FIC: "The Best-Laid Plans," Ryan/Jon, NC17

[stephanometra]

Title: The Best-Laid Plans
Pairing: Ryan/Jon
Rating: NC17 (SHOCK AND AWE)
Summary: Ryan's a patiently sadistic little bitch and Jon kind of loves it a lot.
Warnings: None
Notes: This was supposed to be a 300-word ficlet for brandixcyanide's birthday (prompt: Panic, and "Whatever you feel like doing, I'm not picky!"), and turned into 4000 words of shameless pornography for Jon's. In just under the wire! Whether or not Jon Walker would actually appreciate such a present is pretty much immaterial. Thanks to hegemony for the summary, to ailleann23 for helping me fix the porn (she says, like the whole damn thing isn't porn), and to anoneknewmoose and lyo for the once-overs.

***

"I told you, dude," Jon repeats. "Anything you want to do is good."

Ryan huffs and sits back on his heels, folding his arms across his chest. "And I told you that you're ruining it," he says. His glare is somewhat ruined by the fact that he's kneeling naked on the bed next to Jon, close enough to feel the heat of his skin, cock half-hard between his splayed thighs.

"I'm not ruining it. I'm just not picky." He reaches out to touch Ryan's knee, and Ryan makes a discontented noise and moves away.

"No touching me," he says. "This is supposed to be about you."

"Well, what if what I want to do is touch you?" Jon gives Ryan his showiest grin, daring him to fault Jon's logic.

Ryan looks unimpressed. "You aren't taking this seriously at all."

"Of course I am," Jon says.

He reaches for Ryan again, and then quickly pulls his hand back when Ryan narrows his eyes and says, "Don't make me tie your hands."

"There is some pretty epic point-missing going on here, I think," Jon grumbles.

"Says the jackass whose brilliant response was, 'Whatever,' when I told him I would do anything he wanted for his birthday," Ryan snipes back.

"Ryan." Jon rolls his eyes. "If it bothers you that much, maybe you could just, I don't know, tell me what my options are. Then I can choose."

Ryan still looks unimpressed, but his expression takes on a speculative quality. "Hmm," he says. "Maybe. Okay." He crawls forward and dips his head to kiss the corner of Jon's mouth, opening easily for Jon's tongue when Jon deepens the kiss.

"Hi," Jon says, breathless, when they break apart.

"Hi," Ryan replies, giving Jon a half-smile. "We could do this all night, if you want."

"What, make out?" Jon considers. "Not very fun if I don't get to touch you."

"True." He pulls back a little and touches Jon's chest, trails his fingers down to his thigh. "Or..."

Jon's breath hitches, and he spreads his legs a little, just to give Ryan room to work if he wants it. "What?"

In one smooth motion, Ryan throws a leg over Jon's, straddling Jon's thighs, bracing his hands on the bed. His dick nudges against Jon's when he leans forward to mouth Jon's collarbone, trailing wet kisses up Jon's neck and across his jaw to his ear. "Or we could do this," he says, pressing his hips deliberately against Jon's in a slow, dirty grind. "Rub against you until you come all over both of us. Get us all wet."

"Jesus." Jon gasps, cock jerking between them; Ryan just smiles, the smug bastard, even though his breaths are coming a little faster, too, and a delicate flush is spreading across his chest. "Or?" Jon manages to ask, gasping at the loss when Ryan raises up and sits back on Jon's thighs.

Ryan lightly scores his nails down Jon's ribs and splays his fingers just below his navel, teasingly close to Jon's cock. He brings his other hand to his mouth and showily licks his palm and the length of each finger before reaching down to curl his hand around Jon's dick. "Or I could stroke you, just like this. Slow at first, faster when you need it. Easy, rough, however you want. I know you like my hands."

"I love your hands," Jon says fervently. He drops his head back against the pillow and arches into Ryan's touch, fucking up into his hand a little.

Predictably, just when Jon's really getting into the rhythm, Ryan stops.

Jon breathes out hard through his nose and gives Ryan a frustrated look. "What," he says, subtly shifting his hips so as to remind Ryan that he just stopped right in the middle of a perfectly good handjob. That doesn't seem to be the kind of thing a guy could forget easily when he's got someone else's dick in his hand, but honestly, all bets are off where Ryan's short-term memory is concerned.

