Positive (Chapter 4)
Title: Positive
Author: xojemmaxo
Rating: Nc-17 (This chapter :D)
Pairing: RyWalk
POV: Third
Summary: "A manual," repeats Ryan. "Is there one for when it's born?" he asks Jon hopefully. "Like, what you're meant to do with it?"
Disclaimer: I don't own The Young Veins, Panic! at the Disco, or any of their respective members. I do own Ryan's unborn baby, though.
Beta: hooray4irony luff you.
Author Notes: This chapter has an actual sex scene in it. :O. Constructive critisism is welcome on it, because in my opinion I suck at sex scenes (unless it's rape >:D) and want to get better at them. Besides that, enjoy this chapter (it's longer than the others, hooray!).
The Telling of the Bad News (Chapter 1)
The Ultrasound and the Jelly Bean (Chapter 2)
The Coffee Shop and the Accusation (Chapter 3)
Jon stays the night at Ryan's apartment, mainly to calm Ryan down. They end up watching Sienfeld reruns on the couch, Jon's front pressed against Ryan's back and his arms tight around the smaller man. Ryan falls alseep sometime around 11 and Jon uses the remote to turn the tv off, prefering the sound of Ryan's even breathing to the mindless humour on the screen.
Ryan wakes up to see faint sunlight under the heavy curtains of the window behind the tv. He glances down - past Jon's arm, which is solid against his chest - and checks the time on the dvd player. It's a little past five o'clock. Ryan feels sleepy, too tired to function properly, but through the haze he again feels dizzy and the need to piss. He tries to manouver himself into a sitting position but Jon pulls him down again, snuffling something about 'cold' and 'stay'. Ryan does,sinking back down into Jon's chest and feeling his boyfriend breathe into the back of his neck. Ryan doesn't go back to sleep.
When Jon wakes up again, Ryan doesn't know how long it's been, it feels like minutes but he's probably been laying there for an hour. Jon stops softly snoring and mumbles, "You awake?"
"Yeah," Ryan says, and his voice is throaty and his tongue is dry.
"Okay." Jon clambers over Ryan to the end of the couch and lays down on his stomach so his feet are hanging over the arm of the couch. His arms are leaning on Ryan's thighs and his head is hovering over Ryan's lower stomach.
"What are you doing?" asks Ryan, but he already knows because this is what Jon always does after they have a fight.
"Mmm, nothing much," says Jon. He inches his fingers up one leg of Ryan's jeans and wipes away some sleep from his eyes before unzipping Ryan's pants and pulling them down a little, just enough to do what he's doing.
Ryan squirms a little so he's comfortable, even though he's sort of wedged between the cushions and the back of the couch and his neck's twisted at an awkward angle. He watches Jon inch his underwear down, revealing skin, skin, then dark hair.
"I'm really sorry about last night," murmurs Jon. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
"Too bad," says Ryan playfully. "I'll never forgive you."
"I bet you will." Jon grins as he pulls Ryan's underwear down the rest of the way and Ryan's cock bobs free of the fabric, more awake than Ryan realised. Jon takes Ryan's cock into his hand, fondling it slow and firm like he knows Ryan likes.
Ryan sighs, relaxing further into the couch. He bucks his hips up a little when Jon takes him into his mouth and Jon has to hold his hips down with an arm to stop himself from choking.
Ryan says, "Can you-" Then stops, because something in his stomach turns and he suddenly needs to vomit. "Oh, fuck," he says, and Jon must realise he says it in a different sense to pleasure because he pulls back, sleepy eyes concerned, and asks Ryan, "You okay?"
Ryan doesn't reply, just tucks himself back into his pants as quickly as he can while getting up off the couch and running to the bathroom.
Jon finds Ryan on his knees in front of the toilet, shoulders heaving as he retches and vomits into the bowl. Jon kneels beside Ryan and doesn't hold his hair back because it's too short to get in the way. Instead he rubs Ryan's back through his shirt and hopes he's making a difference.
