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Ryland was pretty sure his job was fake. Being a speculative astrobiologist sounded like a fake job. A “Hallmark Movie ass job” as Marissa would’ve called it, like a pet psychologist or ballet shoe painter. Things that existed, but were hard for the average person to believe were real. The world was full of niche nooks and crannies that became the careers of people who would stay unknown to the greater public. He’d been extremely doubtful when Colt had assured him that there was a job on set very seriously titled “Best Boy.” Ryland supposed that particular niche was one of his own blindspots. Despite Colt’s well-decorated career, Ryland obviously didn’t know anything about what happened on a movie set.
Honestly, if he were inclined to conspiratorial thinking, he’d swear this whole project was a scheme to keep Ryland busy for the summer. Seasonal depression was no joke, even if it hit him at the opposite time of year. It seemed like whenever summer rolled around, Colt had something he demanded Ryland’s help with. No matter how small or nonsensical. Half the reason he was inclined to believe this was at all genuine was that Jody had asked him instead of Colt. Even beyond summer shenanigans, Colt had a history of trying to get Ryland on any set for any reason, to the point where Ryland was written into his contracts much the same way that Colt was written into Ryder’s contracts. But Jody had very sincerely asked if he would be willing to act as a consultant for her newest project. Unfortunately, he couldn't even argue that he wasn’t qualified. He only had himself to blame for the proposal because at their last big family meal Ryland had let Rocky bait him into a rant about his accursed thesis paper.
So he was getting paid money to come up with semi-plausible explanations for the alien life and make sure dialogue changes didn’t contradict the established lore in Jody Moreno’s latest sci-fi thriller. A pretty sweet deal, all things considered. He got to hang out with his goofy brother and his cool sister-in-law, apply his knowledge to impossible situations in a new fun way, and stay in the very fancy staff accommodations for their remote filming locations.
Sure, he missed his apartment a little and his friends back in San Francisco a lot, but Rocky and Adrian were never more than a text away and Marissa had maintained their mandated friend dinners with a bit of timezone calculation and facetime. And it was just for the summer. He’d be back in time for the fall semester.
The biggest problem he’d had on set were the stars.
Ryland didn’t have his own trailer, so he mostly stowed away in Colt’s, which Colt only had because he was technically pulling double duty as Ryder’s double and a stunt coordinator. Colt would often pout about it because it meant that Ryland was missing him showing off, but if he wasn’t immune to puppy dog eyes, then he’d never survive being a teacher. If there were any stunts planned for the day, Ryland usually took his lunch at the same time. It was his best chance to get uninterrupted time because stuntwork rarely overlapped with the science rambles. Today he’d been lucky enough to catch Rocky and Adrian with free time for a video call.
“Rocky hate Mark.”
“He’s even worse in person.” Ryland groaned into his elbow from where he’d slumped onto the trailer's crappy fold-out table. “Like, Tom pre-rehab times ten.”
“Is Ryder behaving?” Adrian squeezed about half a tube of neon green hair dye into their mixing bowl on top of the about half a tube of neon blue hair dye already there.
Grace seesawed his hand in front of the screen. “I’ve mostly been avoiding him and Colt has been running a lot of interference so we’re not alone together.”
Adrian mixed their colorful goop into a brilliant turquoise. “Is he still carrying the torch?”
“I honestly can’t tell.” Ryland sighed and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Ever since he came out publicly he’s been flirting with anyone and everyone on set.” He was glad for Ryder. Genuinely, every time someone embraced their identity, the world became a better place. It just also meant that there was nowhere that Ryland was safe from his attention. “I think the casting director has it out for Jody or something. I’m not sure how both their big heads are supposed to fit on screen at the same time.”
Ryland smiled at the screen as his best friends laughed. Rocky accepted the bowl of hair dye from his spouse and began the familiar process of applying it to Adrian’s hair, both still shaking with mirth.
Someone knocked on the trailer door.
“Send pics of how it turns out.” Ryland shot a thumbs up at Rocky who answered with a thumbs down that made Ryland roll his eyes. He ended the call and got up to answer the door. “Colt’s not here right now, but I can take a message.”
Simon blinked up at him, the barest hint of a smile curling his lip. “Other way around I’m afraid. He sent me to get you.”
“I’m not that bad at directions.” Ryland grumbled, mostly to himself.
“How many times have you gotten lost on set before?” If Ryland didn’t know any better he’d think Simon’s question was completely innocent, but Colt had already infected the entire stunt team with tales of his directionally-challenged brother before Ryland had even agreed to work on the film.
“I don’t have to answer that!” He leveled a glare at Simon, but it was more for the principle of the thing than any real irritation. “Don’t you ever get tired of having to walk me places?”
The whole stunt team and several PAs had taken turns guiding Ryland to wherever he needed to be, but Simon had been commandeered for the job far more than anyone else on set. If Ryland was the hopeful type, he might think Simon was volunteering for it.
“It beats having to listen to Iplier bitch about how many scenes I’m in.” Simon shrugged and shoved his hand into the pocket of his tacticool cargo pants.
“Is he still on about that?” Ryland couldn’t remember what stunts had been planned for the day, but he almost wished he’d hung around to see Simon in action. Maybe he could still catch one. “Please tell me he’s not trying to convince Tucker he can do his own stunts again.”
“He’s kind of just graduated to complaining loudly about it a few feet away from him.”
“Blegh.”
Mark Iplier was a damn good actor. That was the only reason he was still on set despite his multitudinous demands and complaints about anything and everything he didn’t have complete control over. He and Tom Ryder were cut from the same cloth.
“I think he’s a few cold shoulders away from finding the VFX head and badgering them too.”
“He’s probably the most stubborn and petty person I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t you teach middle schoolers?”
“Yep!” Ryland was surprised Simon remembered that. “He’s worse.”
“Ouch.” Simon laughed and Ryland had to look down at his feet to make sure he didn't do something stupid like trip over his own shoelaces. Again. It was unfair how pretty Simon’s laugh was. “I think that might be the harshest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Oh, there’s more where that came from.” Ryland spoke before his brain kicked back into gear. Fudgcicles. Him and his big mouth.
Simon swung around to stop Ryland in his tracks, looking up at him through dark eyelashes and the beginnings of a smile twisting his lips. He was so close, Ryland would swear he could feel Simon’s breath against his lips. “You promise?”
Ryland was pretty sure he could fry an egg on his face with how hot he flushed.
“Ryland!” Colt clapped a hand down on his shoulder. “Hey, we wanted to run some physics questions by you before we run this stunt.”
Simon stepped back, face placid and posture loose because nothing ever seemed to actually bother him. Colt steered Ryland toward the rest of the stunts team, idly chatting about how well the last stunt had gone and how excited he was that Ryland would get to see the next one. Ryland had to wonder if anyone actually needed the physics of the scene checked or if they were humoring Colt’s need to show off. He was supposed to consult on the biology of the film, Dan Tucker, who literally designed the stunt from the ground up, probably knew more about the physics of it all than Ryland did.
Whatever. He could stand watching his brother vamp for however long it took; he’d already been doing it since he popped out twelve minutes after Colt.
