Fic: A Gift Once Given, Part 3/3; R/J, NC-17 (Aka: And Four!! or, if you like, Merry Xmas)
For headers, etc., see Part One
Part Two
Ryan woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, hearing the strains of a song he was wholly unfamiliar with. He rubbed at his temples a bit, allowing himself to keep his eyes closed a bit longer. Then he got up and made his way down the stairs. He said, "I'm going to make some coffee, do you want--"
Jon took his hand off the neck of his guitar and held a steaming mug out to Ryan.
"Prescient of you," Ryan said, taking it gratefully.
"You mumble nonsensically when you're close to waking up," Jon said.
"Oh. Well, thanks."
"Yeah, it's my way of saying 'sorry I tried to kill you.'"
Ryan ignored this fit of pique. "What was that song? I've never heard it."
Jon shrugged. "Nothing. I was just fooling around."
It took Ryan a second, but then he said, "Wait. You mean you were writing that?"
"Not formally, or--"
Ryan didn't have time for Jon's self-deprecation this morning. "Will you play it again? Can you? Do you remember?"
"It's not really--"
"I know, I know, I get that, but I'll let you see my writing, like a trade. It's not really, um, anything, either."
Jon thought about the offer. "Will the words be too big for me to read?"
"You can ask, if you need."
Ryan was honestly about thirty seconds from pleading when Jon said, "Okay," and started strumming again.
***
Ryan finished his eleventh year of basic schooling four months early and didn't even pause. He knew Spencer was on track, which meant a year behind him, even if Ryan had been going at a normal pace. Ryan wasn't entirely sure how he was going to handle that situation. He thought he might see if any of the local schools, the ones close enough for spot-to-spot transport, would take him for a year, and then he could transfer somewhere farther, maybe even out of reach.
Colleges had living grounds. Ryan wasn't sure how safe Jon would be anywhere on Earth, but that had to be safer than here, with his dad. The spot-to-spot would make it easy for Ryan to see Spencer, and Jon to see Brendon.
Ryan could have the latter thought without wincing, now. Or, well, he mostly could.
***
It was weird to Ryan that he'd gotten so used to Jon's head on his knee, his shoulder against his thigh, that he could tell something was off when it was. He couldn't tell what was off, but there was definitely something. It was a fairly normal dinner. Ryan's father was telling Ryan about a colleague who might be able to make an in for Ryan with the Finance Exchange, and Ryan really should meet with him and, whatever, Ryan wasn't actually listening. Jon didn't seem stressed out or actively upset, there was just something not quite right about the way he was holding his body against Ryan's.
As such, Ryan demured more than usual to his father's opinions, made sure not to start fights, and excused himself as soon as could be possibly deemed reasonable. He tried to walk normally until he knew his father couldn't see and then he hauled ass back to his room, where he shut the door and said, "What? What is it?"
Jon had crawled, as he generally did when Ryan's father could see. He was still on his hands and his knees, more hunched over than normal and Ryan got down just in time for Jon to start coughing and sneezing almost simultaneously, his body racked with it. Ryan couldn't help it, he sighed with relief. "Oh."
Jon finished up with the worst of the coughing and sniffled pitifully, lying down where he was. Ryan rolled his eyes. "Not hardly," and herded Jon up, up the stairs, wrapping him in blankets. "Stay," he said.
Jon just coughed in response. Ryan said, "Right, okay."
He went to the bathroom and found the cold solvent he kept around in case he started feeling a little ill. He risked a trip to the kitchen for some peppermint tea, and then came back to the room. He made Jon put the solvent under his tongue and said, "It'll get warm, but just keep it down there." The warmth would dissolve the medication, which would coat his throat and his lungs, steaming up through his nasal passages to allow for breathing. Ryan made him drink the entire cup of tea and then said, "Sleep."
Jon fidgeted for a bit and Ryan was about to ask what was wrong when Jon managed to get his hand out from beneath the blankets and clutch it in Ryan's. Ryan said, "Okay. Okay. I'm here. You can sleep."
Jon settled then, and did as told. Ryan pried himself loose, put the cup away, changed into his pajamas and brought a hand towel to wipe some of the worst of the fever from Jon. When that was done, he brought an extra blanket into the bed and curled up near to Jon, where he could be found easily if he was needed.
***
It took about three days for Jon to get fully better. Dinner was hell for two of them--Ryan's father ate out one of the nights, and Ryan had never been so glad in his entire life. Brendon and Spencer came over, mostly just to keep Ryan company, since Jon couldn't stay awake for longer than it took to eat a bowl of soup. Brendon got him in the shower, as Ryan adamantly refused to get Jon naked without Jon's permission or help.
Jon came back from the shower in sweats and looking slightly more human. Brendon came back slightly waterlogged. Spencer laughed at Brendon while Ryan put Jon back to bed.
Ryan kept himself on enough vitamin C to effectively kill his liver and echinacea tea. It seemed to work, since by the time Jon was able to sit up for longer than half an hour, Ryan still wasn't feeling badly, and he hadn't much moved from their room since it had started.
Brendon managed to get sick and the Smiths made him stay home, but by that time Jon was feeling well enough to go visit, so they made orange juice--well, they cut oranges and stuck them in the juicer--and went to go make him feel better.
When Brendon was acting more like himself--it took him longer than Jon, but he'd been less willing to just sleep it off--Ryan asked Jon, "You want me to, y'know, spend the night at Spencer's?"
Jon looked perplexed. "Um. I guess if you want to?"
Ryan really didn't want to have to be the one to say, "So that you and Brendon--" but there was nobody else to say it, so.
"Oh," Jon said, looking like that cleared things up. "We're not, uh. We haven't been for a while."
Ryan wasn't entirely sure how he'd missed that, except that he'd been trying really hard not to pay attention, so there was that. "Sorry?"
"Really?" Jon asked softly.
"I don't want you hurt," Ryan told him honestly. "I don't want Brendon hurt." It wasn't an answer, Ryan knew.