When Ryan's done throwing up, or at least Jon hopes because he doesn't know how much more of seeing Ryan like this he can take, Ryan leans back, his eyes heavy and harrowed and vomit stuck in the corner of his mouth. Jon gets a wet handtowel and wipes Ryan's mouth, then gets a glass of water so Ryan can wash out the taste. He calls Mr. Iero and tells him Ryan's sick and won't be coming in today. When he comes back into the bathroom, Ryan looks at him thankfully and says, "I'm taking a raincheck on the blowjob."
Jon smiles and asks if Ryan will be okay at his apartment by himself, because Jon's an hour late for work and he should probably get going. Ryan's smile fades a little, but he nods and says, "Yeah. I'll be fine."
"I'm sorry, Honey," Jon says apologetically. He leans down and kisses Ryan on the cheek. "But if I don't go to work, I won't have an apartment by next Tuesday." Jon pauses to graze his lips fleetingly over Ryan's jaw. "I'll come back here after work," he promises.
Ryan smiles and nods like it's all okay, like he doesn't need Jon there so he won't dwell on his thoughts and go crazy with the fear.
"Okay. I'll see you at five, okay?" Jon's smile is warm as he stands. "I love you," he tells Ryan.
"Love you too," says Ryan, and he means it, but Jon's gone before he can hear. Ryan waits until he hears the apartment door shut before he flushes the toilet and stands slowly, fresh nausea settling in his stomach as he does so. He teeters to the couch where he was going to get blown ten minutes ago, if the fetus hadn't ruined it, and collapses, grabbing the remote and resigning himself to a day of daytime television.
He falls asleep sometimes between Oprah and some cooking show due to the absolute exhaustion racking his body, and wakes up to Jon shaking his shoulder gently and murmuring his name. Ryan thinks, holy shit, it's six already, then fuck, I wasted a whole day, then opens his eyes. Jon's looking down at him with a smile, as always. Ryan smiles sleepily up at him.
"Hi," he says. His voice is scratchy and his throat hurts; he must have been snoring like a bitch. Jon rubs his shoulder and says, "I got some stuff on the way home from work."
"Like." Ryan coughs. "Sexy things?"
Jon chuckles. "Nah. They're - you're gonna hate me, but I got -" He holds up three books; Ryan strains his eyes to read the titles in the dim light of his apartment. He makes out one and frowns, his stomach dropping in disappointment.
"What to Expect When You're Expecting?" he enquires sceptically. Jon's smile drops a little, but he joins Ryan on the couch, or rather, sits in the small space in front of Ryan's stomach, because that's the most Ryan's going to move over, and puts the two other books beside him. He hands Ryan the first book.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," says Jon quickly, as Ryan looks in distaste at the drawings of two chubby infants on the front cover. "It's just, like - a manual. For when you're pregnant. What to do if you experience certain symptoms and which ones are normal, what times during the pregnancy you're meant to go for ultrasounds, what you should eat and morning sickness remedies."
Morning sickness. So that's probably what Ryan had that morning. He wonders if Jon knew it was that.
"A manual," repeats Ryan. "Is there one for when it's born?" he asks Jon hopefully. "Like, what you're meant to do with it?"
"Well, that's what this one is," says Jon. He holds up the second book. This one's got the title Baby and You superimposed over a photo of a smiling mother holding a smiling baby. It looks too perfect, like a trap. "It's tips and stuff for new mothers, or fathers," he adds, when Ryan glares at him. "It's supposed to make the 'first time parent' thing easier."
"Oh," says Ryan. "Where did you get these?" he asks, flourishing the two books.
"Oh, I, um, went down to that bookstore on Fifth Avenue in my lunchbreak and got them," admits Jon sheepishly.
Ryan smiles exasperatedly. "You love me too much, Walker," he accuses. Jon grins, the one reserved for when Ryan's being unusually sweet - like now, for instance. "What's the other book?" Ryan asks, and Jon reaches behind himself and hands it to him.
"It's, um, that Chuck Palahnuik book you wanted," Jon mumbles, hunching his shoulders.
"Oh," says Ryan. Then, "Oh, Jon." Ryan sits up and hugs him. "Thank you," he says, placing a kiss to the corner of Jon's mouth, remembering he probably still has vomity sleep breath and not kissing him full on the mouth just in time.
"Anytime," says Jon, and they forget to break the hug until Ryan murmurs, "I'm kind of starving."
