Possession 2/5
The first time Pete fucked Ryan, they were still living in the same house just outside of the city in one of Chicago’s many suburbs. Ryan wasn’t surprised to find himself in Pete’s bed, naked and on all fours. He’d been living with Pete for almost a month and Pete hadn’t asked anything of him at all. So when Pete pulled Ryan into his lap one night and slid a hand under Ryan’s shirt . . . Ryan didn’t say no.
It was nice. Ryan liked it because he was still hopelessly head over heels for Pete and having sex with him was exhilarating. Pete was good in bed, not that Ryan had many other guys to compare him to, and he was a somewhat selfless lover. Not completely, but he made sure Ryan enjoyed it at least as much as he did. After that it was a regular thing and they never really talked about it but it quickly became obvious that this wasn’t a relationship. They weren’t boyfriends or even lovers. Pete started repaying Ryan’s sexual favors in things like gifts and a bank account that he filled with money and, eventually, a furnished apartment in the city.
It was confusing at first, but Ryan figured out the rules easily enough. As long as he was always available when Pete wanted or needed him, he had a place to stay and an easy life. Ryan wasn’t a whore; he called himself that in front of Pete once and Pete screamed at him that he wasn’t, he wasn’t anything like that. There was a fine line there but Ryan just took him at his word and told himself whenever Pete was on his way over that he was just doing what he needed to.
Pete showed up right at noon. Ryan was dressed, eyes carefully lined with kohl, hair carefully styled even though it was kind of pointless. Pete didn’t say anything when he walked in, just let Ryan close the door and then led them both into Ryan’s bedroom. Ryan bit his lip, playing nervously with the cuffs of his sleeves, eyes trained on the tense lines of Pete’s back. If Pete was angry, though, he didn’t show it. He just sat down on Ryan’s bed looked up expectantly.
Ryan walked forward, stopping between Pete’s legs and leaning down to kiss him. Pete’s lips parted beneath his immediately and his tongue swept out and into Ryan’s mouth. If nothing else, Pete was a really good kisser. He was always thorough and careful, taking his time and leaving Ryan breathless and half-hard. When he pulled back he smiled at Ryan, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Hey,” he breathed.
Ryan brushed a chaste kiss over his lips and said, “hey, yourself.”
Pete smiled against Ryan’s jaw and licked a delicate line over the bone. His hands came up to grasp Ryan’s hips, always just a little rough but steady and grounding. Ryan arched into Pete’s body, tipping his head back so that Pete could press kisses to his throat.
“Did you have a good time last night?” Pete asked, lips forming the words against Ryan’s neck.
Ryan sucked in a breath, remembering Brendon’s lips doing the same thing the night before, and whispered out a yes.
“Yeah? Your friend didn’t give you a hard time?”
There was a note of genuine concern in Pete’s voice, followed immediately by something that sounded a little like possession. Ryan thought of Spencer, of the hug they’d shared, of the forgiveness that had been offered, and shook his head. Pete murmured something unintelligible, the words nothing more than a hum that Ryan could feel when he swallowed back feelings of guilt and helplessness. Pete nosed his way back up to Ryan’s mouth and kissed him, hard and deep and bruising.
“Want to fuck you,” he groaned out and Ryan nodded, reaching out to push Pete’s clothes away before working on his own.
They fell against each other on the bed, skin against skin, breath ghosting hot and damp over each other’s faces. Pete slid his hands down Ryan’s back to his ass and pulled his hips down in a slow grind, pressing their cocks together. The friction was more than enough to chase the breath from Ryan’s body and he bit at Pete’s bottom lip, sharp and needy. Pete grinned and flipped them over. His smile faded as he stared down at Ryan and Ryan looked back up at him, aroused and desperate for release of a kind that had little to do with orgasms.
Pete leaned down and mouthed at Ryan’s clavicle, nipping at the hard ridge of bone before laving the spot with his tongue. Ryan groaned and that was the unfortunate thing about this, how well Pete knew his body, how easily he could manipulate it after so long. Pete licked over Ryan’s nipple in a light flick and then paused, looking up at Ryan with dark eyes.
“I don’t have to worry about your Vegas friend stealing you away from me, do I? He doesn’t take care of you the way I do.”