"I'm not done telling you your choices yet," Ryan says patiently. He lets go of Jon's dick and wipes his spit-slick hand on the sheets, and then shimmies down the bed until he can set his knees inside Jon's, pushing Jon's legs a little farther apart.

"I'm not sure I care," Jon says.

That's pretty much completely a lie, and Ryan obviously knows it, judging from the look he gives Jon right before he bends forward and drags his tongue up the underside of Jon's dick. "So you don't want to hear about how I could suck you off?" Ryan asks Jon's cock, breath moving hot over the saliva drying on Jon's skin.

"Uh." Jon stares at Ryan's mouth. "Well, if it's on offer, I guess it couldn't hurt."

"Glad you think so," Ryan says. He swirls his tongue around the head of Jon's dick, closes his lips around it and sucks for a brief second before pulling off with a soft pop. Abruptly, he says, "I can deep-throat, you know."

"Fuck!" Jon's hips spasm, completely independent of his desire or control; seemingly anticipating this, Ryan moves back just in time to avoid getting a faceful of dick. "Fuck, Ross, no, I did not actually know that."

"I don't really like doing it," he confesses. "It's hard to breathe, and it totally wrecks your voice."

"Okay, well, you don't―"

"I'd do it for you, though," Ryan continues, like Jon didn't say anything at all. "Wouldn't want to make a habit of it, or anything, but since it's your birthday I figured I'd let you know." He thoughtfully tongues the crown of Jon's dick again, humming low in his throat, and then looks up to meet Jon's eyes. "You'd like that, I bet. I'd get you nice and wet first, then just let you go, let you fuck my mouth. I can take it."

"Ryan," Jon whimpers. His fingers clutch uselessly at the sheets; he's so close to just pushing his hands into Ryan's hair and pushing him down onto his cock, warnings be damned. It'd probably be over really, really soon, anyway.

"Or," Ryan says, and Jon groans, because he doesn't know how much more of this he can stand. "Or I could fuck you. And that's got a whole set of possibilities all on its own."

"Possibilities?" Jon asks weakly.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, there's the obvious―could fold you in half. Bend you over the bed or the counter in the bathroom. Let you ride me." His fingers press gently behind Jon's balls, rubbing warm and dry over his hole as he sucks a bruise into the inside of Jon's thigh. "And there's the question of how I'm going to get you ready for me; I could spread you wide and eat you open before I give you my fingers, if that's what you wanted. If that's what you asked for."

"Holy shit, your mouth," Jon moans, sharp, breaking off as he arches up off the mattress. He watches wild-eyed as Ryan darts his tongue out to tease at the head of his dick, and his dick throbs insistently as Ryan gently presses down on the jut of his hipbone.

Ryan gives Jon a wicked look. "Good choice," he says, and goes down.

Jon moans again as Ryan gives him a few shallow, sloppy strokes―getting him wet, just like he said he would―and then takes a deep breath. The head of Jon's cock nudges against the roof of Ryan's mouth, the back of his throat. Ryan's eyes close; he swallows, and then Jon is all the way in, surrounded by the slick heat of Ryan's throat. "Oh, fuck," Jon says, biting his lip hard. His hips snap up off the bed when Ryan pulls back a little, chasing the sensation.

Ryan looks up at him again, clearly amused; bracing his elbows on the mattress, he slides his hands under Jon's ass and arches an eyebrow.

Jon doesn't need to be told twice.

He doesn't really expect Ryan to just take it when Jon thrusts up into his mouth, but that's what Ryan does, swallowing smoothly, lips stretched red and wet around the base. It feels―Christ, it's like nothing Jon's ever felt before, the texture, the heat. He rocks up into Ryan's mouth, moaning, clenching his fists around handfuls of the crisp cotton sheets. He wants to touch, to push his hands into Ryan's hair, but as things stand right now, the bite of his fingernails into his palms is all that's keeping him from coming, and even that won't hold him back for long.

"God." Groaning, Jon presses his knuckles hard against the outsides of his thighs. "Ryan, fuck."