"Way to ruin the mood," says Jon teasingly. "I'll go make something for us."
"No, I'll do it," says Ryan. "You've been at work all day. I've been lying on the couch." And granted, the couch isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it has to be better than Jon's job as a computer technician at a big company in a grey building where he doesn't get paid enough; hardly enough to pay his rent.
Life's unfair, thinks Ryan sadly, and blames it on the hormones that must be raging in his system.
"How about we boh make it. Then it's fair," says Jon, and Ryan rolls his eyes but agrees.
They have stir-fry. Jon makes most of it, since Ryan's a terrible cook and the best he can do is grate cheese and chop vegetables; nothing that invloves a stove because he can't cook anything without burning it. They eat sprawled on the floor, after Ryan declares it'll reduce wear and tear on the table and chairs. He's feigning drunkness because Jon stopped him when Ryan reached into his fridge for a beer - and how was Ryan supposed to know drinking can harm the fetus? He thought that was only smoking. And fuck, he's gonna have to give up smoking. Jon's had a couple beers, only a few, so he's just a bit tipsy, a bit more touchy and warm and Jon than normal.
A tea towel fight during the washing up of the dishes leads to a game of what Jon likes to call 'sexy tag', then to a heavy make out session on the floor in the hall, inches from the door to Ryan's room, but on the way there Jon tripped and Ryan tripped and they fell on the floor and laughed, and then kissed, and now Ryan's underneath Jon, pushing up with his hips when Jon presses down.
"Fuck, fuck, Jon, fuck," Ryan's chanting elegantly, while Jon's making a steady grunting noise everytime he rubs against Ryan.
"Fuck, fuck, bed, Jon, bed," groans Ryan, because his elbows are getting murdered by the carpet he's leaning on. Jon gets the hint, tugging Ryan up as he stands and pulls him urgently through Ryan's bedroom door.
The bed's soft when Jon pushes Ryan down onto his back. Ryan pulls his shirt off and struggles to get his pants off, too, but then Jon's there, already naked and hard, cock straining against his stomach, and pulls them off for him, drags Ryan's underwear down by his thumbs hooked in the waistband. Ryan's panting and overheated when Jon throws them somewhere unimportant. He comes back to Ryan all hard, desperate heat and Ryan wants.
Ryan reaches out his arms for him, twisting and striving for contact until Jon's on top of him, knees on either side of Ryan's hips, kissing him roughly. Ryan tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Jon's neck and pulls him closer, biting Jon's lower lip and panting into his mouth as Jon reaches down and grabs Ryan's dick, stroking quickly and Ryan needs more.
"Fuck, Jon, fuck, I need-" begins Ryan, but Jon's already kneeling up again and snatching a condom and lube from Ryan's beside table drawer. Ryan looks on, breathing heavily and staring at Jon's flushed cock and fighting the urge to touch himself. He reaches out to touch Jon instead, running his fingers lightly over the base of his cock and smirking when Jon shivers and strives harder to open the cap on the lube.
Jon knocks Ryan's hands aside as he reaches down with with two slicked fingers, nudging Ryan's left knee open more with his other hand. Ryan relaxes as Jon pushes his fingers inside - none too gently, but he knows Ryan likes that - and curls them, oh so nearly brushing Ryan's prostate. Ryan lets out a groan at the almost friction and rolls his hips down. Jon's fingers slip deeper and oh.
"Oh, fuck," groans Ryan. Jon pulls out then adds a third finger, pushing deeper as Ryan twists in the sheets. Thereby deciding Ryan's stretched enough, he pulls his fingers out and Ryan hisses a little, but a thrill of anticipation runs through him when Jon rips open the foil packet and begins rolling on the condom. Ryan reaches out his hands to help and mostly gets in the way, but he doesn't care, just wants Jon in him now.
"Ready?" Jon asks, voice deeper than it normally is. Ryan nods, lips parted, and Jon lines himself up with one hand. Ryan lets out a sigh as Jon pushes in, like he was missing the stretch and being so full.
"Fuck," says Jon. Ryan agrees with a moan, which echoes through the bedroom and coaxes Jon to move. He goes slow at first, like he always does, just in case. Ryan rolls his eyes and his hips, telling Jon without words that it's alright to go faster, he wants it. Jon does.