Fabric brushed Ryland’s upper arm. Today was a rare cardiganless day for Ryland and he still forgot his NASA shirt had short sleeves. It wasn’t a problem, but it could be distracting at times. Like when Simon was walking close enough to him for his knotted empty sleeve to brush against Ryland’s arm. Colt’s hand was still on Ryland’s shoulder, but somehow that gentle brush of fabric felt heavier, more real, like it needed more of his brain power to process. Distracting.
They were doing a scene in the Anti-Gravity Room, a name Ryland couldn’t agree with but one that had stuck nonetheless. It was the life support chamber of the spaceship rigged to be able to rotate in any matter of positions. The sequence centered around the ship’s generated gravity malfunctioning, strengthening, weakening, and switching direction at random while the Head Engineer and Captain had to fix the device that controlled it. He remembered Mark and Tom filming their half last week, as the Head Engineer and Captain respectively. Ryland silently celebrated that he wouldn’t have to listen to either of them bicker about the other’s performance or correct their lines again. Now it was Simon and Colt’s turn.
If he remembered correctly, it took place right after the scene where the Head Engineer lost his prosthetic arm and toolbelt, which forced him to rely on the Captain who he barely trusted. The Captain had no ulterior motives, but often snapped at the standoffish Engineer who wasn’t supposed to question his orders. It was a bit of a forced proximity buddy cop deal, with a hefty dose of chasing the MacGuffin that was the Science Officer who had been locked in the ship’s lab with the secret to defeat the alien lifeform that had taken over the ship.
It meant that Simon had to change into the artfully singed uniform jacket and tattered tank top that the character wore. Which he did. Right there. Next to Ryland. Then the cosmetic team swarmed him to secure the broken prosthetic pieces to him.
Ryland tried to swallow the sudden excess spit in his mouth and nodded along with Dan’s explanation of the blocking and what motions they were going to use to film the scene. Apparently Simon was going to get thrown around a lot and Jody wanted him mic’ed up to get his genuine “efforts” during the stunt for the audio department to play with. Colt was getting similar treatment, but that wasn’t enough to stop Ryland from thinking about the kind of sounds Simon would make getting slammed into a wall. Probably a little gruff, with how deep his voice was. Maybe it’d get even deeper when the noise was punched out of him.
He had to stop thinking. Or just start thinking about the reason he was supposedly there in the first place. Physics. Calculations maybe. Nothing sexy about math. Well. that wasn’t entirely true, but Ryland really needed to get it together and focus.
The universe was torturing him.
Somehow he’d been parked next to the sound people. There was nothing wrong with them, of course, and they were far too focused on their work to bother with him. The problem was that after every take they played their audio back. And the tech checking Colt’s mic had headphones. But the tech checking Simon’s didn’t. So they were playing it all. Out loud. For some reason. Instead of getting headphones. Because the universe hated him. And Ryland couldn’t leave because he had no idea where else was safe for him to stay out of the way. He wasn’t going to be the reason a shot got ruined, especially with such an involved stunt happening.
Next time Ryland was going to tell Colt that the stunt team could figure out their own physics and leave him out of it. He clutched at the dented plastic water bottle a PA had given him ages ago. It was a delicate affair. There was nowhere for him to put it down, but he had to keep himself from crushing it or even making the plastic crinkle. He was literally right next to the sound people. As much as he wanted to scrunch the plastic into a mangled mess so he had literally any outlet for the energy buzzing under skin, Ryland was an adult and he could control himself. He would control himself.
They got all the shots they needed. It took hours.
When Jody called it, Ryland considered bolting, but he knew Colt would try to find him and he couldn’t risk getting lost again. Being walked everywhere had spoiled him into not actually paying attention to where he’d been walking.
Colt and Simon climbed out of the Anti-Gravity Room sweaty, panting, and with the smiles of men who were proud of the work they’d done. They unhooked their safety harnesses and water bottles were quickly delivered. Colt blew an overdramatic kiss to his wife before dashing off to check with Dan. Simon glanced over the crew and his gaze stopped on Ryland. Ryland didn’t want to be caught staring, but he couldn’t look away when Simon beamed at him, cheeks rosy from exertion and forehead shiny with sweat. Ryland wanted to know how far that blush went down his chest, wanted to chase that bead of sweat with his tongue, wanted to know if Simon would wear that same satisfied smile after sex.
The empty water bottle crunched in Ryland’s fists.
Simon was already walking toward him. Fudgcicles. Ryland had no idea what his face was doing, but that wasn’t stopping Simon. He was very lucky that nothing he did really seemed to phase Simon all that much. Maybe it came from the inherent insanity that was show business. A terribly awkward dork who couldn’t chill probably didn’t touch the top ten craziest things Simon had seen on set.
“Does seeing it in action make the Anti-Gravity Room any better?”
“It’s not anti-gravity, there’s no such thing as anti-gravity. It’s literally built to use gravity to get the effect.” Ryland had said as much before, to Simon even, but he was glad for the safe conversation topic. “Even if you could reverse gravity with the flip of a switch, you wouldn’t have anti-gravity. It’s just exerting a force in the opposite direction. That’s still gravity.”
Simon chuckled, somehow still amused by Ryland’s tired arguments. It was pointless, the name had already stuck. Listening to him complain about it was just another kindness Simon had shown him.
“Ryland! I’ve got your next pages for review.” Colt waved a chunk of script in the air from his place beside his wife. Jody smiled at him, besotted in the way both she and Colt had been basically from the moment they met. It made Ryland’s heart clench a little.
As much as all of his friends and family had assured him that he was perfectly capable, Ryland had never been able to maintain a serious romantic relationship. He’d gotten better about letting people in over the years, but most people he had were only in his life through their own stubbornness. Marissa had latched onto him in college and had refused to let him go, even though he hadn’t made it easy for her. Rocky had crashed into his life and made himself comfortable like they’d never been anything but the best of friends, with Adrian gently settling in right after him, and now Ryland couldn’t imagine going back to a life before him. He’d been lucky that Colt was his brother because they’d never have met if they weren’t related.
“Let’s hope you’re seeing it before the stars.” Simon shoved his hair back from his face, twisting it a little in an attempt to make it stay back without a clip or tie. Ryland’s bottle creaked under the flex of his fingers. Would it be inappropriate to offer to help? Could he even help? He thought about the stashes of hair ties in his cardigan pockets he’d started carrying when Adrian grew their hair out. “How long did Iplier bitch about the dialogue change last time?”
“I don’t know, I dropped my edits off and made a run for it.”
“Were the screenwriters giving you any trouble?” Simon’s brows furrowed.
“Oh no, they’re great. I just wanted to escape Tom before he asked me to privately run lines in his trailer.”
“Has he been bothering you?” If Simon had looked serious before, his expression took a turn into downright murderous for a moment.
“Not really.” Ryland watched him take in a purposefully deep breath and let it out slowly. He tried not to let himself think it meant anything special. Friends got protective over each other, right? “It’s not a big deal, but we hooked up a couple times years ago and he’s never let it go.”
“You and Ryder?”
