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“You don’t want me,” Joe says, and somehow makes it sound like a question.
“No,” Ryan says. “No, I mean-”
Joe raises an eyebrow. Most of the time Ryan gets himself into trouble because his mind is racing twice as fast as his mouth can keep up with, so he doesn’t have time to check that anyone is actually following him. Right now, though, he can’t put together a full sentence to save his life.
What the hell?
This feels like it might be another one of Joe’s weird tests, like he has an angle that Ryan isn’t going to see until it’s too late. Ryan can’t see past him, literally, his shoulders are a mile wide. For want of a better idea, he tries to narrow down the question into one line, a simple boolean variable; if, else. True, false. Want, or not-want.
Joe’s eyes are dark and patient, like a predator’s. His mouth is very pink. Somehow Ryan’s backed himself into a wall, and Joe is leaning over him, now, towering, one of his enormous hands braced against the wall behind Ryan’s shoulder. If it weren’t for that Ryan wouldn’t be tall enough to reach his mouth, actually- as it is he’s sort of standing on his toes- which is crazy. This is crazy.
Joe’s lips are really, really soft. Ryan’s never kissed a man before, obviously, and he’s not sure what he was expecting, but Joe’s lips are soft, and he brings his other hand up to cup and draw him closer. His beard is sort of ticklish against Ryan’s face. He smells like the ocean, still, somehow, even though it’s gotta be pushing fifteen hours since he got back from the beach this morning. Ryan had sat up on the couch and watched him pad across the apartment, barefoot and shirtless, to drape the wetsuit over the balcony. Ryan doesn’t mean to sleep over so often, he really doesn’t, and he can’t tell if Joe minds or not. He never knows what Joe is thinking, actually.
"Wait,” Ryan blurts out. “Um. What?"
Joe raises an eyebrow. Ryan tries again. "I'm not- I don't-"
“You don’t,” Joe repeats slowly, and he’s making an odd face, and he drops Ryan’s chin and moves to skim up the hem of his shirt, sliding his hand up Ryan’s side.
“Joe, what are you doing-” His other hand has followed the first under Ryan’s shirt now too, somehow, and when he traces a semicircle with one thumb Ryan shivers involuntarily. It tickles, maybe.
“What do you want me to do,” Joe says, and in that way of his he makes it sound like it’s not a question, which is good because Ryan doesn’t have any answers right now. Joe's hands are huge, and warm, and Ryan can't breathe. His pulse thuds, accelerating, and he can't breathe. His head is spinning, the same way it always does when he thinks about Joe too hard, only ten times worse than usual. Ryan feels like he's blinking too much. Joe’s eyes are steady on him.
Stop touching me so I can think for a second. But will saying that make him sound crazy? He feels crazy. He thinks about the man who was here, the other week, and whether Joe had touched him like this, too, under his clothes. The guy had seemed young, sort of, and Ryan wonders if Joe sees them as being alike in some way. Ryan isn’t sure how he feels about that. He is sure how he feels about Joe’s hands on him- he likes that, likes the way it feels, even though his face is flushing hot from the feeling of being- on the spot, sort of. Joe’s watching him so closely. But that’s the thing about Joe, isn’t it, why he’s different from anyone Ryan has ever known. He looks at Ryan and sees him, he listens to Ryan and actually understands what he’s talking about.
Maybe there are two main things here- one of them is the obvious, what does it mean if Ryan is letting a man touch him like this, if he likes it, what does that mean about him? What would his roommates- or, Jesus, his parents- or anybody say if they could see? But the other thing, maybe the bigger thing, is that this isn’t just some man. This is Joe, who is probably the only person on Earth whose judgment Ryan actually gives a damn about.
“Ryan.”
“What?”
“I’ve never known you to be this quiet. Tell me. What do you want? The real answer. This isn’t a test.”
Ryan scans his face again. He doesn’t look like he’s lying, for whatever that’s worth. Ryan licks his lips and tells the truth. “I want- whatever you want.”
God, that sounds stupid, Ryan thinks, as he feels the bottom sort of drop out of his stomach.
“Are you sure?” Joe says, but he’s grinning, so either he’s laughing at Ryan or that was the right answer.