"Harder," grunts Ryan, hands twisted in the sheets because Jon is just brushing past his prostate. Jon's trying to get a better angle, slowing down the speed of his thrusts as he lifts Ryan's leg onto his shoulder. Ryan moves his other one up there, two, and twists his feet together behind Jon's head. Jon hits Ryan's prostate dead on, and again, and Ryan bites back a scream. Fuck, it feels good.
"Harder!" he insists, rolling his hips up lethally to make Jon do as he asks.
"Wait, no," says Jon, halting movement altogether, and now Ryan's pissed.
"No? What do you mean, no? I was about five seconds away from coming!" Ryan can feel the pleasure ebbing away and he reaches down to reassure his dick.
"'No' as in me going too deep or hard might hurt the baby!" says Jon, and Ryan's not sure he's seen Jon this mad before.
"Jon! It will be fine! It's not even a fucking baby! Now fuck me!"
Jon's pissed off, Ryan can tell by the way he continues pounding into Ryan even harder; short, pain-causing strokes.
"Ow, fuck, Jon!" says Ryan indignantly, as his legs slip from Jon's shoulders with the jerking of his body. Jon just looks him in the eyes and slams once into Ryan's prostate, and fuck.
Ryan bites his lip as he comes, body twisting and Jon still driving into him through the haze of his orgasm to the point of over-stimulation. Jon comes, too, a moment later, jerking inside Ryan and emitting a deep, throaty groan.
Ryan pretty much collapses afterwards, body aching, especially his ass, and his bones humming. He feels sleepy and closes his eyes as Jon pulls out and disposes of the condom. He comes back to the bed and lies down beside Ryan but doesn't touch him. Ryan knows he's still mad so he rolls to his side and lays his head on Jon's sweaty chest. Jon doesn't react.
"I'm sorry," murmurs Ryan. "I didn't mean it."
Jon sighs.
"I'm sorry you have to go through this, Ryan," is all he says before he drapes the sheets around them both and pulls Ryan closer, breathing into his hair until they both fall asleep.
Author: xojemmaxo
Rating: Nc-17 (This chapter :D)
Pairing: RyWalk
POV: Third
Summary: "A manual," repeats Ryan. "Is there one for when it's born?" he asks Jon hopefully. "Like, what you're meant to do with it?"
Disclaimer: I don't own The Young Veins, Panic! at the Disco, or any of their respective members. I do own Ryan's unborn baby, though.
Beta: hooray4irony luff you.
Author Notes: This chapter has an actual sex scene in it. :O. Constructive critisism is welcome on it, because in my opinion I suck at sex scenes (unless it's rape >:D) and want to get better at them. Besides that, enjoy this chapter (it's longer than the others, hooray!).
The Telling of the Bad News (Chapter 1)
The Ultrasound and the Jelly Bean (Chapter 2)
The Coffee Shop and the Accusation (Chapter 3)
Jon stays the night at Ryan's apartment, mainly to calm Ryan down. They end up watching Sienfeld reruns on the couch, Jon's front pressed against Ryan's back and his arms tight around the smaller man. Ryan falls alseep sometime around 11 and Jon uses the remote to turn the tv off, prefering the sound of Ryan's even breathing to the mindless humour on the screen.
Ryan wakes up to see faint sunlight under the heavy curtains of the window behind the tv. He glances down - past Jon's arm, which is solid against his chest - and checks the time on the dvd player. It's a little past five o'clock. Ryan feels sleepy, too tired to function properly, but through the haze he again feels dizzy and the need to piss. He tries to manouver himself into a sitting position but Jon pulls him down again, snuffling something about 'cold' and 'stay'. Ryan does,sinking back down into Jon's chest and feeling his boyfriend breathe into the back of his neck. Ryan doesn't go back to sleep.
When Jon wakes up again, Ryan doesn't know how long it's been, it feels like minutes but he's probably been laying there for an hour. Jon stops softly snoring and mumbles, "You awake?"
"Yeah," Ryan says, and his voice is throaty and his tongue is dry.