“Yeah, got a problem with that?” Ryland felt his hackles rise. He really hoped he wasn’t about to find out Simon was a dick. Tom was supposed to be an outlier, not the standard guy he was into.
“He’s a dick! I mean, I get wanting to shut him up, but fuck. How did you not murder him?” Simon’s hand swung wildly through the air, the least controlled Ryland had ever seen him. “I know you have the patience of a Saint, but you don’t need to martyr yourself! No offense.”
“Some taken.” Ryland laughed, relieved and charmed and flustered in equal measure. “Believe it or not, he used to be worse actually. I dunno, a lot of people make mistakes in college.”
“And here I thought you were smarter than that.” Simon had gotten closer at some point. Ryland could see the individual baby hairs curling around Simon’s face and Ryland had to fight the urge to wind them around his fingers.
“Jody says she’s sorry, but I’m not sorry for showing her the clip.” Colt thrust the script pages at Ryland, who jerked in surprise and bumped his shoulder into Simon’s. His brother, well-aware of how often Ryland failed to notice what was happening around him, didn’t bother to mention it. Simon, if anything, seemed to lean even further into Ryland as their shoulders rested against each other.
“What does Jody have to be sorry about?” Ryland took the stack and started skimming the dialogue that had been highlighted for him to proof. He found it soon enough. “Coltland Lee Grace-Moreno, I cannot believe you!”
Simon tilted his head to the side. “I thought it was Seavers?”
“Stage name.” Ryland and Colt replied in unison.
“Wait, what’s the problem?” Simon somehow leaned even further into Grace to see what the fuss was about. “This is just Cap and Engie arguing again.”
“Oh, Simon you are in for a treat! It’s a tribute to why Ry is here on set with us.”
“I refuse to stand here and let you slander my name.” Ryland brandished the script at Colt like a weapon.
“It’s only slander if it’s not true.” Colt snorted. “What, are you saying it’s a bad line? You wanna walk it back?”
Ryland blew a raspberry at him. “I’m going to set Rocky loose in your house and you’re never going to find out what he’s done until it’s too late.”
“That’s an empty threat at best! Rocky would love seeing that immortalized on the big screen.” Ryland hated when Colt was right.
“Oh uh, I think costuming wants their clothes back, Colt.” Simon broke the standoff. “We’ll have to catch you later, Ryland. Maybe you can actually explain the issue.” Ryland wasn’t entirely sure how to read Simon’s expression. There was some teasing in it, but his gaze was heavy in a way that made Ryland think there was something else Simon wanted to talk about.
He should’ve asked someone for directions. Jody and Colt had both assured him it was okay for him to flag down a PA for anything, but Ryland hated distracting people from their work and the PAs always seemed busy. Maybe he could’ve waited for Colt and Simon to get back from changing, or even hung around Jody for a bit, but no Ryland just had to start walking. Talking about the UNESCO incident always made his skin buzz like he was still on that stage shaking from adrenaline. He’d had the urge to move and now it’d come back to bite him.
Tom friggin’ Ryder just had to find him standing in the lot of trailers and helplessly looking around in vain to find Colt’s trailer. He’d strolled out of his own trailer with that cocksure grin and drawled. “You come to visit me, love?”
Ryland had scoffed that he obviously was looking for Colt’’s trailer and started walking in a direction, anywhere to get away from Tom. Of course, once Ryder saw his opening he wasn’t going to let it go without a fight. Persistent jerk. He’d siddled up beside Ryland and started wheedling him about the script in his arms.
“Just a peak, love, you know I’ll see it eventually.”
“You’re not going to see it until it’s finalized, Tom, and that’s never gonna happen if you don’t leave me alone to check it.”
“Maybe we can run the lines, make sure they flow right, y’know?”
“I’m not going back to your trailer.”
“Well I could walk you back to Colt’s.” Ryland paused for too long. He’d just passed the exact same trailer for the third time and he was genuinely starting to feel a little desperate. Ryder caught up to him, slung an arm over his shoulders, and started directing him. “Maybe I could even stay a while.”
“Colt doesn’t want you in his trailer.” Ryland started walking faster as he recognized the next trailer.
Ryder caught him by the wrist before Ryland could step onto the stairs, gently backing him up to the side of the trailer. “He doesn’t have to know.”
Ryland rolled his eyes. “I’m not having sex with you in my brother’s trailer.”
“That’s not a no to sex, sweetheart.” Tom smiled like the cat that caught the canary. “I know the all best places on set love, just say the word and we can disappear.”
“I’m not entertaining this, Tom. We’re done.”
“Come on, Rylie.” The movie star leaned in close, ducking down to look up at Ryland over his drooping aviators and through his eyelashes. “We were good together, love. Let me be good for you again. You can’t tell me you haven’t been dying to be mean to someone.”
“If I really wanted to be mean, I’d call security on you for harassment.” Ryland kept the script held tight, but planted a hand on the middle of Ryder’s chest and pushed him back. Tom slumped forward with a grin, forcing Ryland to keep him up with that same hand. Always pushing boundaries. “There’s no need to be a brat about it.”
Tom shuddered out a shaky breath. “Come on, Rylie. Please.”
“Stop whining and go back to your trailer, Tom.”
“But I miss you.”
“You’ve survived this long just fine. I’m sure you’ll find a way to go on.”
“Rylie.”
“I think it’s time for you to move on Ryder.” Simon’s voice was sharper than a knife and as solid as stone. “He said no.”
Ryder, shameless as he was, didn’t even straighten up. He just turned his pout on Simon, as if that was going to work. “I’m happy to share him, just help me out here man.”
“Fuck that and fuck you. Ryland’s his own person. And. He. Said. No.” Simon put his hand beside Ryland’s and shoved Tom away. “Learn when to fuck off.”
“Whatever man, like you haven’t been following him around like a sad puppy. I’ll be around, if you need an upgrade, love.” Ryland watched as Tom pulled back into his movie star persona in real time. “You can even bring him along if you want. You know I’m good for it.” He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and turned on his heel, shimmery gold robe flaring out behind him.
“Are you okay?” Simon turned to him, scanning his body like Ryland might be injured. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to walk you.”
“What he does isn’t your fault, Simon, although that’s probably the most desperate I’ve ever seen him.” Ryland resettled his glasses on his nose. “Well, the most desperate I’ve seen him outside of sex.”
Simon made a strangled noise in his throat and the hand that had been hovering over Ryland’s shoulder clenched into a fist and dropped down to his side. “As long as you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” Ryland shot him a smile and stepped away from the trailer wall to head inside. “I appreciate the help, Si.”
“I hope I didn’t overstep or anything. I know you can handle yourself. He just, ugh, he pisses me off.”
“Oh, that’s very much by design. Tom’s always trying to get someone to put him in his place.” Ryland unlocked the door. “You coming up?” Simon was already nodding. “Where’s Colt?”