Jon played with the hair over his ear. "Do you really think that love and sex are the same thing?"
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid because I'm sheltered," Ryan said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Jon sighed and touched his fingers to Ryan's arms. "I didn't-- Not like that. I just, Brendon was... I needed to have fun, right? To know that I could. And he would get that, even if he wasn't really like me, not in the end. But it was easy for me to do things with him and know that there wouldn't be consequences. Do you-- Do you understand at all?"
Ryan opened his mouth and finally said, "I'm trying."
Jon smiled. "Okay."
Ryan laughed, but then asked, "And it worked? It helped?"
"Brendon's sweet," Jon said, which wasn't an answer, but Ryan accepted it.
Ryan asked, "Wanna spend the night at Spence's anyway?"
"His mom makes really good cookies," Jon said.
"She does," Ryan agreed gravely. "She does."
***
Jon kissed Ryan for the first time on a day in early spring. It was hot outside--the temperature modulators getting a bit ahead of themselves--but not quite hot enough to discourage them from lounging on the roof, chests bared to the sun. Ryan was supposed to be doing coursework, but it wasn't as though he wasn't ahead, so mostly he was just lazing about, doing his cat impression. He heard Jon's low chuckle just before there were lips on his, and Ryan didn't have a lot of experience, or anything, but he knew what that signified. His eyes flew open and Jon pulled back a little, looking at him. "Okay?"
There had been two things Ryan had ever wanted in his life enough to give up anything for them: 1) Spencer's friendship and 2) to get off this planet, away from his father.
Having Jon lean back in and pick up where he had left off was the third. Ryan swallowed and asked, "Is this just gratitude?"
"I--" Jon faltered. "Hard to say. I'd be lying if I just said no."
Ryan bit the inside of his cheek until he was sure he could say what he needed to say without his voice breaking and said, "Then, no, not okay," and went back to pretending to relax.
***
"Brendon tells me you're cutting off your nose to spite your face."
"Really? Brendon said that?" Ryan asked drily.
"Actually, those were his exact words," Spencer said. "Sometimes he can be as dramatic as you."
"Quick learner."
Spencer's mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. "Ry."
Ryan shook his head. "He's wrong, Spence. He's wrong about this."
"Jon told him he kissed you."
"That part happened," Ryan acknowledged.
"And you turned him down."
"I asked him if it was gratitude, and he said it might be. I don't-- That's almost as bad as him doing it because I told him to. Don't act like you don't understand."
Spencer opened his mouth and just stood there for a while. Ryan was about to tell him he'd catch flies when Spencer said, "No, I get it. It's...yeah, I get it." He pulled Ryan to him, and Ryan didn't resist.
***
"You're not being fair," Jon said, once they got to Ryan's room. He was still naked, having just gotten back from dinner. Ryan desperately wanted him to put on some clothes. Instead he just looked to the side.
"Because I won't let you kiss me?" Ryan hazarded.
"Because you think it's so fucking simple," Jon said. "You think that because I might want you because you're nice to me, because you don't beat me or threaten me or starve me, that that means I can't have any other reason, or that those reasons have to be more important, and that's an asshole assumption to make about me or the situation or whatever."
"And maybe it's kind of assholish of you to think that I should take what you can give because that's what you have," Ryan snarled. "Like I can't find someone who likes me for me."
Jon's fists curled and then, abruptly, fell loose. "Wait. What?"
"I don't want you just because my dad had the money to buy you and I'm not a complete masochist. That's not good enough for me. It's not good enough for you, either, but I'm not in charge of straightening your brain out."
"Ryan, I meant that I couldn't say gratitude wasn't part of it. I didn't mean-- Oh. Huh."
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and took a step away from Jon, still not looking in his direction.
Jon said, "Ryan, gratitude has to be part of it. It's not fair of you to act like it can't be."
Ryan's gaze flickered to Jon's face. He could hear the, "But?"
"But mostly it's that... I mean, Brendon was fun. Which was new, and I liked that. It was better, way better than before. But I didn't, it wasn't... I think about you. Like that. Like, hot under the skin, heart beating. Like I want to know all the things I know if they make you say my name the way I want to hear it."
Jon's cheeks were red, but his eyes didn't leave Ryan's. Ryan said, "Oh."
"Do you-- If you want that, even just a little, then don't say no, okay? Just give it a chance. We can stop, if it's no good, or if one of us doesn't like it."
"It's not that easy," Ryan said, softly.
"No, but it's not-- You gave me the right to say no. Now we both have it. So it's not impossible."
"Afterward, though," Ryan said.
"We'll figure it out."
"Are you always this blase about consequences?"
Jon shifted on his feet, placing one foot atop the other. "Only when I trust the person likely to dole them out."
Ryan's breath caught. "Okay. We can try."
Jon's smile was shy and sweet and nothing like triumphant, but Ryan was starting to understand the subtext.
***
Jon was a very good kisser. Ryan didn't really have a lot to compare him to--a couple of makeout sessions with different kids that he'd met at one of the socialite networking societies his father had insisted he join--but all the same, he didn't think it was really a relative thing. If a person was good, well, it was pretty obvious. Jon could have him hard within seconds, and okay, admittedly, just thinking about kissing Jon did a lot of the work, but Jon was no slouch about making up the rest.
The first time, after they'd both gotten their hands on each other's cocks, discovered what there was to know--at least so far as that went--Ryan had laid back, feeling replete and unwound and said, "So, that's kind of all I have practice at."
Jon had rolled over onto him, grinning. "Not so much practice at that, either, huh?"
Ryan had smacked him and said, "Mean."
Jon laughed. "Yeah, I kind of am." He paused. "I'd forgotten. Or, hm. Maybe I never knew?"
Ryan cupped a hand behind Jon's neck and whispered, "I like it."
Jon laid down, his head coming to rest on Ryan's chest. "I don't know if I do."
"You'll figure it out," Ryan said, confident, for once, that he was right.
