer nods mindlessly and reaches for the discarded lotion, copies Ryan in the way he got his fingers wet and slippery. “Not too much,” Ryan warns, watching him, “Or it’ll be too messy,” and Spencer nods, and then he reaches down and carefully slides his finger in next to Ryan’s.
Ryan makes a garbled, incoherent noise and thrusts his hips up and Spencer stares at him, almost stunned by his reaction, until Ryan pants out something that sounds like please. Then Spencer crooks his finger and slides it in and then back out, and then adds another, and Ryan has the most impressive hoard of curse words Spencer has ever heard, all of them spilling out suddenly as he pushes himself back onto his own and Spencer’s fingers.
Spencer feels incredibly unprepared for all of this, really. He honestly had expected to be on the other end of this, to be the one looking up at Ryan, legs spread and waiting, and this is entirely different and still incredible - Ryan with his eyes lidded and hips pushing lazily up, all golden skin and long limbs in the candlelight - and Spencer feels strangely unbalanced. Eventually, Ryan pulls out his fingers and pants, “Enough, okay,” and Spencer takes his fingers away, too, and takes a breath.
He puts his hand on Ryan’s stomach for a moment, splaying his fingers out across the skin, and then he kind of freezes and just stares at his own hand, at Ryan’s cock, at his red mouth open and waiting. He feels stupid and overwhelmed and also a little nervous because, okay, sharing a bed for most of your teenage years is not exactly conductive to getting yourself off, and Spencer has an embarrassing feeling that this is going to be over very, very quickly.
“Spence?” Ryan says, hoarse and impatient. He pushes his hips up against Spencer’s hand in a poorly disguised reminder of what Spencer’s meant to be doing, and Spencer flushes red.
“Sorry,” he says, helplessly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan says, sounding confused. Neither of them says anything for a while and then Ryan ventures, hopefully, “You going to do anything any time soon?”
“Yes,” Spencer says firmly, but doesn’t move. Ryan sighs and props himself up on his elbows, breathing against Spencer’s forehead.
“Spencer,” Ryan says tentatively. “It’s not… uncommon for some young men to realise that they’re, um, not actually interested in their own gender after all, sometimes. We can-”
“Oh, God, no,” Spencer says immediately, and hates himself a little bit for managing to make it seem like even his own insecurities are somehow Ryan falling short. “No, honestly, I’m just - I don’t think I’m going to be very good.”
Ryan blinks at him. Spencer, if possible, turns redder.
“I mean,” he mumbles, “I haven’t really done anything, and you have, and I probably won’t last very-”
“Oh,” Ryan breathes, understanding lighting up his face. He looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, mouth turning up crookedly, “Would you like me to take the edge off for you? I have been complimented on my mouth.”
It takes Spencer a few moments to work out what Ryan means, and by that time Ryan has already made his own decision and is wriggling down the bed. Spencer blinks at him and Ryan grins at him and then ducks his head, sucks on the head and Spencer gasps, arching his hips up automatically because, “God, God, Ryan,” he babbles, and Ryan goes further down, taking as much into his mouth as he can and using his hand where he can’t reach.
Spencer’s hips arch up again, and then Ryan’s other arm is there, pinning him flat while Ryan gives him an annoyed look that doesn’t quite have a full effect while Ryan’s sucking his cock oh God. Spencer thinks something that’s incoherent even in his own head about how amazing this would be if it could last forever, makes a whining, begging noise that trails off to a rough, ugly sound when Ryan moves up and swirls his tongue around Spencer’s head and Spencer thinks well, forever was probably a bit ambitious anyway, and comes.
Ryan makes a spluttering noise, clearly not expecting it, but he swallows after a moment and when he comes back up he’s laughing, swiping the back of his hand across his messy mouth.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Spencer protests indignantly, even though Ryan’s grin is contagious. “I can’t help it, not all of us have slept around-”
“I have not!” Ryan objects.
“Oh, come on, you went to boarding school,” Spencer says, and Ryan cracks up laughing again, falling over Spencer. It would be a very romantic, warm moment, Spencer’s sure, except that Ryan’s also rutting against his hip, and Spencer says, more confident now for no particular reason, “You want me to help you out with that?”
“If you felt you had the time,” Ryan says airily, and Spencer moves, rolling Ryan underneath him.
“I think I can probably manage it,” he says, and Ryan looks up at him, laughter dying. The flickering candlelight makes shadows dance across Ryan’s face, his chest, and Spencer can already feel the first stirring of his cock, interested again or still, but he needs another moment, so he dips his head to lap at a point just below Ryan’s jaw, pulse fluttering excitedly under his tongue.