“Tucker wanted to try a new version of the Captain’s last stand, so they’re in the practice room.” Simon stepped into the trailer past Ryland, who had been holding the door open. Ryland bit his lip, eyes set on Simon’s broad back, and turned the lock slow enough that the click was barely audible. Back in his own clothes, Simon somehow looked even better than the costume designed to show him off. Maybe it was the way his shoulders weren’t as tense or the personality found in the patched up jeans and soft flannels. His hair fell loosely down to his shoulders. It’d obviously been combed back, but was already migrating forward to hang in front of Simon’s face. The stuntman tried to push it back again, but it didn’t even last thirty seconds.
Ryland sat back at the table he’d had lunch at and dropped the script. He stuck his hand into the pocket of his favorite fox cardigan. “I have a hair tie, if you need it out of your face.” It was hot pink, from a cheap multi-pack he’d grabbed at a drugstore.
“Would you mind doing it for me? My shoulder is kind of dying right now.”
“Of course.” Ryland tried not to sound too eager. He moved to stand up, pushing himself to the edge of his seat and wondering how long he could get away with running his fingers through Simon’s hair before it became suspicious.
Instead, Simon, casual as anything, strolled over, pivoted to face away, and dropped to his knees in front of Ryland. He tilted his head back far enough to meet Ryland’s gaze through his criminally beautiful eyelashes. “Is this okay?”
‘Yeah.” Ryland couldn’t tell if the word was even audible with how breathy it was. His eyes had no idea where to rest. Looking into Simon’s eyes felt too revealing. If he looked at Simon’s plush lips, he might do something impulsive and stupid and wonderful like leaning down and taking Simon’s breath away straight from the source. Anything other than Simon’s face was a different kind of dangerous because when faced with his obscenely wide shoulders and the long line of his throat, Ryland had trouble doing anything other than picturing his own thighs over those shoulders and his cock down that throat. Not even the handsome bridge of his nose, that had apparently been broken no less than three times with two instances happening in the same week, was safe because Ryland just wanted to drop a kiss there to see what face Simon would make. He focused on Simon’s hair. Not because it was free from similar distracting thoughts, he’d heard all sorts of fascinating noises from Simon today and was wondering just how hard he’d have to pull to hear a few more, but because putting it up was technically the reason Simon was this close. On the floor. On his knees.
Ryland smoothed his hand over Simon’s forehead to catch the stray hairs and push them back. Simon’s eyes closed and he somehow managed to both slump like every bit of tension in his body had disappeared and push up into Ryland’s hand like their skin was magnetized to each other. It made something flutter in Ryland’s chest, so entirely charmed by this man, and he couldn’t stop his smile if he wanted to. What a sweet man, what a precious thing under his hand. He wanted to take him apart.
He combed through Simon’s hair with his fingers, slowly shifting it into place. It was still slightly damp, probably from a post-stunt shower or maybe even from the sweat of the stunt itself. Was it strange to wish it was the latter? Idly, Ryland wondered if Simon would let him braid it, but for now he was going to savor the simple joy of sinking his fingers into the thick waves. He combed hair up from the nape of Simon’s neck, pressing his fingertips into the scalp on the upstroke. Simon, ever accommodating, let his head fall forward to give Ryland access with the ghost of a sigh, almost silent, but Ryland’s attention was wholly centered on this impossible miracle under his hands. Ryland hooked his index finger around a strand behind Simon’s ear, reaching farther than necessary to brush the delicate skin just under the hinge of Simon's jaw and trail upward back to the scalp. That got him a pleased little hum, that he swore he could feel in Simon’s throat. He combed through the hair at Simon’s crown, like how he might if he were trying to make the ponytail smooth, but applied the lightest scraping of fingernails to the scalp. Simon let out the tiniest pained grunt, deep and bitten-off, but it was enough to set Ryland on fire. He kept his hands moving, trying not to show how monumental the action felt and waiting to see if there would be any negative reaction or redirection. None came.
Ryland decided to up the ante. He lowered his hand to the base of Simon’s neck and slid his fingertips up into the hair until he’d basically palmed the back of Simon’s head, then curled his fingers gently, gently, so gently until he’d gathered a fistful of hair. Simon’s breath was still steady, his eyes were still closed, and his shoulders were still loose and relaxed. With the long hours and physical toil he dealt with, it was all too possible that Simon had drifted off right there. Ryland could fix that. He twisted his hand sharply to yank Simon’s head back.
Simon moaned, his handsome brow scrunched up and his pretty mouth hanging slack and his gorgeous eyes fluttering open to try and focus on Ryland.
“Aww, I’m sorry sweetheart.” Ryland cooed, slow and saccharine and not even the slightest bit sorry, down as Simon blinked to clear some the hazy look in his eyes. “Had to make sure you were still with me honey, didn’t want you drifting too far before I could ask you some important questions.”
“Questions?” Cheese and sprinkles, Ryland had barely done anything but Simon already sounded so wrecked.
“Yeah baby, I know it’s a bit hard to think when the world gets floaty, but I need to know you want this.”
“I do!” Simon nodded as much as he could through Ryland’s grip on his hair. “Want you so bad angel.”
“And what do you want me to do to you Simon?”
“Anything, anything you want. I’ll take it. I promise I’ll be good.”
“That’s a dangerous promise.” Ryland pushed his glasses up, studying Simon like there was a chance he wouldn’t jump this man. He was already stiff as a board. “You sure about that Simon?”
“Wanted you since I first saw you, Ryland. Whatever you want to give me, I’ll take it.”
Ryland had to push away many interesting ideas of what he’d like to do to Simon, mostly because they required a lot of very specific toys Ryland kept in a box at the back of his closet and he wasn’t sure how much time they had. He also knew he didn’t have lube and he certainly was not going to look for it in his brother’s trailer. If it was there, Ryland very much did not want to know and would’ve refused to use it on principle. There was also the very real chance that “anything” would be too much for Simon to start with. As much as he’d love to string the man up and systematically break down all his walls, Ryland needed to at least get a handle on the man’s tastes before diving into the deep end.
“Do you like my hands in your hair, Simon?” Simon nodded. Ryland flexed his fingers in a quick tug. “Use your words, pretty boy.”
“Yes, yes, I like your hands in my hair.” Simon whined, face flushing three shades redder.
“Good boy.” Ryland cupped Simon’s jaw with his free hand, feeling him shudder either from the words or the gentle touch. “When I ask you a question, you answer with your words. Am I understood?”
“Yes sir.”
Ryland let out his own little groan at that. Simon’s eyes zeroed in on him, clearer than they had been since this started. That was definitely going to be used against him. “If you need to stop at any point, what word are you going to use?”
“Eel.”
“Good.” He ran his fingernails down the side of Simon’s neck, just to see what happened. Simon’s breath stuttered, but he kept his eyes on Ryland’s face. “If you can’t speak but need to stop, you’re going to tap me twice. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes sir.” Simon’s hand shakily raised from his lap to reach behind him and find Ryland’s shin. He then gave it two quick slaps, firm enough to be felt through the denim of Ryland’s jeans and send sparks skittering up his spine.
“Such a smart boy.” Ryland praised, swiping his thumb in little arcs at the base of Simon’s throat, fingers drumming against his collarbone. “Tell me, honestly, when I told you I hooked up with Tom, what were you thinking?”