The words were lost to a flash of blue eyes and a sweet smile in Ryan’s mind’s eye and when he threw his head back and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyelids, it had nothing to do with what Pete was doing with his mouth.
“Fuck,” Ryan groaned, trying to dislodge the image and failing completely. “Fuck.”
He could feel Pete’s smile against the soft skin low on his stomach and God, this was so ridiculously screwed up. Ryan opened his eyes and stared up at his ceiling, the same shade of off-white as ever, but he wasn’t really seeing it. He was in his bed and he knew that Pete was the one dragging a tongue over the head of his cock and it didn’t matter because all Ryan could see, all he could think about, was Spencer.
When Ryan curled his fingers in Pete’s hair and groaned he was thinking what’s wrong with me? There was no answer for him and eventually he gave up trying to figure it out, getting lost in a confusing vortex of sensation and fantasy. Pete pulled away when Ryan had been reduced to gasping and whimpering low in his throat, reaching for the lube and condoms on Ryan’s bedside table.
“Hey, no,” Pete said when Ryan tried to roll over, keeping him still with a palm to his hips. “I wanna do it like this. I wanna see you.”
Ryan looked away but forced himself to relax into the mattress. Pete’s fingers were quick and perfunctory while prepping him; Pete never had been one for extensive foreplay if he could help it and he definitely didn’t enjoy having his fingers up Ryan ass. He did what he had to, stretching Ryan swiftly before pulling away and thrusting forward and into him without much warning. Ryan gasped and undulated under the feeling of being so full it hurt in the best way possible and it was Pete, Pete who was fucking him the way he knew would get Ryan off, hard and fast, but Ryan was thinking about Spencer.
His mind chanted a rapid stop, stop, stop in time with Pete’s thrusts but it didn’t work. Ryan moaned helplessly, hitching his legs up around Pete’s hips and clutching at his shoulders. Pete grunted and snapped his hips forward a little rougher, pounding into Ryan like he always seemed to. Ryan wondered if Spencer would fuck him like this or if he’d be gentler, if maybe Spencer would want to be fucked instead. When Pete groaned out an order for Ryan to open his eyes, he did so and wondered what Spencer would look like braced atop him.
It wouldn’t be awkward, Ryan knew, because Spencer was at least as tall as he was instead of the few inches shorter that Pete was, and Spencer’s hair would be plastered to his forehead, the blue of his eyes swallowed up by the black of his pupils. Spencer would breathe Ryan’s name, would reach down to stroke Ryan off, would let Ryan lean up to kiss him . . .
Ryan slid one hand from Pete’s shoulders between their bodies to grip his own cock. He managed two clumsy jerks up and down before he was coming all over his fingers and stomach, body arching up into Pete’s. Pete fucked into him once, twice more and then stiffened, moaning as he came. Ryan shivered as he caught his breath and winced when Pete collapsed on top of him before rolling off.
“We’re pretty good together, right?” Pete said, and when Ryan looked over at the other man, there was no telling what to make of his expression.
“Yeah,” Ryan answered, wiping his hand off on his sheets and forcing a smile. “Sure.”
Pete nodded and then climbed off of the bed, muttering something about taking a shower before grabbing his clothes and walking out of the room. He didn’t say goodbye when he finally left. Ryan was too busy feeling miserable to care.
_._
Spencer called and Ryan didn’t answer. And then he felt guilty so he called Spencer back and got his voicemail. Ryan was tempted not to leave a message but before he could hang up he was being prompted by the beep and he rambled about nothing before asking Spencer to call him back whenever.
“I’ll pick up, I promise,” he said before hanging up, and then he got up and got dressed and left the apartment because if he didn’t he was just going to sit around waiting for the phone to ring.
Ryan’s feet carried him to Starbucks and he was so relieved to see Brendon’s smiling face through the glass door that his knees nearly buckled. He pushed the door open before he could talk himself out of it and waved when he caught Brendon’s eye. Brendon beamed at him and waited patiently for Ryan to get up to the counter before asking, “can I help you?”, his smile turning impish.
Ryan huffed out a dry laugh and shook his head. “I just came to say hi.”
Brendon slapped a hand over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes. “I feel so special!” he cooed, but there was a note of seriousness beneath his words that told Ryan he meant it.