“Are you marking me?” Ryan asks when Spencer sucks the skin into his mouth. He sounds faintly incredulous, negated by how he’s still pressing himself against Spencer, Ryan’s erection squashed between their stomachs, sliding against Spencer’s skin with each tiny shift of either of their bodies. Spencer’s cock is definitely recovering, filling out as if it hadn’t been just minutes ago, if that.
Spencer grins and sucks harder before he pulls back. Ryan’s skin is angry and red, and he doesn’t think it will fade anytime soon. “Bet Pete could never do that, even if he wanted to,” he says, and he can’t quite help the smug note in his voice.
Ryan exhales and props himself up on his elbows. “Spencer,” he says.
“No, I know,” Spencer says. “You can wear scarves or something, to cover it up. I just really wanted to-”
“Pete,” Ryan interrupts him, “has nothing to do with this. With us.”
Spencer wants to argue, wants to say that Pete was the first to do this to Ryan, that Pete could have been in Spencer’s position if he hadn’t thrown it away so carelessly. Ryan is staring up at him with serious eyes, and Spencer can’t make Ryan suffer for another one of Spencer’s insecurities. He’ll get over it. And while Spencer is fairly certain that Pete didn’t lack confidence in bed, Ryan seemed pretty far from complaining so far.
“No,” Spencer says, “he doesn’t. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to… leave a mark.”
“You already have,” Ryan says softly, and oh God, it should be cheesy and cliché, but Ryan’s eyes are dark and Spencer doesn’t feel like laughing at all. He nods jerkily, and then Ryan wraps slick fingers around Spencer’s cock, squeezes once before he strokes along the length, coating him in lube, preparing him for-
Spencer actually has to close his eyes, just for a moment, so as to keep from coming again right away. That’d be plain embarrassing.
“Spencer,” Ryan breathes. “Look at me.”
Because it’s not like Spencer can refuse Ryan anything at this point, he does, moving his hips slightly into Ryan’s touch. “Yes,” he says, and he’s not exactly sure what he means. Please, maybe.
“I’m ready,” Ryan says.
Spencer swallows thickly before he nods, leaning down for a light brush of their lips as he adjusts his position. He doesn’t think it’s going to work at this angle, but then Ryan lets his hand fall to the mattress and pulls his knees up, opening and offering himself, and that, just, yes, that could work, shit. Spencer bites down on his lower lip and grips the base of his own cock, slick and hot against his palm as he pushes forward. Ryan arches into him without any hesitation, pulling him closer with a tight grip on Spencer’s hips, closer and forward and… inside, oh God, and it’s tight and Ryan’s face is scrunched up in concentration and their position is utterly wrong for it, but Spencer strains to kiss him anyway.
“Okay?” he mumbles into Ryan’s mouth.
Ryan’s lips part under him and he jerks his head. “Yes, always, want you, just. Give me a moment.”
Spencer tries. He focuses on Ryan’s face, the flash of teeth as Ryan bites down on his lower lip, anything but the hot squeeze around his cock that’s almost too much to stay still. He does, though.
“Okay,” Ryan says after a mere few seconds. Without any prior warning, he lifts his hips off the bed, making Spencer slide in another inch, fully inside now, and Spencer’s gasp is harsh, dragged from him by surprise. Ryan smiles up at him. “If you think you could consider moving,” he begins, and before he can finish the sentence, Spencer already slides out before he thrusts back in, trying to make it a steady, slow movement.
“Moving?” he asks. “Like that?”
Ryan blinks up at him, a somewhat intoxicated look to his eyes, and hums something that sounds a lot like agreement. It’s almost painful, how much Spencer wants him. And the thing is that…
The thing is that he has him.
“Ryan,” he says, and the moment Ryan’s eyes focus on him, he withdraws and pauses, holding Ryan’s gaze. Ryan opens his mouth, but Spencer cuts him off before Ryan can say whatever it is he wanted to say. “I love you,” Spencer says, clear and sure, and then he pushes into Ryan with enough force to make him slide up a few inches on the mattress.
Ryan gasps and it’s easier, now, Spencer’s got the rhythm; he fucks into Ryan steadily, pauses for a moment to let Ryan wrap long legs up around Spencer’s waist, and then they move together, Ryan arching up towards him, Spencer remembering to wrap his hand around Ryan’s cock (and Ryan says something, half-garbled so that Spencer can’t pick it up, pushing himself into Spencer’s grip). It’s beyond good, overwhelming, Ryan clenching around him, grabbing at Spencer’s forearms at one point to steady himself, and Spencer drives in hard one last time, and comes deep inside Ryan, arms trembling beneath him. He thinks, oh, and then Ryan’s coming against his stomach, and Spencer gives up trying to stay upright, tumbling to the side and laughing, stupid and breathless.