Simon’s face twisted back into that murderous glare. “Don’t wanna talk about him.”
“That’s not an answer.” Ryland pinched the meat of Simon’s shoulder in reprimand. “Good boys answer questions.”
“Hate that he had you first.” Simon whined, pitiful and pathetic. Ryland’s dick twitched in his jeans. “He doesn’t deserve you!”
“And do you deserve me?”
“Wanna deserve you. I can earn it, sir. I promise I’ll be good.” Simon gave him some of the biggest, wettest eyes he’d ever seen. He looked on the verge of tears. “Let me be good for you, please.”
Ryland clicked his tongue, feigning consideration. “Y’know, Tom said something similar earlier.” Simon growled, teeth bared and chest heaving as he worked himself up. Ryland laughed, probably far more endeared than he should’ve been. “Silly thing. I know this might be hard, but think about where you are right now Simon. Is Tom here?”
“No.”
“Is Tom the one on his knees for me with my hands in his hair?”
“No.”
“Is Tom the one getting to be my good boy right now?”
“No.”
“Then you’re not going to worry about Tom when we’re like this, and you’re not going to worry about him outside either. Do you understand, Simon?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good boy.” Ryland poured every ounce of fondness he could into his voice, moving both hands to pet Simon’s hair back and finally, finally, leaned forward to place a kiss on Simon’s forehead. Once again Simon pressed up into the touch, letting out a ragged gasp. “So sweet, so smart, so good for me.” He pulled back barely, just far enough to see Simon. “Do you have any questions for me before I help you shut that brain off?”
Simon opened his mouth, but bit off whatever he was about to say. Ryland let him think, watching the adorable way his brows drew together and he chewed on his bottom lip. “Can I have a kiss?” Ryland immediately set to kissing every inch of skin on Simon’s face, except where he was certain that Simon actually wanted his kiss. Simon whined weakly in protest, jutting his chin up to angle his mouth at Ryland better. It had to be straining his neck. Simon tried again. “Can I please kiss you?”
Ryland beamed, giving into the temptation to lay a dramatic smacking kiss on the crooked bridge of Simon’s nose with the most obnoxious “mwah” sound he could manage. Simon’s whole face seemed to scrunch up and the hulking mass of muscle and skill beneath Ryland giggled. Oh, Ryland really wanted to tuck this man into his pocket and take him home forever and ever. It was probably inappropriate to get cuteness aggression over a man who could definitely lift him up and break him in half. Well, that image led to inappropriate thoughts in the exact opposite direction. “Turn around to face me, honey.”
Simon shuffled away to give himself room to turn, then pressed himself into the space between Ryland’s legs until the edge of the built-in chair cut into his broad chest and Ryland could feel the stretch of his spread legs in his hips. He lifted his arm to drape it over as much of Ryland as he could, a line of warmth starting around his knee and wrapping around for Simon’s big hand to settle on the small of Ryland’s back. His face was still straining to reach Ryland’s. Ryland cupped Simon’s jaw, rubbing his thumbs over the cheekbones. He honestly hadn’t meant to stall, but apparently he spent too much time admiring the beauty between his palms.
“Please.”
As hungry as they both were for it, their first proper kiss was miraculously calm. Lips to lips, a soft slide with no room for even air between them. Then another and another and another until they were gasping into each other’s mouths, needing air but refusing to pull back. Simon lapped at Ryland’s lower lip and was rewarded with Ryland’s tongue in his mouth trying to map out the backs of his molars. When Simon wheezed into the kiss louder than the wet smacks and groans they had been swallowing, Ryland forced himself to put an entire inch of empty air between their mouths so they could both breathe something that wasn’t just the carbon dioxide from each other’s lungs. He took the chance to swipe drool from the corner of his own mouth with his thumb. When he moved to wipe it on the leg of his jeans, Simon lurched forward with a jerk that made Ryland freeze. The moment of hesitation was enough for Simon to catch Ryland’s spit-slick thumb and suck it into his own mouth. They both moaned.
“Fuck, Simon. You’re just starving for it huh, baby? Nothing in that pretty head but getting anything you can from me, am I right?” Simon hummed and did his best to nod without letting go of the thumb in his mouth. “Ah ah ah, what did I say about my questions?”
Simon pulled back with a pout. “I need to answer with my words.”
“See, you can be smart. We can’t have you going stupid before you even get my cock in you.” Simon let out the prettiest pleading whine Ryland had ever heard. “If you want something from me, you have to ask for it, Simon. I’m already being very nice by not punishing you for disobeying my rules.”
Simon buried his face in Ryland’s thigh, narrowly avoiding the increasingly uncomfortable tent at the crotch. He took several deep breaths that gave Ryland the joy of watching his back move with the force of his lungs expanding. Ryland couldn’t tell if the wet spot on his thigh was tears or drool, although he would be more than pleased with both options. “Two things.”
“Try again without my leg in the way, sweetheart.”
Simon turned to rest his cheek on Ryland’s thigh. “Two things. I really really really want your cock in me. And.” Simon swallowed thickly. “You don’t have to be nice.”
If the first thing made Ryland’s dick twitch, the second thing definitely made it pulse precum into the fabric of his boxers. “Do you want me to punish you for breaking the rules?”
“Yes sir, please. I wanna be good. I gotta earn it.” Ryland couldn’t tell if Simon was nodding again or just luxuriating in the contact by rubbing his face on the denim. He deliberated on what punishment would be fitting. It was a small slip, all things considered, but it was obvious that Simon didn’t want him to let things slide. The most obvious option was the classic slap to the face, but Simon still had to walk out of here and make it home. Ryland didn’t want to risk anything too visible. Spanking was a bit much for a first strike. Well, he could always make it match the crime.
“Okay Simon. I’m going to give you a reason not to answer my questions.” He shifted his hips forward and slid a hand back into Simon’s hair. “You wanna do the honors, honey?”
“Yes yes yes.” Simon’s hand was on Ryland’s zipper in less than a second. Ryland lifted his hips to help Simon shimmy his jeans down enough to entirely free him. “You’re so pretty.”
He was pretty sure Simon hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Intentional or not, Ryland’s dick twitched in the open air at the words. There was no telling if Ryland’s reaction to praise registered through Simon’s haze, but that would have to be a problem for later. “Open your mouth.” Simon’s mouth dropped open, tongue lolling out like the only red carpet Ryland ever wanted to be on. “I’m going to give you this and it’s okay if you choke, but if you need to stop you’re going to tap me. Show me what that looks like.” Simon’s hand thwapped against Ryland’s hip twice, momentarily disrupting the iron grip Simon had there. Ryland really hoped it would bruise. “Good boy. Deep breath.”
Simon’s mouth was hotter than Hell and felt better than Heaven. It took every ounce of control Ryland had not to shove himself deep and let go, but he’d gotten better at self-discipline since his years of loudly insulting his academic enemies to their faces. He fed Simon his cock slower than either of them wanted it, so he decided it also counted as part of the punishment. The main part of it was that he didn’t stop until Simon’s nose was brushing the curls of Ryland’s pubic hair. He had to steel himself as he felt Simon gag, but the warm hand stayed clamped to his hip. Simon asked for this, he was going to have to be the one who asked for it to stop.