Ryan quirked his lips at him and then looked up at the menu and raised his eyebrows. “I could use a caffeine fix, though. Surprise me.”
“You got it,” Brendon said, going right to work.
Ryan didn’t bother stepping to the side since it was slow and there was no one behind him in line. Instead he leaned against the counter and watched Brendon dart around, looking surprisingly comfortable with everything. Ryan had expected Brendon to be a little bit fumbling in a job like this, prone to accidents. Instead he was deft, his hands careful and quick. There were a couple of close calls that Ryan put down to Brendon’s enthusiasm, but no incidents to write home about. Brendon spun on his heel and set a cup of coffee in front of Ryan with a flourish.
“There you go!” he said, watching Ryan carefully as he took a sip.
The flavor was strong and heady and just what Ryan needed. “Wow,” was all he could say and Brendon grinned.
“Hey so, you okay?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.
Ryan turned, resting his hip against the counter, and shrugged. “Not really.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Brendon was staring at him, brown eyes wide and open and Ryan almost blurted it all out but the door to the shop swung open and a woman in a powersuit walked straight up to the counter and placed her order in a no-nonsense tone. She was followed quickly by a sizeable crowd of people and Ryan figured he should probably just leave and let Brendon do his work. He managed to get in a small wave before exiting the building.
He was half-way back to his apartment when his phone rang. The number was Brendon’s but the voice on the other end was Jon’s.
“Brendon told me to tell you that if you want to talk, he gets off at seven.”
Jon sounded amused and Ryan bit his lip around a small smile. “Okay,” he said.
“And,” Jon said. “You know if you need anything, we’re here for you. I mean, Brendon didn’t tell me to tell you that but I don’t think he’d mind.”
“Thanks,” Ryan said with a small laugh. “Really. Thank you.”
Jon’s “you’re welcome,” was nothing but sincere.
_._
“Hello?”
“Okay,” Ryan said without preamble. “I have to tell you something and. I just have to tell you something. It’s important.”
There was the static-y sound of Brendon shifting the phone from his shoulder to his hand or vice versa, and then Brendon’s worried voice was saying, “Ryan? What is it?”
Spencer still hadn’t called and Ryan had spent the afternoon and evening sitting in his living room, wired off of caffeine and guilt and a dozen other things. It was barely five past seven and Brendon had probably just gotten off of work but Ryan had to talk to somebody about this before he exploded or went crazy. He took a deep breath and rubbed one palm over the arm of his couch.
“Um, have you ever heard of, like, someone who’s kept?”
There was silence on the other end and then Ryan heard Brendon’s voice, muffled and confused, asking someone (probably Jon but Ryan could only hear a dull murmur of voices so he wasn’t sure) what a kept person was. When he came back his voice was bright. “I have now, why?”
Ryan chewed on the inside of his lip and then blurted out, “I’m one of those. I’m kept.”
“What? Whoa. Are you serious?”
Ryan nodded and then realized Brendon couldn’t see it. “Yeah, yeah I’m serious.”
Brendon said, “holy shit. I mean, I’m not trying to be an asshole but I just need a little clarification here. Someone is taking care of you in exchange for sex. Someone is paying you for sex.”
“I’m not a whore,” Ryan mumbled.
“No, no!” Brendon said quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just. Ryan, this is kind of fucked up. How does he pay you? Is it a he? Who is it?”
Ryan swallowed. “It’s Pete Wentz. And he doesn’t pay me. I mean, not in cash. But he gives me a place to live and I always have money in my bank account and there was that trip we took to New York a few months ago.”
When he put it like that, he really did sound like a whore; every single one of those things had come at a price, Ryan on his back or his knees, and that was how whores made their living, right? What really made them so different?
“Okay,” Brendon said slowly. “Okay, where is this guy? I’m going to kick the shit out of him. I’m going to hit him so hard he’ll forget he ever saw you, I swear to fucking God.”
Brendon’s chivalry was charming and Ryan felt something warm settle in his chest.
“Brendon,” he said softly.
“No, I’m serious!” Brendon insisted. “Who does he think he is? He should be fucking grateful for your company, not paying for it. Bastard.”
“It’s my choice,” Ryan told him. “It’s not his fault, I swear. I just. I don’t think I want to do this anymore.”