"Okay." Jon clambers over Ryan to the end of the couch and lays down on his stomach so his feet are hanging over the arm of the couch. His arms are leaning on Ryan's thighs and his head is hovering over Ryan's lower stomach.
"What are you doing?" asks Ryan, but he already knows because this is what Jon always does after they have a fight.
"Mmm, nothing much," says Jon. He inches his fingers up one leg of Ryan's jeans and wipes away some sleep from his eyes before unzipping Ryan's pants and pulling them down a little, just enough to do what he's doing.
Ryan squirms a little so he's comfortable, even though he's sort of wedged between the cushions and the back of the couch and his neck's twisted at an awkward angle. He watches Jon inch his underwear down, revealing skin, skin, then dark hair.
"I'm really sorry about last night," murmurs Jon. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
"Too bad," says Ryan playfully. "I'll never forgive you."
"I bet you will." Jon grins as he pulls Ryan's underwear down the rest of the way and Ryan's cock bobs free of the fabric, more awake than Ryan realised. Jon takes Ryan's cock into his hand, fondling it slow and firm like he knows Ryan likes.
Ryan sighs, relaxing further into the couch. He bucks his hips up a little when Jon takes him into his mouth and Jon has to hold his hips down with an arm to stop himself from choking.
Ryan says, "Can you-" Then stops, because something in his stomach turns and he suddenly needs to vomit. "Oh, fuck," he says, and Jon must realise he says it in a different sense to pleasure because he pulls back, sleepy eyes concerned, and asks Ryan, "You okay?"
Ryan doesn't reply, just tucks himself back into his pants as quickly as he can while getting up off the couch and running to the bathroom.
Jon finds Ryan on his knees in front of the toilet, shoulders heaving as he retches and vomits into the bowl. Jon kneels beside Ryan and doesn't hold his hair back because it's too short to get in the way. Instead he rubs Ryan's back through his shirt and hopes he's making a difference.
When Ryan's done throwing up, or at least Jon hopes because he doesn't know how much more of seeing Ryan like this he can take, Ryan leans back, his eyes heavy and harrowed and vomit stuck in the corner of his mouth. Jon gets a wet handtowel and wipes Ryan's mouth, then gets a glass of water so Ryan can wash out the taste. He calls Mr. Iero and tells him Ryan's sick and won't be coming in today. When he comes back into the bathroom, Ryan looks at him thankfully and says, "I'm taking a raincheck on the blowjob."
Jon smiles and asks if Ryan will be okay at his apartment by himself, because Jon's an hour late for work and he should probably get going. Ryan's smile fades a little, but he nods and says, "Yeah. I'll be fine."
"I'm sorry, Honey," Jon says apologetically. He leans down and kisses Ryan on the cheek. "But if I don't go to work, I won't have an apartment by next Tuesday." Jon pauses to graze his lips fleetingly over Ryan's jaw. "I'll come back here after work," he promises.
Ryan smiles and nods like it's all okay, like he doesn't need Jon there so he won't dwell on his thoughts and go crazy with the fear.
"Okay. I'll see you at five, okay?" Jon's smile is warm as he stands. "I love you," he tells Ryan.
"Love you too," says Ryan, and he means it, but Jon's gone before he can hear. Ryan waits until he hears the apartment door shut before he flushes the toilet and stands slowly, fresh nausea settling in his stomach as he does so. He teeters to the couch where he was going to get blown ten minutes ago, if the fetus hadn't ruined it, and collapses, grabbing the remote and resigning himself to a day of daytime television.
He falls asleep sometimes between Oprah and some cooking show due to the absolute exhaustion racking his body, and wakes up to Jon shaking his shoulder gently and murmuring his name. Ryan thinks, holy shit, it's six already, then fuck, I wasted a whole day, then opens his eyes. Jon's looking down at him with a smile, as always. Ryan smiles sleepily up at him.
"Hi," he says. His voice is scratchy and his throat hurts; he must have been snoring like a bitch. Jon rubs his shoulder and says, "I got some stuff on the way home from work."
"Like." Ryan coughs. "Sexy things?"
Jon chuckles. "Nah. They're - you're gonna hate me, but I got -" He holds up three books; Ryan strains his eyes to read the titles in the dim light of his apartment. He makes out one and frowns, his stomach dropping in disappointment.