When Simon had taken all that Ryland had to give, Ryland had to clench his eyes shut and start reciting as many digits of pi as he could remember off the top of his head. Almost an entire minute later he let himself look at the precious thing wrapped around his cock. Whatever tidiness he’d instilled in Simon’s hair had been thoroughly abandoned. He had to brush it back to see Simon’s glassy eyes blinking up at him, tears dripping down his ruddy cheeks. Ryland pulled back just enough to ensure that Simon could take a deep breath before easing into a shallow rhythm.
“Pretty boy.” Ryland gasped out. “Taking me so well, fucking made for it I bet. I bet you just love this, huh? Begged me to make you take it. Don’t wanna answer my questions because you’d rather have your mouth full. Never thought I’d see big bad Simon Butcher reduced to a cockdrunk slut. Just from a little kiss. You that easy for everyone, honey, or am I just special?” He let his mouth run, more focused on keeping himself still and forcing Simon to just hold him in the throat Ryland had been obsessing over. Apparently, he didn’t need to worry about whatever horny nonsense he was spewing because Simon just moaned around his mouthful and Ryland would’ve sworn he could see the individual atoms of the air around him. Far closer to the edge than he could reliably come back from, Ryland used his grip on Simon’s hair to pull him off.
Simon gasped wetly, drool and tears running down his face onto his neck. His chest heaved like he was cresting from a dive in the ocean. His hair curled wildly around his head like the world’s most sinful halo. His eyes flickered between Ryland’s cock and Ryland’s face like he couldn’t decide which one deserved his focus and Ryland felt so fond he could burst.
“Absolutely gorgeous.” As a tease, Ryland directed Simon back to his cock, but stopped right as the tip brushed against Simon’s bottom lip. The flushed red head smeared precum on the slightly swollen flesh. Simon’s tongue licked his lip then flicked up to catch the next drooling spurt from the slit. The combination of the sight and sensation made Ryland jerk. “Must be starving for it.”
Simon might have had a response, but he choked on it. And Ryland’s dick. Just for a moment. Before Ryland was pulling out and fucking back in again and again and again. Truly, Simon was taking it like a champ. Ryland had a delirious thought about giving the man one of the gold star stickers he occasionally slapped onto kids’ homework. Simon was getting a good grade in sucking dick, something both normal to want and possible to achieve. Fuck good, Simon was perfection incarnate on Ryland’s cock. Simon whined. Oh heck, was Ryland speaking out loud? He held Simon still just to feel him swallow around Ryland, each squeeze pushing Ryland closer to the inevitable edge.
Ryland pulled Simon off his cock.
“Aww, I know sweetheart.” Simon looked heartbroken. The tears helped with the effect, but the distressed groan he let out and the way he tugged against Ryland’s hold really sold the idea that he needed Ryland’s cock back in his mouth. Ryland guided his face to rest on his thigh again. “I know you want it bad, but you’re not the one in charge right now. Take a breather, baby.” Simon pouted, adorable, but didn’t move from where Ryland had put him even as the grip in his hair loosened and shifted to petting him. The view was worth everything it took to get here, hell, Ryland might even thank Tom the next time he saw him but Simon probably wouldn’t like that. Ryland probably shouldn’t have thought that was hot. He did want to cum down Simon’s throat. It was easy to imagine, making Simon swallow everything he had to give and then maybe getting his own hands or mouth on whatever Simon had.
The problem was that Ryland was having trouble imagining that someone as perfect as Simon would want this again, and Ryland wanted to experience as much of Simon as he could if he was never going to get it again.
“Ryland?” Simon’s voice was rough and Ryland’s dick might or might not have twitched very obviously at the sound.
“Yeah, honey?”
“Can I use my mouth on your thighs?”
If Ryland ever said no to that he needed to be put down, he was far too gone to be saved. “What a wonderful idea smart boy, you did such a good job asking. Go ahead.” It was possible that Simon had as much of an oral fixation as Ryland did. He decided to test a hypothesis. “If you want, you can even mark them up.”
Simon’s gaze went from unfocused to razor sharp and Ryland practically shouted out a moan as he got exactly what he’d suggested. So Simon did like the idea of leaving some kind of claim on Ryland. Maybe he could swing that into a repeat performance. He let himself enjoy the sharp pleasure of teeth soothed by lips and tongue for a handful of noisy moments. But he had a plan.
“Simon, take off your shirt.” For a moment, Simon scrambled at his buttons while still trying to sink his teeth into Ryland. Ryland huffed out a laugh before using the heel of his palm on Simon’s forehead to push him off. “Focus on one thing at a time, pretty boy. Not sure you can fit more than one thing into that empty head of yours right now.”
Simon leaned back, and his hand got to work on his red and black flannel. “Can I see you too? Please?”
“I just told you to focus honey.” Ryland chuckled, warmed by how earnest Simon’s voice was. He shifted and couldn’t smother his smile at the promising twinge he felt from the hip Simon had been holding onto. “I’ll tell you what, you can take my shirt off me once you’re finished with yours.”
Those strong fingers fumbled a button before somehow working even faster. Ryland sat back to watch the show. He had an idea of what he’d see. With an imagination as active as Ryland’s, it was impossible not to at least think about it. He expected the chest hair, the muscles, the mouth-watering expanse of skin. Apparently he should’ve expected more.
“Are you wearing a harness?”
“It’s a posture corrector.”
“Shut up, oh my god.” Ryland shoved the shirt off Simon’s shoulders and immediately ran his fingers over the leather straps looped around Simon’s arms. “How the heck do you keep getting hotter?” Simon laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his shoulders shaking under Ryland’s hands. Ryland felt a bit like his heart was being thrown around in his chest like Simon had been in the Anti-Gravity Room. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up pretty boy. Get up here.” He shoved his fingers under the straps and yanked Simon up.
“Holy shit!” Simon’s blush spilled down his neck and over his collarbones. Settled on Ryland’s lap he was taller and Ryland was on the perfect level to brush his lips over the edges of that lovely red tinge. He kissed up from the edge of the horizontal strap of Simon’s harness, pressing affection into the sensitive skin up his neck until he reached Simon’s ear. The groan he got for sucking the earlobe into his mouth, perfectly positioned to hear it punch out of Simon’s mouth as he was, would definitely be fueling fantasies for a while. Speaking of which, there was so much skin for him to get his hands on. Having the warmth and weight of Simon in his lap settled something in his chest. He pulled back with the slightest little tug from his pursed lips and pressed his face into the juncture of Simon’s neck and shoulder. Oh fuck, Simon definitely hadn’t showered after his stunt. Ryland gave up on the illusion of normalcy and sucked in a deep breath with his nose buried in Simon’s hairline. Simon’s arm wrapped around Ryland, sliding his hand into Ryland’s hair but he didn’t pull him away, just scratched at his scalp with a sweet little hum.
This man was designed by the universe to kill him. What a way to go.
“Do I still get to take your shirt off?”