Jon said, "Yeah, well, you'll figure out the sex."
Ryan suspected he was going to need more help with that, than Jon with his inner-explorations. "Gonna teach me?"
Jon brought his head up, his chin digging a little into Ryan's torso. "Would you like that?"
Ryan thought of Jon's voice, how he hadn't recognized it as sexy at first, hadn't known that his body's reaction was more important than his mind's. The thought of Jon telling him what to do, showing him, nearly made Ryan hard again. As it was, Jon laughed and said, "I feel the answer to that one is 'yes'."
Ryan blushed and pretended to have too much dignity to answer. Jon said softly, "I think I like that."
Ryan smiled. "You'll figure it out."
***
Ryan had kind of expected Jon to go slowly, for both their sakes, but the first thing he did was to take Ryan unawares while he was studying the next day, pulling Ryan down in his seat just enough that he could open Ryan's pants and swallow him down. Literally, Jon took all of him in, throat closing tight around the head of Ryan's cock and Ryan screamed and came, just from that.
Jon swallowed and pulled back, looking up at Ryan with the most smug expression Ryan had ever seen on anyone's face, ever. Ryan said, "Glad someone's feeling proud," and pretended like his heart wasn't beating way too hard to go back to studying.
Jon, though, just sat down by him and said, "You make me feel hot."
Ryan blinked at Jon. Jon took the notebook from him and set it aside. "A pleasure slave's job is to be enticing, but he or she is basically a sex toy. Something to make the act better. You can't be embarrassed if you perform badly with a toy, because the toy doesn't know."
"Yeah, well, you're not a fucking toy," Ryan muttered angrily.
"And you'd never had someone so much as kiss your cock, so how the fuck were you supposed to hold out?" Jon grinned. "I wanted that. And I got it. You gave it to me."
Ryan thought about that for a minute and then grinned. Jon turned into him just enough to suck at his lower lip, kiss him a little. When he'd been given his lip back, Ryan said, "I wanna learn."
Jon swallowed. "Right now?"
Ryan leaned back enough to give Jon his most evil look. "Turnabout's fair play."
"Nothing about you is fair, trust me on that, Ryan Ross."
Ryan opened his mouth to answer but Jon just kissed him again. He said, "Here," and pulled Ryan down, gently to the floor. "Grab one of the pillows from--"
Ryan reached out to get a pillow from the music corner and fitted it under his knees. Then he looked at Jon impatiently. Jon laughed and reached down to catch one of Ryan's hands to give it a quick squeeze. "Sometimes," he said, "It's the buildup, that's the real key. Getting someone in the mood."
Ryan felt a little unsure at these words, since just looking at Jon was enough to have him in the mood. But he could work hard, that wasn't a problem. Jon said, "You've kinda got me there just by wanting to do this, but I promised lessons, so."
Ryan grinned up at him, bright and happy, and Jon caressed his thumb over Ryan's cheekbone. "Ryan." He took a deep breath. "So undressing the person can be important, but maybe we'll just, um, get to the exciting stuff?"
Ryan nodded agreeably, and Jon all but tore his pants getting them to a point where his cock was out, clearly ready. Jon said, "Okay, no being overeager. It took me a long time and some, um, well, deep-throating was a later lesson, okay? Let's just start with the head being the most sensitive part. So that's where you want to concentrate a lot of your attention, be it tongue or throat."
Ryan leaned in and touched his tongue to the head, his mind buzzing happily when Jon's breath got just a tiny bit more reedy than it had been. Never one for half measures, Ryan took it all in his mouth and Jon said, "Yeah, yeah, like that," only his voice was much higher than the moment before. Ryan looked up at him, keeping Jon in his mouth, and Jon panted, "Uh, masters don't usually--"
Oh, Ryan thought. Then, their loss. He wanted to take more of Jon in, make him Ryan's, and not in a way dictated by money, but because Ryan had done what was necessary, what Jon wanted. Still, he took to heart Jon's warning and moved slowly, making sure he could still breathe through his nose after each extra swallow.
Jon said, "Oh, fuck, that's-- Yeah, just, breathe, breathe--oh!"
Ryan reached the point where he just couldn't take anymore, the back of his throat already wanting to rebel a little, and held steady at that spot. Jon said, "Ryan, um, can you? Your hand around my--yes, like, yes."
Ryan caught on half-way through the explanation and wrapped his hand over the part of Jon's cock he couldn't swallow, squeezing at least as tightly as he was managing with his mouth, maybe a bit moreso. Jon whimpered. Ryan made a pleased noise and Jon said, "Fuck, Ryan, pull off."
Ryan was so used to paying attention to Jon that he did as told immediately, Jon pushing him back further so that when Jon came, it fell on Ryan's knees, but didn't hit his face. Ryan frowned. "I would have swallowed."
Jon made an incoherent noise and flapped his hand a little. Ryan shoved at his knee. "You got to swallow."
"Later lesson," Jon said, clearly not taking the gravity of Ryan's need to heart. In fact, Jon really seemed quite content to sit there boneless and with his eyes closed, mostly ignoring Ryan. Except for asking, "Wanna cuddle?"
Ryan considered holding onto his righteous indignation, but Jon was really super hot when sexually satisfied and also, cuddling sometimes meant kissing now, and maybe he could make kissing mean something else and Ryan wasn't stupid. Well, not in this instance, anyway. "In bed. My floor is hard."
"Spoiled," Jon said, but it sounded like something that made him happy.
***
Spencer called and said, "Seriously, stop fucking each other long enough to come over and keep Brendon company. He's been trying to teach me to play the kazoo."
"Can kazoos actually be played?" Jon asked, sounding entirely philosophical. "I mean, it's really more of just a--"
"Get. Over. Here. Now."
Ryan said, "Fine, but if your mom discovers something she's not used to seeing in the bathroom and thinks you and Brendon have finally recognized your nigh unbearable lust for each other, you've nobody to blame but yourself."
Spencer said, quite sincerely, "I hate you."