He pulls out while Ryan’s still got a faintly glazed expression in his eyes, and then he throws a leg over Ryan’s body and nuzzles up to his neck, kissing sloppily along his jaw. “Ry-an,” he singsongs, and nudges his nose against Ryan’s. “Ryan, are you ignoring me?”
“Hnh,” Ryan says. Spencer’s not really sure what that means, but it was said in a faintly contradictory tone, so he bites back a laugh and touches Ryan’s skin, his arm, his chest, the side of his face, his hip, his ass, everywhere Spencer can reach.
He says, cheerfully, “Let’s do that again!”
--
“Oh my God,” Ryan says the next morning, blinking as the morning light streams through their window. “I am never going to move again. My bones have turned into lead.”
“I am a God,” Spencer says smugly.
Ryan says, “You’re disgusting, that’s what you are. We need a bath.”
“Hey,” Spencer says, sitting up and waggling his eyebrows. “Bath.”
“Oh my God,” Ryan says. He rolls over and says, “I’m having my own bath.”
“You are not,” Spencer says, affronted. “I’m your husband. It’s your duty to fulfil my needs.”
“I already did,” Ryan points out. “Like, three times. No, wait, four.”
“Because you love me,” Spencer says.
“I’m beginning to regret that decision,” Ryan says. “I think it was poorly made. With little thought. I’ll have to get back to you on it.”
“I know,” Spencer says, sadly. “You have gone against everything that should be considered - my birth, my rank, the expectations of your friends and family, my flings with the militia-”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Ryan says, rolling back over to grin at Spencer. “It’s not my fault that I’m-”
“Incredibly bad at proposing?” Spencer suggests.
“Yes,” Ryan says, and then looks annoyed when Spencer starts to giggle. “Hey,” he says, curling in closer to Spencer’s body to kiss him. Spencer thinks it’s good that both of their breath is kind of awful right now, because it means that neither of them can taste it, or care. Ryan kisses a little sloppily, mouth moving warm and familiar against Spencer’s, and he mumbles, “I managed to get you here somehow, anyway, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Spencer says, looking at Ryan in the warm, golden light of morning, smiling and rumpled against his pillow, with funny looking hair and shadows under his eyes from not enough sleep. Outside the window is Pemberley, and Spencer thinks that maybe later today he’ll take a book out and row one of the little boats into the middle of the lake, sit there and read. There’s a lot of ground to be explored, too; Ryan will come with him, Spencer knows. There are so many possibilities, and it’s silly to want to just stay here all morning. And yet, and yet; he sprawls over Ryan again, weighing him down and pressing close, eyes closed and breathing out against Ryan’s neck, and he says, “Somehow.”
=== The End. No, really. ===
When nearly an hour passes without Ryan returning, Amanda sighs and pushes at Spencer’s shoulder lightly. “He’s gone and gotten distracted,” she says. “I think Brian left his notes in the library. Go remind Ryan that it’s not long until dinner, will you?”
“Already?” Spencer asks, startled, and looks up to see that the clock on the wall is pointing to just past seven. The morning had been taken up with the drive and the afternoon had passed faster than he’d expected; the knot of anticipation and nervousness in his belly squirms, slightly, and Amanda gives him a calculating and slightly sympathetic look. She stands and leans forward to kiss him on the cheek.
“I’m going home,” she says. “Have a good night, Spencer. I really am glad for you and Ryan.”
“Um,” Spencer says, still uncertain around her. “Thank you?”
Amanda tilts her head and looks at him warmly. “For what it’s worth,” she says, “I honestly haven’t seen him this happy before. Not when we were children, not when he first came back from boarding school, not with Pete.”
“Oh,” Spencer says, and feels his cheeks heating up. “Thank you. Again, er.”
“Good night,” she says, and leaves the room. Spencer goes out through the opposite door, trying to remember where the library is. He manages to get halfway there before giving up and Katie seems to be passing by at exactly the right moment to point him in its direction again. He grins at her, flustered but pleased, and she laughs brightly, waggling her fingers in a wave as she turns around the corner.