"What to Expect When You're Expecting?" he enquires sceptically. Jon's smile drops a little, but he joins Ryan on the couch, or rather, sits in the small space in front of Ryan's stomach, because that's the most Ryan's going to move over, and puts the two other books beside him. He hands Ryan the first book.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," says Jon quickly, as Ryan looks in distaste at the drawings of two chubby infants on the front cover. "It's just, like - a manual. For when you're pregnant. What to do if you experience certain symptoms and which ones are normal, what times during the pregnancy you're meant to go for ultrasounds, what you should eat and morning sickness remedies."
Morning sickness. So that's probably what Ryan had that morning. He wonders if Jon knew it was that.
"A manual," repeats Ryan. "Is there one for when it's born?" he asks Jon hopefully. "Like, what you're meant to do with it?"
"Well, that's what this one is," says Jon. He holds up the second book. This one's got the title Baby and You superimposed over a photo of a smiling mother holding a smiling baby. It looks too perfect, like a trap. "It's tips and stuff for new mothers, or fathers," he adds, when Ryan glares at him. "It's supposed to make the 'first time parent' thing easier."
"Oh," says Ryan. "Where did you get these?" he asks, flourishing the two books.
"Oh, I, um, went down to that bookstore on Fifth Avenue in my lunchbreak and got them," admits Jon sheepishly.
Ryan smiles exasperatedly. "You love me too much, Walker," he accuses. Jon grins, the one reserved for when Ryan's being unusually sweet - like now, for instance. "What's the other book?" Ryan asks, and Jon reaches behind himself and hands it to him.
"It's, um, that Chuck Palahnuik book you wanted," Jon mumbles, hunching his shoulders.
"Oh," says Ryan. Then, "Oh, Jon." Ryan sits up and hugs him. "Thank you," he says, placing a kiss to the corner of Jon's mouth, remembering he probably still has vomity sleep breath and not kissing him full on the mouth just in time.
"Anytime," says Jon, and they forget to break the hug until Ryan murmurs, "I'm kind of starving."
"Way to ruin the mood," says Jon teasingly. "I'll go make something for us."
"No, I'll do it," says Ryan. "You've been at work all day. I've been lying on the couch." And granted, the couch isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it has to be better than Jon's job as a computer technician at a big company in a grey building where he doesn't get paid enough; hardly enough to pay his rent.
Life's unfair, thinks Ryan sadly, and blames it on the hormones that must be raging in his system.
"How about we boh make it. Then it's fair," says Jon, and Ryan rolls his eyes but agrees.
They have stir-fry. Jon makes most of it, since Ryan's a terrible cook and the best he can do is grate cheese and chop vegetables; nothing that invloves a stove because he can't cook anything without burning it. They eat sprawled on the floor, after Ryan declares it'll reduce wear and tear on the table and chairs. He's feigning drunkness because Jon stopped him when Ryan reached into his fridge for a beer - and how was Ryan supposed to know drinking can harm the fetus? He thought that was only smoking. And fuck, he's gonna have to give up smoking. Jon's had a couple beers, only a few, so he's just a bit tipsy, a bit more touchy and warm and Jon than normal.
A tea towel fight during the washing up of the dishes leads to a game of what Jon likes to call 'sexy tag', then to a heavy make out session on the floor in the hall, inches from the door to Ryan's room, but on the way there Jon tripped and Ryan tripped and they fell on the floor and laughed, and then kissed, and now Ryan's underneath Jon, pushing up with his hips when Jon presses down.
"Fuck, fuck, Jon, fuck," Ryan's chanting elegantly, while Jon's making a steady grunting noise everytime he rubs against Ryan.
"Fuck, fuck, bed, Jon, bed," groans Ryan, because his elbows are getting murdered by the carpet he's leaning on. Jon gets the hint, tugging Ryan up as he stands and pulls him urgently through Ryan's bedroom door.
The bed's soft when Jon pushes Ryan down onto his back. Ryan pulls his shirt off and struggles to get his pants off, too, but then Jon's there, already naked and hard, cock straining against his stomach, and pulls them off for him, drags Ryan's underwear down by his thumbs hooked in the waistband. Ryan's panting and overheated when Jon throws them somewhere unimportant. He comes back to Ryan all hard, desperate heat and Ryan wants.
