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Based on his internal clock and the way the early summer sunlight filtering through the thin curtains is slowly growing gray and colorless, Ryan thinks that they have approximately an hour, maybe an hour and a half at the most, before they have to actually head out to the latest site they’re investigating, which is an abandoned coal mining town deep in the heart of Pennsylvania. There’s at least half a dozen different things that they should be doing to prepare for the shoot; they should be packing, should be checking to make sure they have everything they need, should be reviewing the script and the overall plan for the night.
But all of that is going to have to wait a little longer, because there’s no way in hell Ryan is going to put an end to what they’re actually doing, not until he absolutely has to.
His arms are extended above his head, and his fingers are curled around the edge of the mattress, pressed up against the unyielding wooden line of the headboard. His shirt has been resting on the floor for at least fifteen minutes now, and Shane is kneeling in between his legs, busy with dragging his mouth down Ryan’s ribs. His fingers are firmly splayed across Ryan’s still-clothed thighs, pressing him down against the mattress, and Ryan itches with the want to do something, to shove his fingers through Shane’s hair, to kiss him, to drag their hips together.
But it’s not time for that yet.
The room is quiet; they’re lucky enough to have not ended up with any noisy neighbors, and there’s minimal traffic outside, which means he can hear every individual kiss that Shane presses against his skin, can hear the rasp of Shane’s jeans brushing against the sheets as he slides further down the mattress, can hear his own rapid breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears. Combined with the feeling of Shane’s fingertips digging into his thighs and his teeth gently scraping down Ryan’s chest, it’s almost too much, too visceral, too real.
He knew when he asked Shane if they could try this that it was going to be an entirely new kind of experience, but this is downright torturous, and Shane hasn't even taken his pants off yet.
“You doing alright up there?” Shane asks, glancing up as he lowers his mouth to Ryan’s hipbone and starts working a bruise into his skin. Ryan’s breathing kicks up another notch, and he nods and flexes his fingers against the mattress.
“Green,” he gasps, barely able to recognize his own voice. “So fucking green.”
“Okay.” Shane presses a soft kiss to the throbbing hickey he’s created before he drags his mouth across Ryan’s stomach, right above the waistband of his jeans, and starts working on another bruise to mirror the first. Ryan closes his eyes, forces himself not to arch up into the touch, which is just on the right side of painful.
Shane lingers there for what feels like an eternity before he sits back on his knees. Ryan takes a breath in anticipation, sure that the next touch he’ll feel will be Shane’s long fingers dragging down his zipper. Instead, Shane’s hands smooth up his sides, firm enough to not be ticklish, and he lowers his head again and starts kissing his way up the inside of Ryan’s arm. It’s a totally unfamiliar sensation; Ryan doesn’t know if he’s ever been touched there by someone else, and he can feel his muscles twitching as Shane continues up towards his elbow. He’s so close, close enough that all it would take to kiss him is for Ryan to turn his head sideways and lean a little bit forward.
He doesn’t realize that he’s moved to do exactly that until Shane stops him by firmly grasping his chin between his thumb and forefinger and turning his head back to face the ceiling.
“What’s the one rule we have?” he asks. His voice is a little too soft to be truly chastising, but seeing as this is the first time they’ve ever done anything like this, the first time either of them has been in total control, Ryan doesn’t hold it against him. Softness or not, there’s no denying that the way Shane is staring down at him, eyes dark, fingers firm on his chin, is almost absurdly hot, and he swallows heavily, dick straining against his jeans, before he answers.
“I’m not allowed to move.”
“Right,” Shane says with a slight nod. “Not until you do what?”
Ryan swallows again and tries, unsuccessfully, to slow his breathing down. “Not until I beg for it.”
“Good boy,” Shane murmurs, and oh, Ryan’s not likely to forget the sound of that anytime soon. His thumb slides up an inch and presses into Ryan’s slack bottom lip, and it takes all the self-control Ryan has not to suck it into his mouth. “Hold still.” With that, he ducks his head back to the side and returns to working his way up Ryan’s arm, all the way to where his fingers disappear into the small space between the mattress and the headboard. Ryan closes his eyes as Shane switches to the other side, chest heaving. It turns out to almost be a mistake; unexpectedly, after Shane presses a firm kiss to the top of his wrist, he follows it up with a softer one right underneath the hinge of Ryan’s jaw, right above his throbbing pulse.
Ryan almost breaks. He almost lets go of the mattress, almost surges upward, almost opens his mouth to beg Shane to please fucking touch him.
Almost.
He just barely manages to reel himself in, so that what does leave his mouth is nothing more than a gasped curse.
“Look at me,” Shane says, firm enough for it to be a demand, not a question. Ryan slowly flicks his eyes open to find Shane hovering over him again, unbearably close, close enough for Ryan to feel his breath against his mouth. “You still good?”
Ryan just nods because, frankly, he’s not sure if he trusts himself to open his mouth at this point. Absently, he wonders if he looks as wrecked as he feels, because Shane’s mouth turns up into a small smirk as he runs his hands down back down Ryan’s arms to his chest.