He knows, rationally, that it would hardly bring an end to the night's festivities if he came, but he wants to hold off a little longer. It's just hard to do that with Ryan sucking him down like he's on a mission from God, eyes flitting up to meet Jon's when Jon's dick is buried in his throat. That look is fucking dangerous, dark and amused and so fucking hot. Jon doesn't stand a chance.

"Stop," he gasps, begging, trying to stop his hips from thrusting up into the heat of Ryan's mouth, trying to rein himself in. "Fuck, please stop, too soon."

Ryan just hums low in his throat and swirls his tongue around the head, shoulders heaving as he takes another breath in preparation for another deep, flawless downstroke. Jon stops him with one hand firm on his shoulder, the other tangling frantically in his hair.

He drops his hands as Ryan pulls back and watches helplessly as Ryan slowly and deliberately licks his swollen, red lips.

"I told you not to touch," Ryan says, tone flat, voice rough and used.

Jon knows he's not mad, not really―he doesn't generally mind when Jon gets a little handsy―but if Ryan bothers laying down a rule, he expects Jon to follow it. "Ryan―" he starts.

"I told you," Ryan repeats. He straightens up, sitting back on his heels, and gives Jon a long, unimpressed look. "Turn over."

Jon quirks an eyebrow, but he goes easily enough, rolling onto his stomach. Ryan catches his wrists before Jon can fold his arms under his head and drags them to the center of his back, one crossed over the other with one of Ryan's long-fingered hands curled around them. It's not a very firm hold, but Jon doesn't test it, doesn't try to pull away; he just relaxes into the bed and waits for Ryan's next move.

Ryan leans over Jon's back to kiss his shoulder blade. "Spread your legs," he says.

"What happened to letting me choose?" Jon asks, even as he obligingly parts his thighs, grinding a little against the sheets.

"Change of plans." Ryan shifts, settling between Jon's legs and pushing his knees a little further apart. His grip on Jon's wrists doesn't loosen.

Jon sighs softly as Ryan's hand skims the curve of his ass. "I feel compelled to remind you that you said I could have whatever I wanted."

"You want this," Ryan promises, and that's all the warning Jon gets before Ryan's free hand spreads him open and Ryan's tongue strokes over his hole.

"Christ," Jon moans. "Yeah, okay, I want." His cock throbs, trapped between his belly and the bed.

Ryan hums approvingly and swirls his tongue around Jon's rim, his fingers rubbing lightly over the skin just below, his fingertip teasing at the edge like he's flirting with the idea of pushing inside, but he hasn't made up his mind yet. "Good," he says. "Because I'm going to make you come like this. Just from this."

Jon shudders, suddenly glad that Ryan's still holding on to his wrists, because he knows that if he had any leverage at all, he'd be rocking back into the hot press of Ryan's mouth, and that might make Ryan change his plans again. And that would suck, because Jon really likes this plan. "Yeah?" he asks. "You think you can?"

"Hmm," Ryan says. His tongue flicks out again, just barely pushing into Jon's ass before going back to licking around the edges again. "I know I can."

"Awfully sure of yourself, Ross."

"Of my ability to get you off?" He pauses to blow gently over the wet skin of Jon's crease, just to make him shiver. "Yeah. I am."

He sounds so fucking self-satisfied, like he knows precisely how easy Jon is for him. Jon thinks he should probably be offended, but instead he just groans, spreading his thighs a little wider and arching his back, begging for touch. "Less talking, more fucking," he says, his voice low and insistent.

Ryan huffs a laugh and squeezes Jon's wrists. "Oh, I'm going to fuck you. But I want you to come first, so you're all sleepy and loose and I can be as rough as I want."

Jon opens his mouth to reply, but then Ryan slides his finger and his tongue into Jon's ass, which makes coherent speech kind of difficult.

It's not perfect, a little too dry to be comfortable even with Ryan's tongue slipping around his finger, but Jon is so keyed up that he doesn't mind, doesn't care about anything but the drag of Ryan's callused fingertip over his prostate, the way he feels the touch everywhere. He stutters out nonsense into sheets that are hot and wet from the press of his mouth as he pants into the bed. "Shit, shit, Ryan," he moans, and Ryan just pushes in a second finger alongside the first, working his tongue between and around his fingers as he fucks them in and out of Jon's ass.