Ryan reaches out his arms for him, twisting and striving for contact until Jon's on top of him, knees on either side of Ryan's hips, kissing him roughly. Ryan tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Jon's neck and pulls him closer, biting Jon's lower lip and panting into his mouth as Jon reaches down and grabs Ryan's dick, stroking quickly and Ryan needs more.
"Fuck, Jon, fuck, I need-" begins Ryan, but Jon's already kneeling up again and snatching a condom and lube from Ryan's beside table drawer. Ryan looks on, breathing heavily and staring at Jon's flushed cock and fighting the urge to touch himself. He reaches out to touch Jon instead, running his fingers lightly over the base of his cock and smirking when Jon shivers and strives harder to open the cap on the lube.
Jon knocks Ryan's hands aside as he reaches down with with two slicked fingers, nudging Ryan's left knee open more with his other hand. Ryan relaxes as Jon pushes his fingers inside - none too gently, but he knows Ryan likes that - and curls them, oh so nearly brushing Ryan's prostate. Ryan lets out a groan at the almost friction and rolls his hips down. Jon's fingers slip deeper and oh.
"Oh, fuck," groans Ryan. Jon pulls out then adds a third finger, pushing deeper as Ryan twists in the sheets. Thereby deciding Ryan's stretched enough, he pulls his fingers out and Ryan hisses a little, but a thrill of anticipation runs through him when Jon rips open the foil packet and begins rolling on the condom. Ryan reaches out his hands to help and mostly gets in the way, but he doesn't care, just wants Jon in him now.
"Ready?" Jon asks, voice deeper than it normally is. Ryan nods, lips parted, and Jon lines himself up with one hand. Ryan lets out a sigh as Jon pushes in, like he was missing the stretch and being so full.
"Fuck," says Jon. Ryan agrees with a moan, which echoes through the bedroom and coaxes Jon to move. He goes slow at first, like he always does, just in case. Ryan rolls his eyes and his hips, telling Jon without words that it's alright to go faster, he wants it. Jon does.
"Harder," grunts Ryan, hands twisted in the sheets because Jon is just brushing past his prostate. Jon's trying to get a better angle, slowing down the speed of his thrusts as he lifts Ryan's leg onto his shoulder. Ryan moves his other one up there, two, and twists his feet together behind Jon's head. Jon hits Ryan's prostate dead on, and again, and Ryan bites back a scream. Fuck, it feels good.
"Harder!" he insists, rolling his hips up lethally to make Jon do as he asks.
"Wait, no," says Jon, halting movement altogether, and now Ryan's pissed.
"No? What do you mean, no? I was about five seconds away from coming!" Ryan can feel the pleasure ebbing away and he reaches down to reassure his dick.
"'No' as in me going too deep or hard might hurt the baby!" says Jon, and Ryan's not sure he's seen Jon this mad before.
"Jon! It will be fine! It's not even a fucking baby! Now fuck me!"
Jon's pissed off, Ryan can tell by the way he continues pounding into Ryan even harder; short, pain-causing strokes.
"Ow, fuck, Jon!" says Ryan indignantly, as his legs slip from Jon's shoulders with the jerking of his body. Jon just looks him in the eyes and slams once into Ryan's prostate, and fuck.
Ryan bites his lip as he comes, body twisting and Jon still driving into him through the haze of his orgasm to the point of over-stimulation. Jon comes, too, a moment later, jerking inside Ryan and emitting a deep, throaty groan.
Ryan pretty much collapses afterwards, body aching, especially his ass, and his bones humming. He feels sleepy and closes his eyes as Jon pulls out and disposes of the condom. He comes back to the bed and lies down beside Ryan but doesn't touch him. Ryan knows he's still mad so he rolls to his side and lays his head on Jon's sweaty chest. Jon doesn't react.
"I'm sorry," murmurs Ryan. "I didn't mean it."
Jon sighs.
"I'm sorry you have to go through this, Ryan," is all he says before he drapes the sheets around them both and pulls Ryan closer, breathing into his hair until they both fall asleep.