“Guess I’ll just have to try harder,” he mutters, pressing another kiss to Ryan’s jaw before he slides back down the bed, and Ryan’s stomach flutters in anticipation. He expects more teasing, expects for Shane to entirely retrace his steps again, but instead, he drops his hands to Ryan’s pants and makes short work of his button and zipper. He doesn’t waste any time in stripping both his jeans and boxers off and dropping them onto the floor, and Ryan curls his toes against the mattress as the air conditioning brushes over his newly exposed skin.
Thankfully, the chill doesn’t last long.
Shane starts working his way up Ryan’s legs, starting at the bend of his knee, half-hanging off the edge of the bed in order to do so. His palms smooth back up Ryan’s thighs to rest on his hips again, and he uses his shoulders to nudge Ryan’s legs further apart as he moves further up, mouth dragging up the inside of his thigh, two days’ worth of stubble scraping against his skin.
Ryan takes a deep breath through his nose and flexes his fingers again. Shane’s so goddamn close to where he wants him to be; whenever he shifts, Ryan can feel the soft fabric of his shirt brush against his cock. It’s not nearly enough friction, but every slight touch makes sparks shoot through his nerves, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.
He can hold off a little longer.
Once Shane’s traced his way up the inside of both of Ryan’s thighs, marked the skin with a handful of bruises that Ryan’s sure he’s going to feel for the rest of the night, he drops his forehead to rest on Ryan’s stomach. His thumbs slowly trace over the creases where Ryan’s hips meet his thighs, over and over again, but he otherwise remains still. He’s so goddamn close to Ryan’s dick that he can feel Shane’s warm breath brushing over him, but there’s no actual contact. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this damn hard in his life, and it aches, and every breath that Shane expels from his mouth only makes things more unbearable.
It’s just not enough.
“Please.”
It leaves his mouth as a quiet whimper, quiet enough that, for a few moments, he thinks that Shane didn’t hear it. However, after a second, he glances up, pupils wide and blown, one eyebrow quirked, and asks, voice lower than Ryan has ever heard it, “Did you want something, Ryan?”
The floodgates break.
“Please,” Ryan gasps, just barely managing to keep hold of the mattress. “Please, Shane, I need you to touch me, need to touch you, just fucking please.” The words leave his mouth in a rushed jumble, barely understandable even to himself. Shane doesn’t say anything right away; he just stays between Ryan’s legs, staring up at him, thumbs now tracing circles on Ryan’s hipbones. He shifts just the slightest, drops down just far enough for his chest to put pressure on Ryan’s dick, and a groan of frustration that almost edges into a sob punches from Ryan’s mouth. “C’mon, man, please.”
“Alright,” Shane rasps, clearing his throat and pressing another firm kiss to Ryan’s stomach, just above the head of his dick. “You can move.”
Ryan immediately lets go of the mattress, wraps his sore fingers into Shane’s shirt and roughly hauls him up into a messy kiss. Their teeth momentarily clack together, and Ryan winces before they slot together perfectly. Shane’s long fingers wrap around him, and Ryan buries a groan into Shane’s mouth as he reaches down to fumble with Shane’s belt. It seems to take ages for it to finally click free, but once it does, he wastes no time in yanking at the button and zipper and shoving his hand inside.
“Fuck,” Shane gasps, hips jerking forward into Ryan’s loose grip, mouth smearing up Ryan’s cheekbone and down to his throat. His hand starts moving faster, and Ryan can already feel his orgasm building, knows that he isn’t going to last long.
What’s surprising is that, mere moments after he comes over his own stomach, free hand curled tight around Shane’s shoulder, Shane follows suit with a bitten-off groan.
Once they’ve both come down, Shane slides over so that he’s resting on his stomach at Ryan’s side, one lanky leg dangling off the edge of the mattress. Absently, he wipes his hand off on the sheets, and Ryan does the same.
“How are you doing?” he asks, nudging Ryan’s shoulder with his own. “Was that too much?” Ryan shakes his head adamantly; he’s still trying to catch his breath, so he takes a moment to answer.
“No.” Turning his head away from the ceiling so that he can look at Shane, he continues, “That was fucking incredible, dude.”
“Yeah?” Reaching down and linking their fingers together, Shane asks, grin spreading across his face, “So you maybe wanna do it again sometime?”
Ryan laughs and leans forward to press his mouth to Shane’s temple.
“Definitely.” Flexing the fingers of his free hand to work out some of the residual stiffness, a thought pops into his head. It’s an idea he’s had before, one that he’s been waiting to bring up, but now seems like as good a time as any. “Maybe you should tie me up next time. My hands kind of hurt.”
Shane glances up at him for a moment, probably to see if he’s joking, but Ryan doesn’t laugh, and Shane groans and shifts over, until he’s half on top of Ryan again.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, tilting his head up to catch Ryan’s mouth in a kiss. “We can definitely do that.”
&.
In the end, by the time they quickly shower, pack, strip the bed and make a stop at the nearest gas station for snacks, they’re running an hour late, which means that they’re going to have to shoot some of the establishing shots in the morning, after the sun is up.
It’s a little inconvenient, sure, but Ryan doesn’t regret a thing.