There was silence on the other end which meant Brendon was trying to stop himself from saying something stupid or cruel or both. He succeeded because all he did was ask why in a carefully controlled (and naturally curious) tone.
Ryan raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Lots of reasons.” He paused and then admitted, “I think I have a crush on Spencer.”
The lift of Brendon’s eyebrows was practically audible as he said, “oh really?”
“Yeah. That’s fucking stupid, right? I mean, we didn’t see each other for two years and we were best friends before that and he’s straight and I’ve got Pete-”
“Okay,” a new voice said, and Ryan realized Brendon had put him on speaker with Jon without him noticing. Sneaky little shit. “First of all, you don’t ‘have Pete’. You’re not dating him, you’re not married, you’re not even fuck buddies. Second of all, you’re kind of an idiot,” he added, cutting in before Ryan could say anything to defend himself.
“You really are,” Brendon agreed. “You’ve always been in love with Spencer. Even I knew that.”
“And have you seen the way he looks at you?” Jon asked. “It’s pretty obvious.”
It was, Ryan admitted to himself, but he’d been playing it off and ignoring it. He was already going to hell for everything he’d ever done, he didn’t want to drag Spencer into his fucked-up world on top of it. As if they could hear Ryan’s thoughts, Brendon and Jon both sighed loudly.
“Ryan,” Brendon started, but Ryan interrupted before he could finish that thought.
“I can’t tell him, not about Pete,” he said. “He’ll hate me. He’ll think I’m. I just can’t tell him.”
“Ryan,” Brendon said again.
Ryan felt a stab of fear in his gut; he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He didn’t want to think about it and he definitely didn’t want to acknowledge that any of it was real.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said quickly. “I’ll talk to you later.”
And then he hung up.
_._
This time the only reason Ryan was surprised to see Spencer standing in the hall when he opened the door was because of how late it was. Ryan blinked at him blearily. Spencer didn’t look tired, although Ryan was wondering if he’d slept at all. There were very faint bruises underneath his eyes that spoke of a sleepless night, but there was an energy crackling in Spencer’s body that was practically visible and meant he was obviously very awake.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Spencer said, pushing past Ryan without so much as a ‘hello’. He didn’t go far and Ryan had to lean against the door when he closed it behind them just to maintain clear personal space boundaries.
“About?” Ryan asked, his brain trying frantically to wake up.
“About the fact that I’ve thought about you every fucking day since you left,” he said, voice a little harsh. “And I know, I know it’s because we’re best friends or we were or whatever, but it’s more than that.”
Ryan frowned in confusion and Spencer blew out a breath, ruffling the bangs hanging in his eyes.
“Do you know how jealous I was when you told me about you and Brent? And the guy before that?” Spencer looked like he wanted an answer so Ryan shook his head, all of him icing over in what was threatening to turn into a full-blown panic. “It wasn’t because I thought they were going to steal my friend away or anything lame like that. It was because it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me you were kissing and it wasn’t me you were sneaking around with at night. It wasn’t me your dad caught you with. It was always somebody else.”
“Oh shit,” Ryan said under his breath, so quiet Spencer didn’t even hear it.
“It’s kind of been driving me crazy since you left that I never got the chance to just tell you,” Spencer went on, taking a step closer. “I was worried about fucking up our friendship but hey, you took off for parts unknown and it was all pretty irrelevant after that and I thought I’d lost my chance. But now you’re here and I’m here and I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. I mean,” he added, flashing Ryan a crooked grin, “what do I really have to lose this time?”
Ryan swallowed and opened his mouth to answer, but the words dissolved at the first tentative touch of Spencer’s lips. Fires ignited all up and down Ryan’s arms, goosebumps like landmines, and Spencer just kept the pressure light and teasing and so fucking heartfelt that Ryan’s knees went weak. He swayed forward and when Spencer cupped the side of his throat lightly and brushed a thumb over Ryan’s pulsepoint, he gasped into the kiss . Spencer took advantage, fitting his lips more firmly against Ryan’s and darting his tongue out to dip into Ryan’s mouth.
It was nothing like kissing Pete, nothing like kissing anyone before. Ryan felt like one touch to the right place would break him into pieces, little shards of need and want so sharp Spencer would be cut to ribbons. It was gloriously heady and the way Spencer swept his tongue through Ryan’s mouth was slow and languorous and careful and so good. Ryan couldn’t quite swallow back his moan and Spencer just let it melt over his tongue and then pulled back, tucking the sound into the corners of his own mouth, a motion Ryan felt when he followed it with his own tongue.
