[Oh god, no, he can't take that. He can't take earnest promises, people swearing up and down about things they can't control. Everyone hurts everyone, the simple fact that kept John isolated for so long - the only way to win was, and is, not to play. Now he's set up cravings that get past all his good sense, simply by letting his guard down for a second too long with all the wrong people (wrong for very different reasons, but still wrong), and those promises are so much more dangerous than any assertion that John is special or needed.
Believing a promise makes him much more vulnerable than believing a lie.]
Don't - don't - this is so fucking perfect, Ryan, don't ruin this now -
[The flicker of hesitation says it all. That was too far, wasn't it-- god, it's the first time they've kissed, the first time John's actually given in to whatever attraction might be there (that Ryan hopes is there, what if this is just experimenting too) and he can't help but back off.
He almost does physically as well, but part of that thought's sticking with him-- this is so fucking perfect-- so Ryan doesn't let go, just leans back in to catch his mouth in another needy kiss. There aren't any words in his thoughts, just that want- and a lingering touch of something almost guilty, sort of apologetic.]
[Yes. That's what he needs, the want, the desperation - not promises of care and protection. He starts rocking his hips forward again, more pointedly this time, making his intention and desire clear with the press of a burgeoning erection against Ryan's thigh. For once, he's unequivocally enjoying this, and he doesn't want that changing. He wants to get as much from this as he can.
He wants to feel every single bit of how much Ryan wanted - and wants - him.]
[That goes a long way toward getting those thoughts out of Ryan's mind-- getting everything out of it, really. He'd been with Petre in an attempt to see if it'd tune him out for a bit, let him have some peace, and he's finding it works even better when it's John.
The way Ryan pushes up against him is more desperate, all eagerness and heat- perhaps some of John's reflected back at him, who knows, but whether it's his or Ryan's own, there's a certain warmth in those wordless thoughts that drift over to him. There's been a spark for a while, and now that he's letting himself kindle it into a flame it turns out hotter than he'd expected.]
[He doesn't know what he needs, but this isn't enough. Just rubbing together like this isn't enough. Actual fucking is a whole different ballgame, someone saying he wasn't ready for that would be very much correct, but the friction of fabric against his cock is just driving him insane.]
If John hadn't asked, he wouldn't have made this kind of move-- but the words remove any doubt he might have had, keep him from being as hesitant as he might otherwise be as he reaches down to open the fly of John's pants.]
-anything you want. Any of it. Just tell me.
[And then Ryan's hand is brushing against him, with an almost audible murmur.]
[Anything. A dangerous offer. But for now, a hand other than his own touching him is more than enough.]
Oh god - [It's out loud, automatic, but he bites down hard on his lip this time as his head rolls back and he rocks up into the touch. Ryan really does have amazing hands. They've barely started to work and John is already trembling atop him, still worrying at his lip even after the initial urge to cry out has passed.]
That - yeah. That's good. Do you want -
[Anything, because as selfishly as he's taking, he needs to learn the whole process here. Should they be doing this at the same time? Should he take his shirt off, wriggle out of his jeans to give Ryan an easier grip? It's not that different, not really, but he still feels like he'd know where he stood so much more clearly with a girl.]
[Just him and his willingness and those sounds he makes, so unlike anything Ryan's heard from him before, making him eager to pull more of them out. It doesn't matter that they're here, that they could be overheard; all Ryan wants is to make him feel as good as possible, show him it can be like this. That it's not something to reject or avoid.
He tugs John's pants out of the way (more easily, because guess who forgot John had sweatpants on, oops) to make touching him easier, starting to stroke instead of just brushing fingertips across skin.]
[Just you. It echoes and echoes through his head. Oh, this is dangerous, this is potentially addictive. And there's not a chance they'll want the same things from it if the addiction grows.