Ryan’s sitting on a table in the library, cross legged with one foot on a pile of official looking documents. His chin is propped in his hand and he’s reading something with an intense amount of concentration; Spencer ducks his head to catch sight of the title and laughs out loud - it’s Hans Christian Anderson’s Fairytales.
Ryan looks up at the sound, blinking slightly as if Spencer’s appeared out of nowhere. His voice is somewhat thick, as if he’s still coming out of a dream, when he says, “Yes, yes, I’m coming.”
“Amanda left,” Spencer says. “I’ve been told dinner is about to be served.”
“Oh!” Ryan says, and hops off the table with a complete lack of grace, knocking an inkpot over on the pile of already bedraggled documents He upturns it as swiftly as possible but the papers are ruined and he gives them such a mournful look that Spencer can’t help but burst into laughter.
Ryan blinks at him, looking cautiously pleased, as though glad that he’s provided entertainment but not entirely sure as to how he did it. Spencer beckons him over and Ryan comes willingly, and Spencer throws an arm around Ryan’s shoulder, tugging him close.
“You’re taller than me,” Ryan sighs, and that makes Spencer start laughing again. Ryan blinks at him, bewildered.
“I love you,” Spencer says, when he’s still giggling but at least able to breathe again, and the corners of Ryan’s mouth twitch, his eyes going bright. Ryan smiles up at him and Spencer stops laughing, and repeats, “Love you.”
Ryan draws in a breath and says, “Yes. Yeah, Spence, me too,” and Spencer nods and then swings around, crowding Ryan up against the wall and pushing forward, hands on Ryan’s hips.
“Good,” he says. “Stop being such an idiot, then.”
Ryan goes very still, and then he looks up at Spencer through his eyelashes and rocks his hips forward, just slightly. Spencer spreads his fingers, holding firm, and the material is cool beneath his palm. Ryan tilts his head back, baring his throat, and Spencer releases a noisy breath.
“Dinner,” he says. Ryan groans.
--
The last time he was at Pemberley they ate up in one of the parlors, but this time dinner is served in the general dining room that Spencer is told will be where they eat most days. The table is huge and long, and two places are set at opposite ends; Spencer stares in disbelief and Ryan looks a little miserable, taking his place on the other side of the room.
“This is ridiculous,” he says.
“It’s tradition,” Ryan says, staring at his plate, and Spencer huffs out an annoyed breath and grabs his plate, taking it all the way up until he’s in the seat on Ryan’s left.
“It’s ridiculous,” he repeats, and Ryan grins at him and shares his wineglass.
The meal, Spencer supposes, is very good - it generally is, on the first night of a marriage, or so he is told - and he remembers being very impressed by the sight of the dessert, but to be completely honest he finds it very hard to remember anything whatsoever in regards to the taste of the meal. The world seems to narrow in and focus on Ryan’s foot tapping against Spencer’s under the table, their knees pressed together, their hands bumping as they share the glass back and forth. Spencer stares at his plate, blushes whenever a servant enters the room and can barely even look at Ryan, conscious all the time of Ryan’s eyes fixed on him.
After Spencer has eaten half of his dessert and taken to pushing the rest of the food around the plate with his fork, Ryan’s fingers curl around his wrist. Spencer looks at his hand, still holding the fork, and Ryan’s fingers warm and firm around his wrist and thinks, Ryan’s fingers, God. He looks up.
Ryan says, quietly, “Care for an early night?” and Spencer pushes up mindlessly to his feet.
They go upstairs at a normal pace - Spencer thinks he would die of embarrassment if anybody saw them rushing - but Ryan keeps his hand splayed across Spencer’s back, warm through the material of the shirt, guiding him up slowly. He swallows hard and Ryan looks at him - a little while ago, Spencer thinks mindlessly, that would have made Ryan laugh, but now Ryan just looks at him and his eyes are dark and intent and really goddamn hungry. Spencer ducks his head and then he’s stumbling across a landing and finally, finally Ryan is opening the door to their room.
Someone’s already been up here, lit the candles and the fire in the hearth and drawn the curtains, and the blankets on the bed are folded back invitingly, but Spencer barely has a second to notice any of this before Ryan’s on him, pressing his back up against the closed door and kissing him like he wants to eat him alive. Ryan kisses dirty, biting at Spencer’s lip, sucking his tongue into Ryan’s mouth, and Spencer clenches his hands in Ryan’s shirt and drags him closer, as much as is physically possible.
Ryan presses his leg in between Spencer’s and pretty much grinds up against him and Spencer gasps, knocking his forehead hard into Ryan’s by accident. They break away for a moment and Ryan looks so surprised and confused at what’s going on, lust-stupid, that Spencer can’t help but laugh.