They kissed like that, against Ryan’s door, bodies separated by a scant few inches that taunted at them, lips sealed together. Ryan reached out hesitantly to run a hand over Spencer’s chest and was rewarded by Spencer pressing closer, lining them up from torso to hip, from thigh to knee. The kiss deepened, gaining an edge of purpose that had been lacking seconds before and Ryan didn’t want it to stop, could feel that Spencer didn’t either. He grasped mindlessly at Spencer’s hips, pulling him even closer, and sucked Spencer’s bottom lip into his mouth. Spencer groaned.
The shrill ringing of the phone surprised them both and Ryan sucked in a sharp breath, his mind muddled and his body buzzing. There was only one person it could be and reality came crashing down fast. Spencer leaned forward to kiss Ryan’s jaw and it took all Ryan had in him to duck out of his arms and shake his head.
“No,” he said, as firmly as he could.
Spencer turned to look at him and Ryan crossed his arms over his chest as if they could provide a decent barrier to that piercing stare. They were both out of breath and Spencer didn’t look any less confused than Ryan felt. The phone rang again, but Ryan didn’t make a move to go answer it.
“Why?” Spencer asked, and the question was calm but lined with hurt.
Ryan swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I can’t, Spence. I just can’t.”
Spencer’s eyes flashed with something that looked like regret and Ryan’s stomach turned, but he didn’t take it back. He wanted to, God did he want to, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to himself. He wouldn’t do that to Pete. He couldn’t do that to Spencer. They stared at each other for an eternity of painfully silent seconds and then Spencer nodded. There was a flurry of movement and then he was gone, leaving Ryan alone in his expensive, empty apartment.
_._
The next day, Ryan found himself at Starbucks again. He’d tried calling Pete back in the morning but there hadn’t been an answer, and then he’d tried to call Spencer with the same kind of luck. He wanted to wallow in his own misery but he couldn’t bring himself to stay home. He felt restless and like he needed something, some kind of companionship that didn’t come with strings attached. So he sought out Brendon.
“You’re lucky I filled in for Stacy,” Brendon told him as soon as he showed up. “This is usually my day off.”
Ryan just shrugged and asked for Brendon to surprise him again. The result this time was something iced and sharp in his mouth and throat; the significance was not lost on him.
“I’m an idiot,” Ryan said when Brendon walked over on his break.
“Well,” Brendon said, sitting down across from him, “yeah. What prompted this revelation?”
Without thinking, Ryan relayed the entire story with his eyes glued to the tabletop. Brendon made appropriate noises of shock and awe and at the end of it Ryan felt a little better. But only a little. When he looked up, Brendon was quiet and staring out onto the street.
“Do you like this Pete guy?” he finally asked.
Ryan thought about brushing the question off but he owed Brendon more than that, so he gave it an honest thought. He liked Pete, that wasn’t the problem. He liked Pete’s smiles and his sense of humor and the way he cuddled sometimes. But the love he’d had for Pete, that kind of like, had been killed off a long time ago by their arrangement. Nowadays, any other feelings Ryan had for Pete were buried under layers of practiced apathy and the occasional bout of bitterness.
“Sometimes,” Ryan answered honestly. “But. Not the way I like Spencer.”
Brendon hummed and nodded. “Okay, because apparently your . . . whatever he is, has a girlfriend.”
Ryan blinked. “What?”
“Yeah,” Brendon said. “Jon’s met her. Ashlee something? I don’t know, she’s on Pete’s record label I guess. They make the gossip rags a lot but I don’t read those often.”
Ryan did, embarrassingly enough, but he’d never seen any mention of Pete with Ashlee. Then again, he’d stopped really reading them ages ago and had only been going through the motions in the last several months. That seemed like something of a theme for him.
“Anyway,” Brendon went on. “What I’m saying is, if he has somebody, why can’t you have somebody?”
“Because I wouldn’t use him or Spencer like that,” Ryan answered quickly.
Brendon’s smile was sickeningly sweet and laden with understanding. “Ah,” he said. “You’re a good man, Ryan Ross. And you’re totally in love.”