***
Ryan brought his notebook and showed it to Spencer in the greatest of confidence while Brendon and Jon were writing songs to get laid to. Ryan knew because Brendon had greeted them with "Jon! Let's make some musical accompaniment for your epic sexual adventures with Ryan Ross!"
Ryan would have his revenge, but later. Right now, this was more important.
Spencer looked for long moments before saying, "Well. This is different."
"It's possible sex turns me into an idiot," Ryan said. It was a valid fear in his head. Not one that was going to stop him from having sex, mind you, but something to be aware of all the same.
"Well, time will tell, but mostly I just think Jon makes you less whiny."
Ryan held out his hand and Spencer passed the notebook back. Ryan scrolled through his words. "Is that what it is?"
Spencer came to Ryan's side so that they could both look. "It's just," Spencer pointed to a couple of places on the page, "this stuff? It makes you sound ready to deal with the world as it is. Not the way you want it to be."
"So having sex turns me into a liar."
Spencer laughed. "You were always brave. You just never wanted to see that. Because if you did, you'd have to acknowledge that you were waiting for a reason, that there were a lot of things you couldn't control, that...I don't know. Lots of things. But, I mean, none of us really has that sort of control. Not even adults, I don't think. I mean, you'd be pretty different if your dad could have made you what he wanted, right?"
Ryan had never really thought of it in those terms, but, "Guess it's kind of lucky we can't all have what we want, huh?"
Spencer nudged his hip into Ryan's. "I'm glad."
Ryan reached down and tucked his hand in Spencer's. "I'm learning."
Spencer squeezed.
***
"Want you to see something," Jon said, one day when they'd come back from Spencer and Brendon's.
Ryan said, "'Kay."
Jon stripped right there and made his way up to the bed. Ryan figured that he really should have been used to the sight of a naked Jon by now, what with dinners and all the sex, but he really wasn't, and it was automatic pilot to follow him up. Ryan was completely Pavlovian. He would have been ashamed, except that sex felt really good. Really good.
Jon was grabbing the lube they'd been using when jerking each other off. He was on his knees, his legs spread and as soon as Ryan was in the right place to see, Jon poured lube on his fingers and--
"Holy shit," Ryan said, watching Jon fuck himself with his own fingers.
Jon said, "Be good, and maybe I'll let you do this next time."
Ryan made a sound in the back of his throat and came closer. Jon said, "You being naked would be good for this."
Ryan didn't hesitate. He did fall over several times, but they were on the bed, and Jon already knew that coordination wasn't Ryan's strong suit. Jon laughed at him anyway, but it wasn't a mean laugh, and Ryan was enjoying the way his breath caught when he went deep with his fingers. It was pretty much the hottest thing Ryan had ever seen.
Jon said, "Lay down. On your back."
Ryan did as told, practically falling that way in his eagerness. Jon tossed him the lube. "Get some on your cock. A lot."
Ryan fumbled and tried to just pour it straight on, but Jon said, "No, no, hand. I want to watch, Ry. You're getting to watch me."
And okay, that was fair. Excruciating, but fair. Ryan made himself slow down, slick his cock up until he could hardly bear it, when he begged, "Jon, please," and Jon said, "Yeah. Yeah."
Jon straightened and made his way to Ryan, straddling him, hands on his chest. He said, "Breathe."
Ryan took a breath and Jon lowered himself onto Ryan, just his head, that was all. Ryan forgot how to exhale. Jon said, "Ryan," and pressed on his chest a bit more. Ryan breathed out. "Holy--"
"Mm," Jon said, sinking further, further until he was on Ryan wholly, then he rolled his hips and gasped and Ryan said, "Can't see, blind."
Jon laughed, but it was high-pitched, pleasured, and he moved again. "Open your eyes."
"Oh," Ryan said, and did, watching as Jon writhed atop him, stomach undulating, the weight he had finally gained making him solid, but not precisely soft, and Ryan could see everything.
Ryan wrapped the hand that was still wet around Jon's cock and said, "Can I--"
"Yes, yes," Jon said, wrapping his hand around Ryan's so that he had some control over the rhythm, and Ryan let him have as much as he wanted, didn't care so long as Jon didn't stop, so long as this feeling lasted forever.
That said, Ryan was definitely the first to shout, to say, "Oh, I'm--" and tighten and come harder than he had ever imagined possible. Jon, he thought, kept moving their hands, and at some point he must have come too, because eventually Ryan said, "Mmmbrrllgh," and Jon said, "Yes."
Ryan tried again. "Wanted--wanted me to see something?"
Jon rolled off of him, next to him and said, "How good it can be. That I'm going to make it better for you."
"Just want-- I just want to try it with you. It doesn't have to be--"
Jon kissed him, snuggling in closer. They were wet and it was going to get sticky quickly, and Ryan couldn't be fucked to care just yet. Jon said, "I'm starting to get that. Only, I want it to be. Maybe I learned all this shit for a reason."
Ryan growled. "Should've learned with me."
After a long silence, Jon admitted, "That...yeah. But, I just. I want something to tell myself."
Ryan nodded fiercely and kissed Jon. "Okay. Okay. Just...It was bad that they hurt you. Full stop."
"Yeah," Jon agreed.
Ryan wrapped his arms tighter around Jon. "Nap?"
"Nap," Jon agreed.
***
Two days after Jon woke Ryan up by way of rimming him good and proper before holding him tight and fucking him slowly, slowly, until Ryan begged for Jon to touch him, to help him out, Ryan said, "Here. I think-- I think you'll be able to read it. But you can ask, if you can't."
Jon took the notebook from him, their fingers brushing. "Your writing is kinda secret, huh?"
"'Cept for the people I choose," Ryan said.
"Has Brendon ever--"
"Once."
"And Spence?"
"A few times."
"You wanna be here while I read?"
Ryan shook his head. Jon kissed him, long and slow and sweet and said, "See you in a bit."
Ryan said, "I'll, ah, be here. Waiting."