But dangerous and potentially addictive are things he thrives on, and when they're combined with Ryan's hands stroking him properly, nothing could make him stop. Not the moments of actual affection that he's felt, not the confused desire for things he knows he can't allow himself, nothing. Those sounds Ryan wants are muffled, his teeth still holding his bottom lip punishingly tight, but they can't be stopped either; nor can his hips, rolling and riding Ryan's hand just a little bit harder and faster than what he offers. Even if he ups the pressure, the speed, John will push for more. Any concerns about how long he'll last or how he'll look are a million miles from his mind, lost in the sheer pleasure.]
God, oh fuck, yeah, don't - [At some point he slips, starts speaking aloud, voice quiet but as hoarse as if he'd been screaming for hours.] - don't stop, it's so good, just - fuck, I need this, please -
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no subject
Believing a promise makes him much more vulnerable than believing a lie.]
Don't - don't - this is so fucking perfect, Ryan, don't ruin this now -
no subject
He almost does physically as well, but part of that thought's sticking with him-- this is so fucking perfect-- so Ryan doesn't let go, just leans back in to catch his mouth in another needy kiss. There aren't any words in his thoughts, just that want- and a lingering touch of something almost guilty, sort of apologetic.]
no subject
He wants to feel every single bit of how much Ryan wanted - and wants - him.]
no subject
The way Ryan pushes up against him is more desperate, all eagerness and heat- perhaps some of John's reflected back at him, who knows, but whether it's his or Ryan's own, there's a certain warmth in those wordless thoughts that drift over to him. There's been a spark for a while, and now that he's letting himself kindle it into a flame it turns out hotter than he'd expected.]
no subject
[He doesn't know what he needs, but this isn't enough. Just rubbing together like this isn't enough. Actual fucking is a whole different ballgame, someone saying he wasn't ready for that would be very much correct, but the friction of fabric against his cock is just driving him insane.]
- touch me -
no subject
If John hadn't asked, he wouldn't have made this kind of move-- but the words remove any doubt he might have had, keep him from being as hesitant as he might otherwise be as he reaches down to open the fly of John's pants.]
-anything you want. Any of it. Just tell me.
[And then Ryan's hand is brushing against him, with an almost audible murmur.]
no subject
Oh god - [It's out loud, automatic, but he bites down hard on his lip this time as his head rolls back and he rocks up into the touch. Ryan really does have amazing hands. They've barely started to work and John is already trembling atop him, still worrying at his lip even after the initial urge to cry out has passed.]
That - yeah. That's good. Do you want -
[Anything, because as selfishly as he's taking, he needs to learn the whole process here. Should they be doing this at the same time? Should he take his shirt off, wriggle out of his jeans to give Ryan an easier grip? It's not that different, not really, but he still feels like he'd know where he stood so much more clearly with a girl.]
no subject
[Just him and his willingness and those sounds he makes, so unlike anything Ryan's heard from him before, making him eager to pull more of them out. It doesn't matter that they're here, that they could be overheard; all Ryan wants is to make him feel as good as possible, show him it can be like this. That it's not something to reject or avoid.
He tugs John's pants out of the way (more easily, because guess who forgot John had sweatpants on, oops) to make touching him easier, starting to stroke instead of just brushing fingertips across skin.]
no subject
But dangerous and potentially addictive are things he thrives on, and when they're combined with Ryan's hands stroking him properly, nothing could make him stop. Not the moments of actual affection that he's felt, not the confused desire for things he knows he can't allow himself, nothing. Those sounds Ryan wants are muffled, his teeth still holding his bottom lip punishingly tight, but they can't be stopped either; nor can his hips, rolling and riding Ryan's hand just a little bit harder and faster than what he offers. Even if he ups the pressure, the speed, John will push for more. Any concerns about how long he'll last or how he'll look are a million miles from his mind, lost in the sheer pleasure.]
God, oh fuck, yeah, don't - [At some point he slips, starts speaking aloud, voice quiet but as hoarse as if he'd been screaming for hours.] - don't stop, it's so good, just - fuck, I need this, please -