“You just want more skin to sink your teeth into.” Ryland, a hypocrite to the very end, pressed his teeth to the side of Simon’s neck, not biting yet but promising the possibility. “The makeup artists would immediately notice any marks I left, wouldn’t they?”
“You could leave them anyway.” Simon’s fingers tightened in his hair and Ryland shuddered. “They’ve got like, professional grade foundation and shit.”
Ryland hummed and leaned back. “You make an excellent point, but I did cut you a deal and I am a man of my word. Unwrap your gift, honey.”
“You’re such a fucking dork.” Simon beamed at him and yanked Ryland into a kiss. That kept them occupied for a while. Ryland couldn’t remember the last time his lips had been so pleasantly sore. The hand in his hair splayed out down his neck, fingertips dipping under the collar of his t-shirt. It didn’t stay there, sweeping around to smooth down Ryland’s front and hook under the bottom hem. Ryland did help when it came to the shoulders, but that was more of an impatience thing than Simon actually needing assistance. When the shirt hit the floor, Simon placed his big warm hand over Ryland’s pec and squeezed. “What is a middle school teacher doing with all that?”
“Okay, smart ass, you wanna make that mouth useful or not?”
“Yes sir.” Simon started with a kiss on Ryland’s lips and worked his way under Ryland’s jaw. He laved his tongue over Ryland’s collarbone before biting down.
“Atta boy.” Ryland groaned, already planning on poking at the bruises the second he got home. “You’re so gorgeous like this, Simon.” He felt Simon’s answering little groan rumble through his chest. “Paint a pretty picture for me, will you? Wanna remember having such a good boy in my lap.”
“Fuck, Ryland.” Simon’s hips jerked and Ryland hissed at the feeling of denim against his dick.
“That’s another excellent idea, but we’re lacking some supplies sweetheart.” Ryland set his hands on Simon’s hip and pulled him even closer. “Maybe another time.”
Simon reared back. Ryland steadied him with hands on his back, more by instinct than anything else. His brain was almost entirely consumed by the sudden conviction that he’d crossed the line and ruined his chances. “Do you promise?”
“Promise?”
“Promise me we get a next time. Please, Ryland, let me take you out. I wanna listen to you talk about your kids and meet your friends back home and kiss you all the time.” Simon pushed Ryland’s glasses back up his nose, then cupped his jaw with a slightly shaky hand. “Let me be your good boy, please.”
Ryland lost his grasp on words for a moment. He crushed Simon to his chest, peppering kisses over all the skin he could reach. Genuinely, he might’ve been crying a little bit. He didn’t think he was the only one. “Yes, yes, of course.” Driven by impulse, Ryland pulled Simon’s head to the side by his hair and bit down. Hard.
“Thank you.” Simon placed his hand on the nape of Ryland’s neck, holding him there. “I’m gonna be so good for you.”
Ryland forced himself to disengage his jaw, running his tongue over the indent of his teeth. “You’ve already been perfect for me, dream come true right here in my lap. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.” He kissed the teeth mark. Simon sobbed in his arms. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you. You can let go.” They rocked together gently. He could tell Simon was still hard, he was too, but he was well-practiced in ignoring that to make sure his partner was okay. “Just breathe with me, sweetheart.”
In the space of a couple deep breaths, they moved from rocking to Ryland laying back on the chair with Simon on top of him. He moved one hand up and down Simon’s back in slow arcs. The other was buried back in Simon's hair because Ryland was nothing if not predictable. He’d transitioned from words to humming, well, he honestly had no idea what he was humming. It was probably a couple songs he was misremembering.
Simon pushed himself up to meet Ryland’s eyes. “I have a feeling you won’t accept an apology.”
“Got it in one Si. You never have to apologize for that. I want you to feel safe.” Ryland laid a kiss on Simon’s shoulder. “My good boy gets to cry whenever he wants.”
That got him an adorable shiver, Simon’s dark eyes still teary and face still beautifully flushed. “Yours?”
“For as long as you want to. I’m all yours honey.”
The kiss was slow. Crying did take a lot of energy. It was still hungry. Lips and tongue and teeth and enough spit to make everything slick. Perfect. Simon squirmed on top of him. His knee slipped and he pressed even closer to Ryland, most of his weight pressing his twitching hardness to Ryland’s hip.
“I have an idea, unless you wanna just ride my thigh until you get there.”
“Fuck, Ryland. The mouth on you.”
“I prefer it on you.”
Simon slumped forward, burying his face in Ryland’s chest with a snort. “Such a fucking dork.”
“Your dork now.”
“God help me.”
“You wanna hear my idea or not?”
“Yes, please.”
“Well, first I wanna see this.” Ryland snaked a hand down to squeeze Simon’s bulge. “Then we’re gonna see if you can wrap your stupidly big hand around both of us.”
“Yes, that, please.” Simon shoved himself upright. “Fuck, you’re a goddamn genius.”
“I know, sweet boy. I’ve got a doctorate.”
“Why is that hot?” Ryland laughed as Simon grumbled to himself while fumbling with his own fly. He let Simon figure it out, keeping a hand on Simon’s hip and letting the other wander up to thumb one of Simon’s nipples. “You are so distracting.”
“Oh, like you’re a pillar of upright behavior? I could’ve stood up to do your hair.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“So smart Simon.” Ryland cooed, voice dripping with condescension. “Doing everything but asking for what you want. Were you too focused on fantasizing about the end goal to ask like a big boy? Or did you just want to see how far you could push?”
Jeans and boxers shoved down to free his cock, Simon twitched in the open air. Ryland licked his lips. Of course, even here, especially here, Simon was gorgeous. And big. Shit. That was going to take some serious prep. Ryland couldn’t wait. He took Simon in hand, pumping from base to tip with a twist of the wrist on the upstroke. Simon was quiet. Speaking of which, he hadn’t gotten an answer.
“That was a question, Simon. You know what that means.” Simon had his arm flung over his face. Ryland took his hand back, earning a drawn out keen. “Words.”
“Wanted to make you forget about Ryder.” Ryland tilted his head to the side, curious. “I didn’t mean to push, just wanted to do something worth remembering.”
“Oh honey.” Ryland cooed with the sharpest smile he’d ever worn. “You wanted me so bad it made you look stupid.” Simon groaned and hid in his own elbow. Any annoyance was purely for show. He twitched against Ryland’s hip. “It’s okay if your head’s empty. You’re just too cute not to keep.” There was probably precum pooling on Ryland’s hip. Ryland reached up to take Simon’s hand, sitting up to shower Simon’s face in kisses. He ended it by smacking another obnoxious “mwah” onto the bridge of Simon’s nose to make him giggle again. Laying back, Ryland took Simon’s hand with him. He dotted a couple kisses on the knuckles before taking a moment to gather saliva on his tongue. It was not an ideal position to spit into Simon’s palm, so he settled for licking his palm. His other hand prodded at Simon’s hip to align them better.
After Simon’s hand was at least nominally damp, Ryland directed the hand to Simon’s dick. Simon cupped his palm at the tip to gather precum to smear down the length. He shifted in Ryland’s lap and readjusted his grip. They both groaned when they pressed together.