“Yeah,” Ryan says, and he almost repeats himself just to be sure, but Joe’s mouth cuts him off.
---
Ryan feels kind of dazed, to be honest. He doesn’t know how he ended up standing here butt naked in the middle of the living room. Joe’s still completely dressed; the only thing that changed is that he’s rolled up the sleeves of his grey sweater-thing- he’s wearing the same white pants he always wears. Focusing on the facts, observing the facts- it was late evening when they started, and now it’s totally dark outside- and cataloguing facts is helping, but the upshot is that it’s a good thing Joe had gotten his pants off, actually, because ten minutes ago when Joe had sort of laid his giant hand- just barely pressing- and spanned the whole length of the zipper of Ryan’s jeans, Ryan had almost- anyway.
Facts. It’s a Wednesday. It’s a Wednesday and Joe Macmillan- the Joe Macmillan, of Macmillan Utility- is kissing him. That’s a fact. It’s Wednesday, July 16th, nineteen eighty-six, and it feels like the kissing has been going on for a really long time? Which is fine, better than fine. Which is awesome. But Ryan wonders, suddenly, if there’s something more he ought to be doing- with his hands, maybe? He pulls back a little, just to check.
“Joe?”
“Mm,” Joe says, and moves his mouth to Ryan’s neck. Oh.
“Ohhh,” Ryan hears himself say. His voice sounds really far away.
“Oh?” Joe echoes, and moves to mouth at the other side, tugging gently at Ryan’s hair until he tips his head, and then biting at the exposed skin. Like a vampire, Ryan thinks nonsensically, and then he stops thinking in words at all.
“ Ohhh . Oh my god.”
By the time Joe is done with that, Ryan is panting, lightheaded even. He feels a little worried that he might fall down, actually.
“Steady,” Joe says, and puts his hands back at Ryan’s waist. “Are you still with me? Seems like you like that- is that fair to say?”
Joe sounds so… calm . Thoughtful. It’s almost the same tone of voice from that 2.0 presentation, a million years ago. Ryan feels self-conscious.
“Yeah, I guess. Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I liked it.”
“Good,” Joe says. “I’m glad. I’d like to try something else, if you’re game?”
Ryan nods, and just like that Joe’s sliding smoothly to his knees. Ryan’s confusion must show on his face, because Joe looks up and tilts his head. “Has a man never done this for you before?”
Ryan splutters. “What? No!” Does Joe really think Ryan’s- that he goes around doing- “I don’t. This kind of thing-”
“Really?” Joe says. “Not even with a woman?”
Ryan shakes his head. He’s been with girls, yeah, and he knows this is a thing people do, with girls, but none of them had ever offered and Ryan had never asked. The idea is weird, a little. It doesn’t seem like it would taste good.
“Ryan,” Joe says.
“What?”
“You can say no. This isn’t- I’m not trying to trick you. I won’t be upset if you want to stop.”
“No. No, I mean-” Ryan swallows. “Yes.”
Joe smiles- not too wide, just a little smile, and he looks Ryan in the eyes like they’re both in on a joke. There’s a warmth spreading out from the pit of Ryan’s stomach, into his chest and the tips of his fingers. He smiles back.
Joe’s mouth on him is- his first few thoughts are inane. It’s really warm, it’s really wet, it feels okay- it feels good. He looks down to see Joe’s eyes glinting up at him, like he’s amused. Like he’s having fun. This feels good, but Ryan wants- he feels needy, itchy, he’s trying to be still because it’d be rude, wouldn’t it? But after two or three long minutes Joe kind of swallows around him and Ryan can’t help it. His hips twitch forward, just a little, and come to find out this was another test, because Joe somehow manages to grin with his mouth full and then he starts to move and oh . That’s different.
This isn’t weird at all, Ryan was wrong. This is- this is good, actually. This feels even better than Joe’s mouth on his neck, which if you’d asked him half an hour ago he would’ve said was impossible. Joe’s hands are roaming his skin, hot and electric, and Ryan is totally overwhelmed. He can’t do anything but babble.
“Oh. Oh, my god. Oh my god- Joe- Joe- Oh my god. Ohhh .”
