FIC: Better Than Chocolate (Ryan/Simon, PG13)
Author: Clio
Title: Better Than Chocolate
Pairing: Simon Cowell/Ryan Seacrest
Rating: PG13, for sexual suggestions.
Summary: It's the Saturday after the Finale and for the first time Simon isn't going anyplace.
Length: 800 words
Disclaimer: I made it all up. People sort of own themselves, don't they?
Notes: A fluffy-like-an-angora-rabbit epilogue to Tipping the Velvet and Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, dedicated to ladyjaida for her betas and general cheerleading of all my Rymon-ing. Thanks to evil_erato for giving it the once-over.
Good bye to another great season of Rymon, er, I mean, American Idol! Thanks to everyone for reading the stories, voting in the polls, and just generally participating!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ryan shifted in bed, pulling the comforter over his shoulders and sniffing. Cold meant Simon-the-furry-furnace was out of bed; the aroma meant he'd brewed coffee and was up for the day. Ryan opened one eye; if the sun wasn’t shining, he wasn’t getting out of bed, Simon or no Simon. He'd taken a rare day off, damn it, so no getting up before dawn.
Through the French doors that led to the balcony, Ryan saw the sun shining down on a pair of tanned, muscular legs sitting atop the chaise. He rolled out of bed, smiling to himself as he walked into the bathroom to get some coffee. Simon had insisted on installing a little coffee maker on the counter in the bathroom because he didn’t want to have to put on a robe and wander all the way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee at 3am. (He had a point, but Ryan thought it made the place look like a Motel 6, so he made sure the decorator included a nicer place for it in the design for the new house.)
Teeth clean, bladder empty, mug in hand (skim milk, two Splenda), he wandered out to the balcony where Simon lay on the chaise, smoking and drinking out of his own mug (whole milk, no sugar). Ryan leaned against the doorframe. “Good morning.”
Simon looked up. “Ah, you’re up. What time is it?”
“Late. Six-thirty.” On a weekday, he would have been on air for an hour and a half already.
Simon beckoned, so Ryan set his coffee on the floor and lay his naked body atop Simon’s on the chaise. There had been a more delicate chaise on the balcony but they’d broken a leg on it, fucking. So a heavy iron one was installed in its place, with the softest all weather cushions available. Now sex on the chaise was a Saturday morning ritual.
Ryan gave Simon a good morning kiss, then rested his head on Simon’s chest. The little heater in the corner made it warm enough for the two of them to lay outside without any clothing even though there was still a chill in the air.
“We’re domesticated,” Simon said.
“What makes you say that?” Ryan asked.
“We used to have the most amazing sex after the Finale parties. And then you said that naughty thing on air.”
Ryan didn’t want to lift his head; he liked hearing the rumble of Simon’s voice through his chest. “What naughty thing?” he asked.
“Ryan, you rubbed your chest and said ‘more than a handful,’ which is something one says about a girl’s tits.”
Ryan chuckled. “I like your tits,” he said, rubbing the one his head wasn’t on. Simon growled in reply, which sounded even better through his chest, and Ryan could feel his cock start to show interest, so he rubbed Simon’s nipple with his thumb.
“As I was saying,” Simon continued, “I thought we would continue that fine tradition but you were exhausted and I wasn’t much better and I didn’t have the heart to keep you up.”
“Aww, that was sweet, thank you, darlin’,” Ryan said, kissing Simon’s chest.
“So this morning I was sitting out here waiting for you to wake up, and I realized that we had amazing sex after the Finale parties because we wouldn’t see each other for months. Now we see each other every day and fuck on a chaise lounge every Saturday morning. We’re domesticated.”
Ryan did lift up his head at this. “Are you scared?”
Simon, who had been looking out over the pool, turned to look at Ryan. “Yeah.” He took a last puff and put out his cigarette.
Ryan swallowed, trying to be calm so his voice wouldn’t shake. “Do you want to slow things down?”
“And lose my exclusive access to this?” he asked, grabbing Ryan’s ass with both hands. “Not on your life.”
“So if my ass gets fat you’re out the door?” Ryan asked, grinning.
“Ryan, if you ever allowed yourself to get fat, there would be more wrong than just a few too many chocolates.”
“You know me too well,” Ryan replied. He meant to give Simon just a quick kiss, but Simon had other ideas, so they lay there in the sun, making out until they were breathless. Ryan could feel Simon nearly hard under him.
“Ready?” Simon asked.
“Not yet,” Ryan replied, sliding back down to his resting place on Simon’s chest. “I want to bask for a little while.”
“Bask in the sunshine?” Simon asked.
Ryan smiled, draping his arm across Simon’s chest. “Bask in all of it.”