Ryland latched onto the center strap of Simon’s harness. “Okay, my good boy. You have one job: keep your hand moving until we’re both done.”
Simon was very good at taking direction. Remarkably excellent. No notes. When Ryland could see straight he was going to give him a very thorough performance review. They both were noisy, although Ryland was mostly babbling a mishmash of sweet nothings and absolute filth. He wouldn’t be able to quote himself later, but as long as Simon wasn’t complaining Ryland could not care if he tried.
Ryland came first. That was to be expected, Simon had gotten him close with his mouth. It was also likely that between the two, Ryland had a much longer dry streak. He shot off over his own chest and Simon dutifully worked him through it. From the wrecked look on his face, Simon very much enjoyed getting to watch Ryland fall apart.
“Come on, Simon, you’ve been so good. You earned it.” Simon was aware enough to release Ryland once he started wincing from overstimulation, focusing everything on his own pleasure for the last stretch under Ryland’s direction. “Be a good boy and mark me up.”
Simon whined, hips moving in aborted little thrusts as his hand kept moving and he painted Ryland’s stomach with streaks of white.
“Gorgeous.”
Ryland eased Simon back down, angling him to one side so that he wouldn’t drop into the puddle of their cum. It was already starting to get sticky. The position was awkward. Two people could fit on the built-in bench style chair, but achieving something close to laying down without hitting the table was almost impossible. Somehow, they managed.
“I really hope there are some wipes or something in here. If I wait too long to wipe this off, I’ll practically be waxing.”
Simon hummed consideringly at the words. Ryland didn’t try to parse an answer from it, just starting working himself up to actually look for something to clean. He didn’t make it far because Simon shoved him back down with a determined glint in his eyes. Ryland didn’t even get to ask what Simon was planning before he dipped down to clean up the mess with his own tongue. Once again, Ryland had no choice but to stare at the wonderful, impossible, perfect man. The kiss they shared included Ryland swallowing some of his own cum. It was a worthy sacrifice, especially if Simon was the one feeding it to him.
They slowly pieced themselves back together. Ryland checked his phone to see that Colt’s stunt rehearsal would run long because Jody wanted to do some camera tests at night to gauge the lighting conditions. Jody offered a couple people who could give him a ride back to his place if he didn’t want to wait. Simon’s phone reported that he was done for the day. With a moment taken to deliberate, Ryland texted Colt and Jody that Simon would give him a ride and wished them good luck with the trial run.
“Hey Si, what do you say about us heading back to my place, seeing what we can do about dinner, and maybe watching a movie?”
“Counter offer, we go to mine and I cook something while you do the script edits you were supposed to be doing. Then we can watch a movie or something.”
Ryland glanced at the script that lay on the table, just remembering it existed, and shot Simon a smile. “Perfect first date.”
“Well, I do aim to please.” Simon kissed him soft and slow.
Ryland broke the kiss with a groan, burying his face in Simon’s hair. Speaking of reminders. “Hey Si, if you didn’t shower after the costume check, what kept you so long?”
“Oh, Jody caught Colt and asked him if you’d seen the ‘waste of carbon’ line yet.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, you know Colt.” Unfortunately. “He was extremely honest and Jody said she’d take it out if you really were mad about it.”
“Did he explain to you what it meant?”
“Not really, like, not in a way that made sense.” Simon seesawed his hand in the air. “But uh, he might’ve shown me the clip he was talking about.”
Ice struck Ryland’s heart. “Fudgcicles.” Ryland slumped back dramatically, not moving far with Simon still resting half on top of him. “He’s probably shown half the crew by now.”
“It’s not that bad, Ryland. Honestly, it’s kind of reassuring.”
“How in the world is watching me crash my academic career reassuring?”
“It proves you’re human, I guess.” Simon propped his cheek on Ryland’s chest, a cautious smile tugging at his lip. “And it was a good line.”
“Well, at least someone appreciates my genius in my time.” Ryland sat forward to look at the script. “Let’s hope Mark doesn’t butcher it.”
“Well, it won’t be special to him, so who knows. He might try to leave it out entirely.”
“He does do that a lot, huh. Honestly, I wonder how Tom would take it?”
“What, you think he won’t be able to act it?”
Ryland chewed on his bottom lip. “If I tell you this, it cannot make it to anyone else.”
“I promise.” Simon offered his pinky finger. Ryland wrapped his pinky around Simon’s +.
“Tom was at that conference, I forget if it was a role or he was just kinda stalking me, but we hooked up for the first time that night because I needed an outlet and he got hard hearing me yell.”
Simon blinked once, twice, thrice. “Like, in the audience, he got hard?”
“Yeah, I caught him on my way out and the rest is history.”
“Is that why you didn’t want the line in the script?”
“It’s more the reminder of my infamous exit from academia, but I can’t say the Tom thing is a good memory. Mediocre at best.”
“That’s generous.”
“You can’t tell me I’m wrong about my own experiences, Si.”
“Sorry. I know that. I just, I don’t like it, don’t like him.”
“Hey, honey. You don’t have anything to worry about with him. Unless you have to work with him, act like he basically doesn’t exist to you. That’s what I’ve been doing.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good boy.”
“That’s not fair.”
“When did I ever promise to play fair, sweetheart?”
This was, in effect, the third act break-up, where the Captain and the Head Engineer would split up to try and find the Science Officer before it was too late. They’d been butting heads all movie, but this was the breaking point that would keep them apart until the very end when the Captain sacrificed himself, facing the alien threat while the Head Engineer and Science Officer made it out in an escape pod. Then the whole ship would go out with a bang, straight into the credits with a bittersweet but hopeful ending that left the possibility for a sequel.
Movie magic.
“You never listen to me!” Tom’s stance was wide, like he was bracing for a physical fight. He stabbed a finger in Mark’s direction. “My job is to make sure this ship runs smoothly and I cannot help people when your ego gets in the way!”
Mark sat at a workbench, not even looking at the other man. Instead he was focused on some device with its innards scattered across the table in front of him. His left arm wore a skin-tight blue sleeve sprouting from the mangled metallic mass on his shoulder. “Yeah well, my job is to make sure this ship runs. I can’t do that if I have to do everything with you bitching over my shoulder.”
“You can’t even get into the lab without my authorization!”
“Maybe that’s what you wanted, but I actually know what I’m doing.” Mark coiled a length of plastic cord and tucked it into the hollow shell of the device on the table, then he clicked a plastic panel into place and the whole crew collectively imagined a beep. He hefted the complete device up to show Tom. “I don’t need you.”
“I am your captain!”
“You’re a staggering waste of carbon.” Mark shoved past Tom. It was scripted. Tom was supposed to try and grab the Head Engineer on his way out, so they could share one last charged look before the next scene started.
Instead, Tom froze. He blushed fluorescent red. He called out, as if he had the power to do so, a quick “cut!” and bolted from the set.
“Okay, I’ll admit that was pretty funny.” Ryland watched Tom go, chin hooked over Simon’s shoulder.
Simon turned his head to kiss Ryland’s cheek. “At least someone appreciates my genius in my time.”