“What?” Ryan demands breathlessly. “What?”
“Nothing,” Spencer says, and glances at Ryan out of the corner of his eye. “Just, you’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Look who’s talking,” Ryan says, and then they’re kissing again, but this time Ryan is struggling out of his jacket at the same time and pushing Spencer’s off of his shoulders, and they’re stepping out of shoes - one, Spencer’s not sure whose, goes flying and knocks into the wall with a considerable bang - and tugging frantically at shirts. The whole time Ryan keeps rocking his hips into Spencer’s and Spencer can feel Ryan’s cock lining up against his through the expensive fabric of their trousers and has to let a litany of curse words stream out of his mouth, babbling almost nonsensically.
The first contact of their bare chests is a surprise, and Spencer almost bites down on Ryan’s tongue when he hisses out a breath. He pushes Ryan back a little and Ryan protests blindly, straining forward. “Ryan,” Spencer breathes. “Ryan, I want to look at you, let me, please.”
Ryan slits his eyes open, glittering faintly in the candlelight, and then nods jerkily and steps back, although not by much. Spencer’s seen Ryan bare-chested before, almost bare-chested, that one time with Ryan’s white shirt wet and transparent as it clung to his skin from his recent plunge in the lake. This is different, though; this time, Spencer doesn’t have to suppress the shudder of arousal and pretend it means something else. He’s allowed to stare at the line of Ryan’s collarbones, his flat stomach, the prominent curve of his hipbone where the trousers have slid low.
Spencer ducks his head and touches his lips to Ryan’s sternum. Ryan watches him silently, breathing through his slightly open mouth. He bites down on his lower lip when Spencer flicks out his tongue, just once, just to taste Ryan’s skin.
“Spencer,” Ryan mutters.
Spencer glances up, still bent low with his mouth against Ryan’s stomach. “Yes?”
“Bed,” Ryan says. “Please. I want…”
Spencer nods quickly and straightens, Ryan’s hands immediately going for his trousers, grasping at the waistband while he flicks the buttons open. The expensive cloth slides to the floor and pools around Spencer’s feet, and he’s still wearing his underwear, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite this exposed, this aware of his own body and its flaws.
Ryan isn’t looking at him like he notices any flaws at all, though. His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, one hand curled at Spencer’s waist as he tugs him over to the bed. Spencer comes willingly, and when Ryan nudges at his hip, he crawls onto the mattress and turns his head just in time to find Ryan staring at his ass.
He’s pretty sure he flushes several shades of red. It doesn’t stop the burning heat in his stomach, though, even makes it expand until he feels hot all over. “You’re still wearing your trousers,” he gets out, and he hardly recognizes his own voice.
“Oh.” Ryan glances down at himself and nods, unfastening his trousers without even a hint of hesitation. They slide down his legs and he steps out of them before he shucks off his underwear as well. Absurdly, Spencer finds himself lingering on Ryan’s thighs for a moment pale and slender with the faintest dusting of hair, before his gaze travels further up to find Ryan more than half-hard already.
For all that Spencer’s seen Brendon naked more times than he can count, it never made something white and hot swirl in his stomach, never made him swallow thickly, unable to look away.
“Your turn,” Ryan says softly.
Spencer flicks his eyes away, embarrassed, and tugs his own underwear down. He barely managed to toss it to the floor when Ryan is on him, settling between Spencer’s thighs as he presses him down into the mattress. Ryan’s skin is smooth and warm under Spencer’s palms, and he tentatively runs one hand down Ryan’s back, over the ripples of his spine. “Ryan,” he says, not even sure what he’s asking for.
“Yes,” Ryan says. Then they’re kissing again, their mouths open and desperate, Ryan’s tongue tickling the roof of Spencer’s mouth as he pushes inside at the same time as he grinds his hips down.
“Ryan,” Spencer gasps out in between one hurried inhalation and the next, but what he really means is I love you.
“Love you,” Ryan breathes, as if he heard. “I want-”
“Anything,” Spencer interrupts because Ryan needs to hear it, isn’t allowed to doubt it ever again.
Ryan stills above him, golden in the candlelight, and just looking at him is almost too much, enough to make Spencer lifts his hips, just a little, straining for delicious contact. “You,” Ryan says. He winds one hand into Spencer’s hair, tugging lightly to make him pay attention. Spencer is always paying attention to Ryan these days; he hopes Ryan will learn to believe it.
“You have me,” Spencer says evenly, a fact.