Jon smiled, just a little bit, more in his eyes than his lips. "I'll bring your words right back to you."
Part Two
Ryan woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, hearing the strains of a song he was wholly unfamiliar with. He rubbed at his temples a bit, allowing himself to keep his eyes closed a bit longer. Then he got up and made his way down the stairs. He said, "I'm going to make some coffee, do you want--"
Jon took his hand off the neck of his guitar and held a steaming mug out to Ryan.
"Prescient of you," Ryan said, taking it gratefully.
"You mumble nonsensically when you're close to waking up," Jon said.
"Oh. Well, thanks."
"Yeah, it's my way of saying 'sorry I tried to kill you.'"
Ryan ignored this fit of pique. "What was that song? I've never heard it."
Jon shrugged. "Nothing. I was just fooling around."
It took Ryan a second, but then he said, "Wait. You mean you were writing that?"
"Not formally, or--"
Ryan didn't have time for Jon's self-deprecation this morning. "Will you play it again? Can you? Do you remember?"
"It's not really--"
"I know, I know, I get that, but I'll let you see my writing, like a trade. It's not really, um, anything, either."
Jon thought about the offer. "Will the words be too big for me to read?"
"You can ask, if you need."
Ryan was honestly about thirty seconds from pleading when Jon said, "Okay," and started strumming again.
***
Ryan finished his eleventh year of basic schooling four months early and didn't even pause. He knew Spencer was on track, which meant a year behind him, even if Ryan had been going at a normal pace. Ryan wasn't entirely sure how he was going to handle that situation. He thought he might see if any of the local schools, the ones close enough for spot-to-spot transport, would take him for a year, and then he could transfer somewhere farther, maybe even out of reach.
Colleges had living grounds. Ryan wasn't sure how safe Jon would be anywhere on Earth, but that had to be safer than here, with his dad. The spot-to-spot would make it easy for Ryan to see Spencer, and Jon to see Brendon.
Ryan could have the latter thought without wincing, now. Or, well, he mostly could.
***
It was weird to Ryan that he'd gotten so used to Jon's head on his knee, his shoulder against his thigh, that he could tell something was off when it was. He couldn't tell what was off, but there was definitely something. It was a fairly normal dinner. Ryan's father was telling Ryan about a colleague who might be able to make an in for Ryan with the Finance Exchange, and Ryan really should meet with him and, whatever, Ryan wasn't actually listening. Jon didn't seem stressed out or actively upset, there was just something not quite right about the way he was holding his body against Ryan's.
As such, Ryan demured more than usual to his father's opinions, made sure not to start fights, and excused himself as soon as could be possibly deemed reasonable. He tried to walk normally until he knew his father couldn't see and then he hauled ass back to his room, where he shut the door and said, "What? What is it?"
Jon had crawled, as he generally did when Ryan's father could see. He was still on his hands and his knees, more hunched over than normal and Ryan got down just in time for Jon to start coughing and sneezing almost simultaneously, his body racked with it. Ryan couldn't help it, he sighed with relief. "Oh."
Jon finished up with the worst of the coughing and sniffled pitifully, lying down where he was. Ryan rolled his eyes. "Not hardly," and herded Jon up, up the stairs, wrapping him in blankets. "Stay," he said.
Jon just coughed in response. Ryan said, "Right, okay."
He went to the bathroom and found the cold solvent he kept around in case he started feeling a little ill. He risked a trip to the kitchen for some peppermint tea, and then came back to the room. He made Jon put the solvent under his tongue and said, "It'll get warm, but just keep it down there." The warmth would dissolve the medication, which would coat his throat and his lungs, steaming up through his nasal passages to allow for breathing. Ryan made him drink the entire cup of tea and then said, "Sleep."
Jon fidgeted for a bit and Ryan was about to ask what was wrong when Jon managed to get his hand out from beneath the blankets and clutch it in Ryan's. Ryan said, "Okay. Okay. I'm here. You can sleep."
Jon settled then, and did as told. Ryan pried himself loose, put the cup away, changed into his pajamas and brought a hand towel to wipe some of the worst of the fever from Jon. When that was done, he brought an extra blanket into the bed and curled up near to Jon, where he could be found easily if he was needed.
***
It took about three days for Jon to get fully better. Dinner was hell for two of them--Ryan's father ate out one of the nights, and Ryan had never been so glad in his entire life. Brendon and Spencer came over, mostly just to keep Ryan company, since Jon couldn't stay awake for longer than it took to eat a bowl of soup. Brendon got him in the shower, as Ryan adamantly refused to get Jon naked without Jon's permission or help.
Jon came back from the shower in sweats and looking slightly more human. Brendon came back slightly waterlogged. Spencer laughed at Brendon while Ryan put Jon back to bed.
Ryan kept himself on enough vitamin C to effectively kill his liver and echinacea tea. It seemed to work, since by the time Jon was able to sit up for longer than half an hour, Ryan still wasn't feeling badly, and he hadn't much moved from their room since it had started.
Brendon managed to get sick and the Smiths made him stay home, but by that time Jon was feeling well enough to go visit, so they made orange juice--well, they cut oranges and stuck them in the juicer--and went to go make him feel better.
When Brendon was acting more like himself--it took him longer than Jon, but he'd been less willing to just sleep it off--Ryan asked Jon, "You want me to, y'know, spend the night at Spencer's?"
Jon looked perplexed. "Um. I guess if you want to?"
Ryan really didn't want to have to be the one to say, "So that you and Brendon--" but there was nobody else to say it, so.
"Oh," Jon said, looking like that cleared things up. "We're not, uh. We haven't been for a while."
Ryan wasn't entirely sure how he'd missed that, except that he'd been trying really hard not to pay attention, so there was that. "Sorry?"
"Really?" Jon asked softly.
"I don't want you hurt," Ryan told him honestly. "I don't want Brendon hurt." It wasn't an answer, Ryan knew.
Jon played with the hair over his ear. "Do you really think that love and sex are the same thing?"