“Yeah,” Simon said, pulling Ryan a little closer. “All of it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Better Than Chocolate
Pairing: Simon Cowell/Ryan Seacrest
Rating: PG13, for sexual suggestions.
Summary: It's the Saturday after the Finale and for the first time Simon isn't going anyplace.
Length: 800 words
Disclaimer: I made it all up. People sort of own themselves, don't they?
Notes: A fluffy-like-an-angora-rabbit epilogue to Tipping the Velvet and Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, dedicated to ladyjaida for her betas and general cheerleading of all my Rymon-ing. Thanks to evil_erato for giving it the once-over.
Good bye to another great season of Rymon, er, I mean, American Idol! Thanks to everyone for reading the stories, voting in the polls, and just generally participating!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ryan shifted in bed, pulling the comforter over his shoulders and sniffing. Cold meant Simon-the-furry-furnace was out of bed; the aroma meant he'd brewed coffee and was up for the day. Ryan opened one eye; if the sun wasn’t shining, he wasn’t getting out of bed, Simon or no Simon. He'd taken a rare day off, damn it, so no getting up before dawn.
Through the French doors that led to the balcony, Ryan saw the sun shining down on a pair of tanned, muscular legs sitting atop the chaise. He rolled out of bed, smiling to himself as he walked into the bathroom to get some coffee. Simon had insisted on installing a little coffee maker on the counter in the bathroom because he didn’t want to have to put on a robe and wander all the way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee at 3am. (He had a point, but Ryan thought it made the place look like a Motel 6, so he made sure the decorator included a nicer place for it in the design for the new house.)
Teeth clean, bladder empty, mug in hand (skim milk, two Splenda), he wandered out to the balcony where Simon lay on the chaise, smoking and drinking out of his own mug (whole milk, no sugar). Ryan leaned against the doorframe. “Good morning.”
Simon looked up. “Ah, you’re up. What time is it?”
“Late. Six-thirty.” On a weekday, he would have been on air for an hour and a half already.
Simon beckoned, so Ryan set his coffee on the floor and lay his naked body atop Simon’s on the chaise. There had been a more delicate chaise on the balcony but they’d broken a leg on it, fucking. So a heavy iron one was installed in its place, with the softest all weather cushions available. Now sex on the chaise was a Saturday morning ritual.
Ryan gave Simon a good morning kiss, then rested his head on Simon’s chest. The little heater in the corner made it warm enough for the two of them to lay outside without any clothing even though there was still a chill in the air.
“We’re domesticated,” Simon said.
“What makes you say that?” Ryan asked.
“We used to have the most amazing sex after the Finale parties. And then you said that naughty thing on air.”
Ryan didn’t want to lift his head; he liked hearing the rumble of Simon’s voice through his chest. “What naughty thing?” he asked.
“Ryan, you rubbed your chest and said ‘more than a handful,’ which is something one says about a girl’s tits.”
Ryan chuckled. “I like your tits,” he said, rubbing the one his head wasn’t on. Simon growled in reply, which sounded even better through his chest, and Ryan could feel his cock start to show interest, so he rubbed Simon’s nipple with his thumb.
“As I was saying,” Simon continued, “I thought we would continue that fine tradition but you were exhausted and I wasn’t much better and I didn’t have the heart to keep you up.”
“Aww, that was sweet, thank you, darlin’,” Ryan said, kissing Simon’s chest.
“So this morning I was sitting out here waiting for you to wake up, and I realized that we had amazing sex after the Finale parties because we wouldn’t see each other for months. Now we see each other every day and fuck on a chaise lounge every Saturday morning. We’re domesticated.”
Ryan did lift up his head at this. “Are you scared?”
Simon, who had been looking out over the pool, turned to look at Ryan. “Yeah.” He took a last puff and put out his cigarette.
Ryan swallowed, trying to be calm so his voice wouldn’t shake. “Do you want to slow things down?”
“And lose my exclusive access to this?” he asked, grabbing Ryan’s ass with both hands. “Not on your life.”
“So if my ass gets fat you’re out the door?” Ryan asked, grinning.
“Ryan, if you ever allowed yourself to get fat, there would be more wrong than just a few too many chocolates.”
“You know me too well,” Ryan replied. He meant to give Simon just a quick kiss, but Simon had other ideas, so they lay there in the sun, making out until they were breathless. Ryan could feel Simon nearly hard under him.
“Ready?” Simon asked.
“Not yet,” Ryan replied, sliding back down to his resting place on Simon’s chest. “I want to bask for a little while.”
“Bask in the sunshine?” Simon asked.
Ryan smiled, draping his arm across Simon’s chest. “Bask in all of it.”
“Yeah,” Simon said, pulling Ryan a little closer. “All of it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~