“No, I mean.” Ryan shakes his head, still watching Spencer with that intense, heated gaze. “I mean, I want you, always, yes, but I want. I want you inside of me.”
Spencer twitches his hips up instinctively. He’s staring up at Ryan, swallowing dryly, and can’t quite come up with anything to say.
“Is that a yes?” Ryan sounds faintly amused, but mostly very hoarse and affected.
“That’s a hell yes,” Spencer manages. “It’s just, um, I thought it would be-I want to, I just thought-”
“We’ll do that, too,” Ryan says.
Spencer laughs because he thinks otherwise his brain is going to explode or something, and then he leans forward and kisses Ryan again. They shift around, barely letting go of each other, until Ryan is propped up on his back on the pillows, Spencer sinking down against him, and then the first friction of their cocks together makes Spencer bite down hard on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan laughs in surprised, breathless delight and Spencer kisses him again and then mumbles, “You have to tell me what to do.”
“I’ll show you,” Ryan agrees, and Spencer shifts off of him. Ryan reaches for the lotion on the bedside table and slicks his fingers up. Spencer stares, transfixed almost against his will, thinks about Ryan’s hand gripping his or curled around his wrist or holding a pen or anything. He’s almost sure that Ryan’s hand didn’t always look this indecent but watching Ryan reach down and push a finger into himself, back arching up slightly, he’s not so sure. Maybe he just never noticed.
Ryan says, voice strained, dark on the edges, “It’s better if you - help,” and Spencer nods mindlessly and reaches for the discarded lotion, copies Ryan in the way he got his fingers wet and slippery. “Not too much,” Ryan warns, watching him, “Or it’ll be too messy,” and Spencer nods, and then he reaches down and carefully slides his finger in next to Ryan’s.
Ryan makes a garbled, incoherent noise and thrusts his hips up and Spencer stares at him, almost stunned by his reaction, until Ryan pants out something that sounds like please. Then Spencer crooks his finger and slides it in and then back out, and then adds another, and Ryan has the most impressive hoard of curse words Spencer has ever heard, all of them spilling out suddenly as he pushes himself back onto his own and Spencer’s fingers.
Spencer feels incredibly unprepared for all of this, really. He honestly had expected to be on the other end of this, to be the one looking up at Ryan, legs spread and waiting, and this is entirely different and still incredible - Ryan with his eyes lidded and hips pushing lazily up, all golden skin and long limbs in the candlelight - and Spencer feels strangely unbalanced. Eventually, Ryan pulls out his fingers and pants, “Enough, okay,” and Spencer takes his fingers away, too, and takes a breath.
He puts his hand on Ryan’s stomach for a moment, splaying his fingers out across the skin, and then he kind of freezes and just stares at his own hand, at Ryan’s cock, at his red mouth open and waiting. He feels stupid and overwhelmed and also a little nervous because, okay, sharing a bed for most of your teenage years is not exactly conductive to getting yourself off, and Spencer has an embarrassing feeling that this is going to be over very, very quickly.
“Spence?” Ryan says, hoarse and impatient. He pushes his hips up against Spencer’s hand in a poorly disguised reminder of what Spencer’s meant to be doing, and Spencer flushes red.
“Sorry,” he says, helplessly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ryan says, sounding confused. Neither of them says anything for a while and then Ryan ventures, hopefully, “You going to do anything any time soon?”
“Yes,” Spencer says firmly, but doesn’t move. Ryan sighs and props himself up on his elbows, breathing against Spencer’s forehead.
“Spencer,” Ryan says tentatively. “It’s not… uncommon for some young men to realise that they’re, um, not actually interested in their own gender after all, sometimes. We can-”
“Oh, God, no,” Spencer says immediately, and hates himself a little bit for managing to make it seem like even his own insecurities are somehow Ryan falling short. “No, honestly, I’m just - I don’t think I’m going to be very good.”
Ryan blinks at him. Spencer, if possible, turns redder.
“I mean,” he mumbles, “I haven’t really done anything, and you have, and I probably won’t last very-”
“Oh,” Ryan breathes, understanding lighting up his face. He looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, mouth turning up crookedly, “Would you like me to take the edge off for you? I have been complimented on my mouth.”
It takes Spencer a few moments to work out what Ryan means, and by that time Ryan has already made his own decision and is wriggling down the bed. Spencer blinks at him and Ryan grins at him and then ducks his head, sucks on the head and Spencer gasps, arching his hips up automatically because, “God, God, Ryan,” he babbles, and Ryan goes further down, taking as much into his mouth as he can and using his hand where he can’t reach.