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid because I'm sheltered," Ryan said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Jon sighed and touched his fingers to Ryan's arms. "I didn't-- Not like that. I just, Brendon was... I needed to have fun, right? To know that I could. And he would get that, even if he wasn't really like me, not in the end. But it was easy for me to do things with him and know that there wouldn't be consequences. Do you-- Do you understand at all?"
Ryan opened his mouth and finally said, "I'm trying."
Jon smiled. "Okay."
Ryan laughed, but then asked, "And it worked? It helped?"
"Brendon's sweet," Jon said, which wasn't an answer, but Ryan accepted it.
Ryan asked, "Wanna spend the night at Spence's anyway?"
"His mom makes really good cookies," Jon said.
"She does," Ryan agreed gravely. "She does."
***
Jon kissed Ryan for the first time on a day in early spring. It was hot outside--the temperature modulators getting a bit ahead of themselves--but not quite hot enough to discourage them from lounging on the roof, chests bared to the sun. Ryan was supposed to be doing coursework, but it wasn't as though he wasn't ahead, so mostly he was just lazing about, doing his cat impression. He heard Jon's low chuckle just before there were lips on his, and Ryan didn't have a lot of experience, or anything, but he knew what that signified. His eyes flew open and Jon pulled back a little, looking at him. "Okay?"
There had been two things Ryan had ever wanted in his life enough to give up anything for them: 1) Spencer's friendship and 2) to get off this planet, away from his father.
Having Jon lean back in and pick up where he had left off was the third. Ryan swallowed and asked, "Is this just gratitude?"
"I--" Jon faltered. "Hard to say. I'd be lying if I just said no."
Ryan bit the inside of his cheek until he was sure he could say what he needed to say without his voice breaking and said, "Then, no, not okay," and went back to pretending to relax.
***
"Brendon tells me you're cutting off your nose to spite your face."
"Really? Brendon said that?" Ryan asked drily.
"Actually, those were his exact words," Spencer said. "Sometimes he can be as dramatic as you."
"Quick learner."
Spencer's mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. "Ry."
Ryan shook his head. "He's wrong, Spence. He's wrong about this."
"Jon told him he kissed you."
"That part happened," Ryan acknowledged.
"And you turned him down."
"I asked him if it was gratitude, and he said it might be. I don't-- That's almost as bad as him doing it because I told him to. Don't act like you don't understand."
Spencer opened his mouth and just stood there for a while. Ryan was about to tell him he'd catch flies when Spencer said, "No, I get it. It's...yeah, I get it." He pulled Ryan to him, and Ryan didn't resist.
***
"You're not being fair," Jon said, once they got to Ryan's room. He was still naked, having just gotten back from dinner. Ryan desperately wanted him to put on some clothes. Instead he just looked to the side.
"Because I won't let you kiss me?" Ryan hazarded.
"Because you think it's so fucking simple," Jon said. "You think that because I might want you because you're nice to me, because you don't beat me or threaten me or starve me, that that means I can't have any other reason, or that those reasons have to be more important, and that's an asshole assumption to make about me or the situation or whatever."
"And maybe it's kind of assholish of you to think that I should take what you can give because that's what you have," Ryan snarled. "Like I can't find someone who likes me for me."
Jon's fists curled and then, abruptly, fell loose. "Wait. What?"
"I don't want you just because my dad had the money to buy you and I'm not a complete masochist. That's not good enough for me. It's not good enough for you, either, but I'm not in charge of straightening your brain out."
"Ryan, I meant that I couldn't say gratitude wasn't part of it. I didn't mean-- Oh. Huh."
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and took a step away from Jon, still not looking in his direction.
Jon said, "Ryan, gratitude has to be part of it. It's not fair of you to act like it can't be."
Ryan's gaze flickered to Jon's face. He could hear the, "But?"
"But mostly it's that... I mean, Brendon was fun. Which was new, and I liked that. It was better, way better than before. But I didn't, it wasn't... I think about you. Like that. Like, hot under the skin, heart beating. Like I want to know all the things I know if they make you say my name the way I want to hear it."
Jon's cheeks were red, but his eyes didn't leave Ryan's. Ryan said, "Oh."
"Do you-- If you want that, even just a little, then don't say no, okay? Just give it a chance. We can stop, if it's no good, or if one of us doesn't like it."
"It's not that easy," Ryan said, softly.
"No, but it's not-- You gave me the right to say no. Now we both have it. So it's not impossible."
"Afterward, though," Ryan said.
"We'll figure it out."
"Are you always this blase about consequences?"
Jon shifted on his feet, placing one foot atop the other. "Only when I trust the person likely to dole them out."
Ryan's breath caught. "Okay. We can try."
Jon's smile was shy and sweet and nothing like triumphant, but Ryan was starting to understand the subtext.
***
Jon was a very good kisser. Ryan didn't really have a lot to compare him to--a couple of makeout sessions with different kids that he'd met at one of the socialite networking societies his father had insisted he join--but all the same, he didn't think it was really a relative thing. If a person was good, well, it was pretty obvious. Jon could have him hard within seconds, and okay, admittedly, just thinking about kissing Jon did a lot of the work, but Jon was no slouch about making up the rest.
The first time, after they'd both gotten their hands on each other's cocks, discovered what there was to know--at least so far as that went--Ryan had laid back, feeling replete and unwound and said, "So, that's kind of all I have practice at."
Jon had rolled over onto him, grinning. "Not so much practice at that, either, huh?"
Ryan had smacked him and said, "Mean."
Jon laughed. "Yeah, I kind of am." He paused. "I'd forgotten. Or, hm. Maybe I never knew?"
Ryan cupped a hand behind Jon's neck and whispered, "I like it."
Jon laid down, his head coming to rest on Ryan's chest. "I don't know if I do."
"You'll figure it out," Ryan said, confident, for once, that he was right.
Jon said, "Yeah, well, you'll figure out the sex."