Ryan flushed and shook his head because he wasn’t. He’d only known Spencer for . . . well, for most of his life but he hadn’t seen him at all since leaving Vegas. It was impossible for him to be in love with Spencer. Unless he always had been. Brendon’s words from the day before, you’ve always been in love with Spencer, raced through Ryan’s brain. He’d ignored them earlier but now they were insistent and maybe . . . maybe it was true.
“What do you know about love?” Ryan asked defensively, pushing that thought roughly away.
Brendon’s eyes darted over to where Jon was working at the counter, chatting amiably with a group of young kids. His face softened and he shook his head.
“Not much,” he said, turning back to Ryan. “But you didn’t say you aren’t.”
Brendon had a point.
_._
The problem was, Ryan mused, that he didn’t really know what to do with the whole ‘being in love’ thing. For all that he was pretty in touch with his emotions or whatever, it wasn’t like Ryan had a lot of experience with this sort of thing. Barring the crushes he’d had before Pete, always the same kind of intense rush of ‘this is it, I’ll make this last forever’, and then Pete himself, Ryan had never actually been in love with anyone. Well, except for Spencer, apparently, since he’d pretty much always been in love with Spencer according to Brendon.
Not that Ryan even knew how that worked. They’d been best friends. Best guy friends, skateboarding and playing video games and with no sexual tension whatsoever. So how had Ryan fallen in love? And more importantly, how had he done it without even noticing? Ryan was comfortable enough with himself to admit that he was a hopeless romantic. He’d always thought that a love like this would hit him so hard and be so obvious, a cheesy string-quartet soundtrack would be the only thing missing.
Instead, it snuck up on him. In fact, it snuck up on him so well, even Brendon had figured it out before Ryan. Ryan had never even had a clue. And maybe, maybe there had been a clue. But it was forbidden territory, thinking about his best friend in any way that went beyond being good buddies. Why he couldn’t seem to be able to get back to that way of thinking, Ryan didn’t know. The time spent apart, the life he was currently living, either could be factors but it was entirely possible that Ryan was just ready for it, to face it and accept it and act on it.
“No,” he told himself while he watched some leftover something bake in the radiation of the microwave. “Not acting on it.”
Because it was off-limits, even moreso now than when they’d been ‘just friends’. Everything was too complicated at his point and Ryan had already made his stance clear. He’d spent all day waiting for a phone call, some sign that he hadn’t fucked everything up completely. It was way past midnight and he just had to accept the fact that he and Spencer were probably done forever. Just thinking it sent a stabbing pain through Ryan, a pain that lanced from the pit of his stomach to his heart and made his lungs constrict.
“Shit,” he groaned, letting his head fall against the kitchen counter with a thunk.
Two seconds later, the microwave dinged. It took him five more minutes to force himself to move.
_._
The next morning, Ryan woke up to the feel of lips against the top his spine. He’d fallen asleep too late and it felt way too damn early for this to be something he could really be in support of, but it was Pete and this was Ryan’s place. So he arched into the touch and tried not to tense up when Pete’s hand slid under his shirt and splayed over his stomach. Pete brushed a thumb over Ryan’s hipbone and nipped at the back of Ryan’s neck. The combination of sensations elicited an unconscious shiver; Ryan’s body was honestly responsive but his brain was weighed down and reluctant.
“Morning,” Pete breathed into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan mumbled something in return and pushed his hips back, rubbing his ass over Pete’s erection, trying to push the other man into getting this over with. But Pete didn’t seem to have any such ideas, which was abnormal for a round of morning sex. Usually when Pete showed up before noon like this, he wanted it over quickly. It was a way of relieving stress before a big meeting or something like that and Ryan didn’t normally mind; after, Pete would clean up and leave and Ryan would roll over and go back to sleep.
This time, Pete tugged Ryan’s shirt off and then rolled him from his side over onto his stomach, lips falling to the prominent ridge of one shoulder blade. Ryan went still, felt Pete’s hands framing his hips, and wondered how he was going to get through this. It wasn’t actually that difficult from a physical standpoint, not with the way Pete was using his teeth and tongue and lips over all of Ryan’s most sensitive spots. Ryan was almost painfully hard within two minutes and his mind was rebelling but his body loved this, wanted more.