Spencer’s hips arch up again, and then Ryan’s other arm is there, pinning him flat while Ryan gives him an annoyed look that doesn’t quite have a full effect while Ryan’s sucking his cock oh God. Spencer thinks something that’s incoherent even in his own head about how amazing this would be if it could last forever, makes a whining, begging noise that trails off to a rough, ugly sound when Ryan moves up and swirls his tongue around Spencer’s head and Spencer thinks well, forever was probably a bit ambitious anyway, and comes.
Ryan makes a spluttering noise, clearly not expecting it, but he swallows after a moment and when he comes back up he’s laughing, swiping the back of his hand across his messy mouth.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Spencer protests indignantly, even though Ryan’s grin is contagious. “I can’t help it, not all of us have slept around-”
“I have not!” Ryan objects.
“Oh, come on, you went to boarding school,” Spencer says, and Ryan cracks up laughing again, falling over Spencer. It would be a very romantic, warm moment, Spencer’s sure, except that Ryan’s also rutting against his hip, and Spencer says, more confident now for no particular reason, “You want me to help you out with that?”
“If you felt you had the time,” Ryan says airily, and Spencer moves, rolling Ryan underneath him.
“I think I can probably manage it,” he says, and Ryan looks up at him, laughter dying. The flickering candlelight makes shadows dance across Ryan’s face, his chest, and Spencer can already feel the first stirring of his cock, interested again or still, but he needs another moment, so he dips his head to lap at a point just below Ryan’s jaw, pulse fluttering excitedly under his tongue.
“Are you marking me?” Ryan asks when Spencer sucks the skin into his mouth. He sounds faintly incredulous, negated by how he’s still pressing himself against Spencer, Ryan’s erection squashed between their stomachs, sliding against Spencer’s skin with each tiny shift of either of their bodies. Spencer’s cock is definitely recovering, filling out as if it hadn’t been just minutes ago, if that.
Spencer grins and sucks harder before he pulls back. Ryan’s skin is angry and red, and he doesn’t think it will fade anytime soon. “Bet Pete could never do that, even if he wanted to,” he says, and he can’t quite help the smug note in his voice.
Ryan exhales and props himself up on his elbows. “Spencer,” he says.
“No, I know,” Spencer says. “You can wear scarves or something, to cover it up. I just really wanted to-”
“Pete,” Ryan interrupts him, “has nothing to do with this. With us.”
Spencer wants to argue, wants to say that Pete was the first to do this to Ryan, that Pete could have been in Spencer’s position if he hadn’t thrown it away so carelessly. Ryan is staring up at him with serious eyes, and Spencer can’t make Ryan suffer for another one of Spencer’s insecurities. He’ll get over it. And while Spencer is fairly certain that Pete didn’t lack confidence in bed, Ryan seemed pretty far from complaining so far.
“No,” Spencer says, “he doesn’t. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to… leave a mark.”
“You already have,” Ryan says softly, and oh God, it should be cheesy and cliché, but Ryan’s eyes are dark and Spencer doesn’t feel like laughing at all. He nods jerkily, and then Ryan wraps slick fingers around Spencer’s cock, squeezes once before he strokes along the length, coating him in lube, preparing him for-
Spencer actually has to close his eyes, just for a moment, so as to keep from coming again right away. That’d be plain embarrassing.
“Spencer,” Ryan breathes. “Look at me.”
Because it’s not like Spencer can refuse Ryan anything at this point, he does, moving his hips slightly into Ryan’s touch. “Yes,” he says, and he’s not exactly sure what he means. Please, maybe.
“I’m ready,” Ryan says.
Spencer swallows thickly before he nods, leaning down for a light brush of their lips as he adjusts his position. He doesn’t think it’s going to work at this angle, but then Ryan lets his hand fall to the mattress and pulls his knees up, opening and offering himself, and that, just, yes, that could work, shit. Spencer bites down on his lower lip and grips the base of his own cock, slick and hot against his palm as he pushes forward. Ryan arches into him without any hesitation, pulling him closer with a tight grip on Spencer’s hips, closer and forward and… inside, oh God, and it’s tight and Ryan’s face is scrunched up in concentration and their position is utterly wrong for it, but Spencer strains to kiss him anyway.
“Okay?” he mumbles into Ryan’s mouth.
Ryan’s lips part under him and he jerks his head. “Yes, always, want you, just. Give me a moment.”