Jon bears down on Ryan's hand and rolls his hips against the bed. He can feel the wet spot spreading around the head of his dick, can feel the ragged edge of orgasm approaching. Ryan hums in concentration and presses his upper lip against Jon's rim so he can work his tongue in a little deeper, moving his mouth along with his fingers in slow, short thrusts. It's too good; Jon lasts for maybe a minute of Ryan's clever fingers stroking him just right on the inside before he gasps out his pleasure, tugging against Ryan's tight grasp on his wrists as he comes all over the sheets.

Ryan's fingers keep working as Jon shudders through the aftershocks, but he pulls his mouth away, grinning against the curve of Jon's ass instead. He really is a smug bastard, but Jon supposes he has a right to be.

"God," Jon says, as soon as he's caught his breath.

He makes a discontented noise when Ryan twists his fingers free, but it turns into a pleased sigh when Ryan finally lets go of his wrists and pushes Jon's hands out of the way, so he can run his tongue up Jon's spine in one long, slow stripe that ends with a soft kiss to the back of Jon's neck.

Jon winces a little as he rolls his shoulders―he'd maybe been holding himself a little too tightly―and then folds his arms under his head, resting his cheek on his forearm. Keeping his eyes open seems like an awful lot of effort.

"Told you I could do it," Ryan says, brushing his lips over the shell of Jon's ear. He drops his weight on Jon's back for a second and reaches over to the nightstand, snagging the lube and the entire string of condoms, before pulling back to sit between Jon's thighs again, his knees nudging the insides of Jon's thighs.

"Mm. Too bad you cheated."

There's the sound of Ryan tearing into a condom packet, flipping open the cap of the lube. "What? I did not."

Jon whines softly as Ryan pushes two fingers into him again, slick with lube this time. "You did. I rubbed off on the bed."

"Good point. Next time you won't get anything touching your dick." He pulls out his fingers and slaps Jon's ass lightly. "Hands and knees."

"Next time?" Jon asks, forcing his sleepy limbs to cooperate so he can prop himself up on his elbows. His knees bracket Ryan's, and he feels Ryan's dick riding over the curve of his ass.

"Maybe this time," Ryan amends, as he lines up and pushes into Jon in one smooth motion.

Groaning loudly, Jon rocks backwards, taking Ryan deeper. The stretch is a lot, even though he's loose and pliant so soon after coming, but it's blunted by the sated hum under his skin.

When he bottoms out, Ryan stills, his hips pressed tight against Jon's ass and his cock all the way inside. "Okay?" he asks.

Jon grins. "Less talking, more fucking," he says again, turning his head to look back at Ryan over his shoulder.

Ryan smiles back, skimming a palm over the curve of Jon's ass, and then starts moving.

He sets a rhythm that's just right, rolling his hips so that his cock drags steadily over Jon's prostate, and Jon's still sensitive enough that it's the best kind of intense. The come smeared on his belly prickles a little bit as he gets hard again, but the feeling of Ryan filling him up is just so good, so much more, that Jon barely notices, especially when Ryan picks up the pace.

Ryan has one hand curled possessively around Jon's hip, but the other hand wanders, stroking down Jon's spine and up his thigh, slipping his fingers down to trace the stretched-taut skin of Jon's rim. Jon moans encouragingly when Ryan's hand creeps around to the stroke the crease of Jon's thigh, almost touching Jon's cock.

"Yeah, yeah," he breathes. There's no way he'll be able to come again, not this soon, but Ryan is fucking him so thoroughly that his dick is pulsing hot between his thighs, begging for attention.

Ryan's fingers slide over the jut of Jon's hipbone, coming closer and closer to his dick, but he stops short when he digs his fingertips into the sticky skin of Jon's belly. He inhales sharply, and the motion of his hips stutters a little before he picks up the rhythm again, groaning a little. "Fuck, you're filthy, aren't you?" he says, sounding almost awed. He slicks his fingers through the half-dried mess on Jon's belly, brushing Jon's cock just enough to make Jon whine low in his throat when Ryan pulls his hand away.

"Ross," Jon complains, shifting his legs, debating dropping one shoulder onto the mattress so he can touch himself, needing it, but then he hears the unmistakable sound of Ryan sucking messily on his fingers―fingers which are covered in Jon's come. "Jesus, Ryan."