Joe pulls off, and when he does his mouth makes sort of a popping sound. Ryan bites the inside of his cheek. Joe’s mouth is dark red, looks swollen, and Ryan wants to kiss him again. Part of Ryan (one specific part, actually (his dick)) is panicking, wants to tell Joe not to stop, please- Ryan squashes that down. He tries to breathe. Look normal.
“How are we doing?” Joe asks, making a loose fist around Ryan’s dick with one hand.
“Good- um, good,” Ryan says.
“Yeah? Tell me. How’s it feel?”
“Uh. Nice? It feels… really nice.” Joe laughs.
“What,” Ryan starts, not sure if he should be offended or not.
“No, no, no,” Joe says, and smacks a kiss onto the skin just above Ryan’s hipbone. “I’m not laughing at you. I just- you are a treasure. Do you know that, Ryan?”
“Um, okay,” Ryan says, not even trying to examine what Joe is getting at. “Can you-”
“Yeah, okay,” Joe says pleasantly. This time as he sinks down around Ryan’s cock he moves a hand to cup Ryan’s balls, gently, and oh .
“Oh, my god,” Ryan says urgently, tipping his head back until it hits the wall. “Joe, oh my god. You might want to- god, shit, I’m gonna-” but he glances down and Joe’s sort of nodding encouragingly, like it’s okay. Ryan knows that look- that’s the look that means he’s doing something right, for once.
He comes so hard he sort of blacks out for a second. When he opens his eyes Joe’s wiping his mouth with one hand. Ryan makes a face.
“Isn’t that, like, really gross?” he blurts without thinking. “Sorry. I mean. Thank you?”
Joe throws his head back and whoops with laughter.
“Sorry,” Ryan says again, feeling it.
“No,” Joe says. “You’re right, I guess. It’s just a habit. Less mess this way.”
“Okay,” Ryan says, thinking about how many times you have to do something before it counts as a habit.
“Come to bed, will you?” Ryan nods and then has to rush to follow as Joe catapults to his feet and bounds toward the bedroom, shedding articles of clothing behind him. Ryan looks at his back and shoulders and thinks about that day, by the bridge. He wants to know where the scars on Joe’s chest came from, but something tells him not to ask now. For now he’s going to try and be quiet- really try- so he can focus on trying to figure out what Joe wants. Joe guides him, gently, by touch, until Ryan is laid out across the bed.
“Nice sheets,” Ryan says- he didn’t mean to say that aloud, he’s trying to be quiet, but Joe smiles and kisses him softly, so he can’t be that annoyed. Ryan can taste himself on Joe’s tongue, and somehow that’s less gross than it sounds.
“You are gorgeous ,” Joe whispers into his mouth. Ryan doesn’t know what to say to that, but his mouth makes some weird sound anyway. He can’t be self-conscious anymore, though, he’s just warm all over, and Joe’s mattress is really nice quality, Ryan can tell, and Joe’s mouth is still really soft. Everything feels sort of lazy and heavy in a good way, like being day drunk in the summer, only it’s night, and the lights in Joe’s room are low. Ryan closes his eyes.
---
When he opens his eyes it takes him a second to figure out where he is. Over the past few months he’s crashed on one occasion or another in basically every corner of this apartment except here, in Joe’s giant bed. Here he is, though, and it’s morning, and he’s naked in Joe’s bed. And Joe?
Suddenly the facts of the situation wash over him, and Ryan feels sick to his stomach, a little. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, and if there was anything Joe had brought him into his bedroom for that wasn’t it. Joe had been laughing at him already, not believing how totally unprepared Ryan was for this scenario, and then Ryan had gone and conked out without even touching him.
It was kind of Joe, actually, to go out surfing and give Ryan a chance to sneak out without embarrassing himself any further. It’s bad enough stepping out into the wide open living room to retrieve his clothes and his bag, without Joe there watching and judging and regretting, probably.
What were you thinking? Ryan asks himself as he walks to his car. He sticks the key in the ignition and sees the key Joe’d given him- just so he could let himself in and get started on work if Joe was out or had to go into the office for a meeting or something- but he’s probably going to want that back, now. Shit. Goddamnit. Shit, shit, shit.