“Like this?” Pete asked, his voice falling into Ryan’s ears from what seemed like a million miles away.
Ryan just groaned and ground his hips into the mattress, seeking some kind of friction, aching for release.
“You’re such a whore for this,” Pete panted and he’d said that before, he said it all the time. Pete was a talker in bed, sometimes, words tripping fast and dirty past his lips. Ryan didn’t pay attention to them, but he liked listening to the sound of Pete’s voice, liked the way it rasped at his skin like the most delicious touch.
This, though, this just made Ryan’s mind buck against what was happening again, more fiercely this time. He was held in the vice grip of a maelstrom of confusion, his brain and his body warring against each other and Pete was behind him, tongue tasting the base of his spine, leaving him nowhere to run to. A sob ripped itself from Ryan’s throat when Pete spread the cheeks of his ass and licked over his hole, bold and insistent.
Ryan buried his face in the pillow he’d been sleeping on just fifteen minutes ago and tried to steady his breathing, tried to do anything but think (if he didn’t think, his body took over; if his body took over it was just like always, it was fine, everything was okay). But Ryan couldn’t help but think. Pete had never done this before, had never wanted to do this before. So why now?
“Pete,” Ryan gasped, leaning up on his elbows so he could be heard. “Pete, what are you-”
“Shhhh,” Pete breathed, pressing a quick kiss low on Ryan’s back. “I want to do this for you.” But he sounded unsure and insecure.
Ryan swallowed and squirmed. “Just fuck me,” he said. “Please, I need it. Just. That.”
“Ryan-”
“Please,” Ryan said, his voice almost a whimper, his insides vibrating desperately.
“Okay,” Pete said. “Okay.”
The short time it took him to slide a condom on and slick his cock felt like a lifetime, but he didn’t even take the time to prep Ryan; apparently Pete had assumed that Ryan’s pleading meant he was already ready. But he wasn’t and Pete just slammed in and it hurt, fuck it hurt. Ryan keened high in his throat and bucked up against Pete’s body, trying to adjust and he was still hard, Jesus, why? Why was this still so good?
Pete ran a hand up Ryan’s back and tangled his fingers in Ryan’s hair. He tugged and Ryan felt his head go back, stretched to an almost uncomfortable angle, his pants and moans being directed nearly to the ceiling. Pete was talking again, about how tight Ryan was, how hot, how fucking gorgeous and mine, mine, mine.
“Nngh,” Ryan ground out, but he couldn’t finish it, couldn’t say ‘no’.
Pete’s cock was hard and thick and Pete himself was ruthless. Ryan felt like he was being branded with ever jarring collision of Pete’s sharp hipbones against his ass, with every mindless pull of his hair. And Ryan, Ryan felt more bruised and battered the longer it went on but he wanted this, too, wanted to be claimed like this, wanted to belong to somebody. Just not to Pete. Not anymore.
Not yours, Ryan thought, thinking of Spencer and that kiss up against the door of this very apartment. Not yours, not yours, not yours.
When Pete finally reached around Ryan’s body to fist his cock, it took more than the usual number of strokes despite how hard he was. Ryan’s orgasm was ripped from his body, leaving him sticky and unsatisfied and he could feel Pete riding him through the aftershocks; when the other man finally went still with a deep sigh, Ryan’s groan was one of relief. Pete didn’t notice.
He slipped out and Ryan rolled onto his side, listened as Pete tied the condom off. Ryan stayed still as Pete curled up behind him and then they were both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Pete was holding onto Ryan the way he always did when something was wrong, hands and arms desperately clinging at the younger man’s hips and chest, and even though Ryan felt like his world was crashing down around him, he found himself rolling over.
“Hey,” he said, reaching up to brush Pete’s hair from his sleep-deprived eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Pete caught his gaze and Ryan felt like he’d been punched in the gut; the whirlpool of dissenting feelings and thoughts that Ryan saw seemed to mirror his own directly and it had been a long, long time since he’d ever felt like he and Pete were emotionally compatible, let alone experiencing the same thing.
“Nothing,” Pete said before ducking his head and nudging his nose along Ryan’s. “Everything, I don’t even fucking know.”
“Yeah,” Ryan breathed, sliding his hand to the back of Pete’s neck and hanging on. “Yeah.”
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