Ryan suspected he was going to need more help with that, than Jon with his inner-explorations. "Gonna teach me?"
Jon brought his head up, his chin digging a little into Ryan's torso. "Would you like that?"
Ryan thought of Jon's voice, how he hadn't recognized it as sexy at first, hadn't known that his body's reaction was more important than his mind's. The thought of Jon telling him what to do, showing him, nearly made Ryan hard again. As it was, Jon laughed and said, "I feel the answer to that one is 'yes'."
Ryan blushed and pretended to have too much dignity to answer. Jon said softly, "I think I like that."
Ryan smiled. "You'll figure it out."
***
Ryan had kind of expected Jon to go slowly, for both their sakes, but the first thing he did was to take Ryan unawares while he was studying the next day, pulling Ryan down in his seat just enough that he could open Ryan's pants and swallow him down. Literally, Jon took all of him in, throat closing tight around the head of Ryan's cock and Ryan screamed and came, just from that.
Jon swallowed and pulled back, looking up at Ryan with the most smug expression Ryan had ever seen on anyone's face, ever. Ryan said, "Glad someone's feeling proud," and pretended like his heart wasn't beating way too hard to go back to studying.
Jon, though, just sat down by him and said, "You make me feel hot."
Ryan blinked at Jon. Jon took the notebook from him and set it aside. "A pleasure slave's job is to be enticing, but he or she is basically a sex toy. Something to make the act better. You can't be embarrassed if you perform badly with a toy, because the toy doesn't know."
"Yeah, well, you're not a fucking toy," Ryan muttered angrily.
"And you'd never had someone so much as kiss your cock, so how the fuck were you supposed to hold out?" Jon grinned. "I wanted that. And I got it. You gave it to me."
Ryan thought about that for a minute and then grinned. Jon turned into him just enough to suck at his lower lip, kiss him a little. When he'd been given his lip back, Ryan said, "I wanna learn."
Jon swallowed. "Right now?"
Ryan leaned back enough to give Jon his most evil look. "Turnabout's fair play."
"Nothing about you is fair, trust me on that, Ryan Ross."
Ryan opened his mouth to answer but Jon just kissed him again. He said, "Here," and pulled Ryan down, gently to the floor. "Grab one of the pillows from--"
Ryan reached out to get a pillow from the music corner and fitted it under his knees. Then he looked at Jon impatiently. Jon laughed and reached down to catch one of Ryan's hands to give it a quick squeeze. "Sometimes," he said, "It's the buildup, that's the real key. Getting someone in the mood."
Ryan felt a little unsure at these words, since just looking at Jon was enough to have him in the mood. But he could work hard, that wasn't a problem. Jon said, "You've kinda got me there just by wanting to do this, but I promised lessons, so."
Ryan grinned up at him, bright and happy, and Jon caressed his thumb over Ryan's cheekbone. "Ryan." He took a deep breath. "So undressing the person can be important, but maybe we'll just, um, get to the exciting stuff?"
Ryan nodded agreeably, and Jon all but tore his pants getting them to a point where his cock was out, clearly ready. Jon said, "Okay, no being overeager. It took me a long time and some, um, well, deep-throating was a later lesson, okay? Let's just start with the head being the most sensitive part. So that's where you want to concentrate a lot of your attention, be it tongue or throat."
Ryan leaned in and touched his tongue to the head, his mind buzzing happily when Jon's breath got just a tiny bit more reedy than it had been. Never one for half measures, Ryan took it all in his mouth and Jon said, "Yeah, yeah, like that," only his voice was much higher than the moment before. Ryan looked up at him, keeping Jon in his mouth, and Jon panted, "Uh, masters don't usually--"
Oh, Ryan thought. Then, their loss. He wanted to take more of Jon in, make him Ryan's, and not in a way dictated by money, but because Ryan had done what was necessary, what Jon wanted. Still, he took to heart Jon's warning and moved slowly, making sure he could still breathe through his nose after each extra swallow.
Jon said, "Oh, fuck, that's-- Yeah, just, breathe, breathe--oh!"
Ryan reached the point where he just couldn't take anymore, the back of his throat already wanting to rebel a little, and held steady at that spot. Jon said, "Ryan, um, can you? Your hand around my--yes, like, yes."
Ryan caught on half-way through the explanation and wrapped his hand over the part of Jon's cock he couldn't swallow, squeezing at least as tightly as he was managing with his mouth, maybe a bit moreso. Jon whimpered. Ryan made a pleased noise and Jon said, "Fuck, Ryan, pull off."
Ryan was so used to paying attention to Jon that he did as told immediately, Jon pushing him back further so that when Jon came, it fell on Ryan's knees, but didn't hit his face. Ryan frowned. "I would have swallowed."
Jon made an incoherent noise and flapped his hand a little. Ryan shoved at his knee. "You got to swallow."
"Later lesson," Jon said, clearly not taking the gravity of Ryan's need to heart. In fact, Jon really seemed quite content to sit there boneless and with his eyes closed, mostly ignoring Ryan. Except for asking, "Wanna cuddle?"
Ryan considered holding onto his righteous indignation, but Jon was really super hot when sexually satisfied and also, cuddling sometimes meant kissing now, and maybe he could make kissing mean something else and Ryan wasn't stupid. Well, not in this instance, anyway. "In bed. My floor is hard."
"Spoiled," Jon said, but it sounded like something that made him happy.
***
Spencer called and said, "Seriously, stop fucking each other long enough to come over and keep Brendon company. He's been trying to teach me to play the kazoo."
"Can kazoos actually be played?" Jon asked, sounding entirely philosophical. "I mean, it's really more of just a--"
"Get. Over. Here. Now."
Ryan said, "Fine, but if your mom discovers something she's not used to seeing in the bathroom and thinks you and Brendon have finally recognized your nigh unbearable lust for each other, you've nobody to blame but yourself."
Spencer said, quite sincerely, "I hate you."