"So fucking dirty," Ryan moans. "Want you to come again, when you're still dirty from the first one. Want to taste it."

Jon shudders and presses his forehead against his forearms, pushing his ass back into Ryan's hips. "Gonna have to fuck me harder, if you want me to come just from your cock," he says. He licks his lips, and then says, "That is what you want, isn't it?"

Ryan clamps his hand around Jon's hip. "Yeah, I want," he says.

He pulls out almost all the way and then slams forward, hard enough that Jon overbalances and has to catch himself by stretching out his arms in front of him, and fuck, it feels good, the difference in the angle, the stretch in his shoulders. Jon knows his thighs will be killing him later, but he can take it; he thinks that he probably wants to be feeling it later, anyway. His cock is still begging for attention, but it's easy enough to lose himself in the slap of Ryan's hips against his ass, making good on his promise to be rough.

Ryan moves thick and hot inside him, still stroking him just right inside, but Jon groans in frustration as he realizes that it's not going to be enough; he's riding the edge, but he doesn't think he can come again just from this, not before Ryan does, not without a hand on him.

Misunderstanding, Ryan asks, "Are you close?" His voice is liquid and dirty and low. "You going to give me what I want?" He drags Jon backwards into his thrusts, smacking into him even harder, and Jon knows he'll have bruises in the morning, but even that's not enough.

"I can't―" Jon moans. "Ryan, I need." He bunches his hands in the sheets, moaning as his cock throbs.

Ryan makes a strangled sound, and his fingers spasm around Jon's hips. "Okay, yeah. Touch yourself, go."

Gratefully, Jon drops one shoulder onto the bed so he can reach down to curl his hand around his dick, hips jerking a little when he finally takes himself in hand. His skin is tacky with dried come, but there's enough fresh slick for him to move his hand easily, even though he mostly just squeezes around his cock and lets Ryan do the work for him, rocking Jon forward with the force of his thrusts.

It doesn't last long after that; Ryan has been holding himself back, trying to make it good for Jon, but he can't hold out forever. He slams forward one last time, gasping as he comes, and stays there, buried inside with his dick pressed tight against Jon's prostate, and Jon is so close he could cry.

As soon as he catches his breath, Ryan unclenches his fingers from Jon's hip and reaches around to touch Jon's hand where he's stroking himself. "Come on," he urges, curling his fingers around Jon's, thumbing over the head of Jon's cock.

Jon makes a low, thready noise; his back arches even more, almost but not quite to the point of pain, and he spurts all over Ryan's fingers, feeling Ryan moan as he strokes Jon through it.

Neither of them moves for a minute after, plastered together with sweat, but Ryan gently pulls out when Jon flexes his thighs and makes a soft interrogative sound. Ryan sits back heavily on the mattress and pushes at Jon's hip until Jon rolls over, narrowly avoiding kneeing Ryan in the face. He'd apologize for that, except that Ryan is looking at him with dark, heavy-lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean, making a pleased noise deep in his throat when he sucks the last of it off his fingertips.

They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Jon clambers up onto his elbows and Ryan crawls forward so they can kiss, Jon sliding his fingers into Ryan's hair to hold him still so Jon can taste himself on Ryan's tongue. It's so hot that it shouldn't be legal, so hot that the muscles in Jon's groin flex unconsciously, even though he's pretty sure a third round would kill him at this point.

Ryan presses his forehead against Jon's when they break for air, panting against Jon's lips. "Well."

"Yeah," Jon says. They could go for round three, probably, but they'd need to wait awhile. Maybe shower first.

"So much for that," Ryan says.

Jon blinks, because what? "What?"

Ryan sighs and turns his head to nuzzle at Jon's cheekbone. "I think I just conclusively proved that I'm really bad at, um, taking requests."

And that makes Jon laugh a little, pressing his lips to the very corner of Ryan's mouth. "Don't say that," he says.

"But it's true," Ryan says.

"So? I still got exactly what I wanted."

Ryan gives him a skeptical look. "Really?

Jon grins and tugs gently on Ryan's hair until Ryan smiles, too. "Yeah. I did."

***