Spencer tries. He focuses on Ryan’s face, the flash of teeth as Ryan bites down on his lower lip, anything but the hot squeeze around his cock that’s almost too much to stay still. He does, though.
“Okay,” Ryan says after a mere few seconds. Without any prior warning, he lifts his hips off the bed, making Spencer slide in another inch, fully inside now, and Spencer’s gasp is harsh, dragged from him by surprise. Ryan smiles up at him. “If you think you could consider moving,” he begins, and before he can finish the sentence, Spencer already slides out before he thrusts back in, trying to make it a steady, slow movement.
“Moving?” he asks. “Like that?”
Ryan blinks up at him, a somewhat intoxicated look to his eyes, and hums something that sounds a lot like agreement. It’s almost painful, how much Spencer wants him. And the thing is that…
The thing is that he has him.
“Ryan,” he says, and the moment Ryan’s eyes focus on him, he withdraws and pauses, holding Ryan’s gaze. Ryan opens his mouth, but Spencer cuts him off before Ryan can say whatever it is he wanted to say. “I love you,” Spencer says, clear and sure, and then he pushes into Ryan with enough force to make him slide up a few inches on the mattress.
Ryan gasps and it’s easier, now, Spencer’s got the rhythm; he fucks into Ryan steadily, pauses for a moment to let Ryan wrap long legs up around Spencer’s waist, and then they move together, Ryan arching up towards him, Spencer remembering to wrap his hand around Ryan’s cock (and Ryan says something, half-garbled so that Spencer can’t pick it up, pushing himself into Spencer’s grip). It’s beyond good, overwhelming, Ryan clenching around him, grabbing at Spencer’s forearms at one point to steady himself, and Spencer drives in hard one last time, and comes deep inside Ryan, arms trembling beneath him. He thinks, oh, and then Ryan’s coming against his stomach, and Spencer gives up trying to stay upright, tumbling to the side and laughing, stupid and breathless.
He pulls out while Ryan’s still got a faintly glazed expression in his eyes, and then he throws a leg over Ryan’s body and nuzzles up to his neck, kissing sloppily along his jaw. “Ry-an,” he singsongs, and nudges his nose against Ryan’s. “Ryan, are you ignoring me?”
“Hnh,” Ryan says. Spencer’s not really sure what that means, but it was said in a faintly contradictory tone, so he bites back a laugh and touches Ryan’s skin, his arm, his chest, the side of his face, his hip, his ass, everywhere Spencer can reach.
He says, cheerfully, “Let’s do that again!”
--
“Oh my God,” Ryan says the next morning, blinking as the morning light streams through their window. “I am never going to move again. My bones have turned into lead.”
“I am a God,” Spencer says smugly.
Ryan says, “You’re disgusting, that’s what you are. We need a bath.”
“Hey,” Spencer says, sitting up and waggling his eyebrows. “Bath.”
“Oh my God,” Ryan says. He rolls over and says, “I’m having my own bath.”
“You are not,” Spencer says, affronted. “I’m your husband. It’s your duty to fulfil my needs.”
“I already did,” Ryan points out. “Like, three times. No, wait, four.”
“Because you love me,” Spencer says.
“I’m beginning to regret that decision,” Ryan says. “I think it was poorly made. With little thought. I’ll have to get back to you on it.”
“I know,” Spencer says, sadly. “You have gone against everything that should be considered - my birth, my rank, the expectations of your friends and family, my flings with the militia-”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Ryan says, rolling back over to grin at Spencer. “It’s not my fault that I’m-”
“Incredibly bad at proposing?” Spencer suggests.
“Yes,” Ryan says, and then looks annoyed when Spencer starts to giggle. “Hey,” he says, curling in closer to Spencer’s body to kiss him. Spencer thinks it’s good that both of their breath is kind of awful right now, because it means that neither of them can taste it, or care. Ryan kisses a little sloppily, mouth moving warm and familiar against Spencer’s, and he mumbles, “I managed to get you here somehow, anyway, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Spencer says, looking at Ryan in the warm, golden light of morning, smiling and rumpled against his pillow, with funny looking hair and shadows under his eyes from not enough sleep. Outside the window is Pemberley, and Spencer thinks that maybe later today he’ll take a book out and row one of the little boats into the middle of the lake, sit there and read. There’s a lot of ground to be explored, too; Ryan will come with him, Spencer knows. There are so many possibilities, and it’s silly to want to just stay here all morning. And yet, and yet; he sprawls over Ryan again, weighing him down and pressing close, eyes closed and breathing out against Ryan’s neck, and he says, “Somehow.”
=== The End. No, really. ===