***
Ryan brought his notebook and showed it to Spencer in the greatest of confidence while Brendon and Jon were writing songs to get laid to. Ryan knew because Brendon had greeted them with "Jon! Let's make some musical accompaniment for your epic sexual adventures with Ryan Ross!"
Ryan would have his revenge, but later. Right now, this was more important.
Spencer looked for long moments before saying, "Well. This is different."
"It's possible sex turns me into an idiot," Ryan said. It was a valid fear in his head. Not one that was going to stop him from having sex, mind you, but something to be aware of all the same.
"Well, time will tell, but mostly I just think Jon makes you less whiny."
Ryan held out his hand and Spencer passed the notebook back. Ryan scrolled through his words. "Is that what it is?"
Spencer came to Ryan's side so that they could both look. "It's just," Spencer pointed to a couple of places on the page, "this stuff? It makes you sound ready to deal with the world as it is. Not the way you want it to be."
"So having sex turns me into a liar."
Spencer laughed. "You were always brave. You just never wanted to see that. Because if you did, you'd have to acknowledge that you were waiting for a reason, that there were a lot of things you couldn't control, that...I don't know. Lots of things. But, I mean, none of us really has that sort of control. Not even adults, I don't think. I mean, you'd be pretty different if your dad could have made you what he wanted, right?"
Ryan had never really thought of it in those terms, but, "Guess it's kind of lucky we can't all have what we want, huh?"
Spencer nudged his hip into Ryan's. "I'm glad."
Ryan reached down and tucked his hand in Spencer's. "I'm learning."
Spencer squeezed.
***
"Want you to see something," Jon said, one day when they'd come back from Spencer and Brendon's.
Ryan said, "'Kay."
Jon stripped right there and made his way up to the bed. Ryan figured that he really should have been used to the sight of a naked Jon by now, what with dinners and all the sex, but he really wasn't, and it was automatic pilot to follow him up. Ryan was completely Pavlovian. He would have been ashamed, except that sex felt really good. Really good.
Jon was grabbing the lube they'd been using when jerking each other off. He was on his knees, his legs spread and as soon as Ryan was in the right place to see, Jon poured lube on his fingers and--
"Holy shit," Ryan said, watching Jon fuck himself with his own fingers.
Jon said, "Be good, and maybe I'll let you do this next time."
Ryan made a sound in the back of his throat and came closer. Jon said, "You being naked would be good for this."
Ryan didn't hesitate. He did fall over several times, but they were on the bed, and Jon already knew that coordination wasn't Ryan's strong suit. Jon laughed at him anyway, but it wasn't a mean laugh, and Ryan was enjoying the way his breath caught when he went deep with his fingers. It was pretty much the hottest thing Ryan had ever seen.
Jon said, "Lay down. On your back."
Ryan did as told, practically falling that way in his eagerness. Jon tossed him the lube. "Get some on your cock. A lot."
Ryan fumbled and tried to just pour it straight on, but Jon said, "No, no, hand. I want to watch, Ry. You're getting to watch me."
And okay, that was fair. Excruciating, but fair. Ryan made himself slow down, slick his cock up until he could hardly bear it, when he begged, "Jon, please," and Jon said, "Yeah. Yeah."
Jon straightened and made his way to Ryan, straddling him, hands on his chest. He said, "Breathe."
Ryan took a breath and Jon lowered himself onto Ryan, just his head, that was all. Ryan forgot how to exhale. Jon said, "Ryan," and pressed on his chest a bit more. Ryan breathed out. "Holy--"
"Mm," Jon said, sinking further, further until he was on Ryan wholly, then he rolled his hips and gasped and Ryan said, "Can't see, blind."
Jon laughed, but it was high-pitched, pleasured, and he moved again. "Open your eyes."
"Oh," Ryan said, and did, watching as Jon writhed atop him, stomach undulating, the weight he had finally gained making him solid, but not precisely soft, and Ryan could see everything.
Ryan wrapped the hand that was still wet around Jon's cock and said, "Can I--"
"Yes, yes," Jon said, wrapping his hand around Ryan's so that he had some control over the rhythm, and Ryan let him have as much as he wanted, didn't care so long as Jon didn't stop, so long as this feeling lasted forever.
That said, Ryan was definitely the first to shout, to say, "Oh, I'm--" and tighten and come harder than he had ever imagined possible. Jon, he thought, kept moving their hands, and at some point he must have come too, because eventually Ryan said, "Mmmbrrllgh," and Jon said, "Yes."
Ryan tried again. "Wanted--wanted me to see something?"
Jon rolled off of him, next to him and said, "How good it can be. That I'm going to make it better for you."
"Just want-- I just want to try it with you. It doesn't have to be--"
Jon kissed him, snuggling in closer. They were wet and it was going to get sticky quickly, and Ryan couldn't be fucked to care just yet. Jon said, "I'm starting to get that. Only, I want it to be. Maybe I learned all this shit for a reason."
Ryan growled. "Should've learned with me."
After a long silence, Jon admitted, "That...yeah. But, I just. I want something to tell myself."
Ryan nodded fiercely and kissed Jon. "Okay. Okay. Just...It was bad that they hurt you. Full stop."
"Yeah," Jon agreed.
Ryan wrapped his arms tighter around Jon. "Nap?"
"Nap," Jon agreed.
***
Two days after Jon woke Ryan up by way of rimming him good and proper before holding him tight and fucking him slowly, slowly, until Ryan begged for Jon to touch him, to help him out, Ryan said, "Here. I think-- I think you'll be able to read it. But you can ask, if you can't."
Jon took the notebook from him, their fingers brushing. "Your writing is kinda secret, huh?"
"'Cept for the people I choose," Ryan said.
"Has Brendon ever--"
"Once."
"And Spence?"
"A few times."
"You wanna be here while I read?"
Ryan shook his head. Jon kissed him, long and slow and sweet and said, "See you in a bit."
Ryan said, "I'll, ah, be here. Waiting."
Jon smiled, just a little bit, more in his eyes than his lips. "I'll bring your words right back to you."