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Entry tags:
- bob/ryan,
- fic,
- mcr,
- movieverse,
- p!atd
Birthday Fic: Paisley and Xbox (Bob/Ryan, Movie'verse)
So! It's ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dancinbutterfly's birthday and you know that that means? Yes. Porn. Yes, I know I am SO predictable. Rach honey, don't get excited, I'm afraid you have ALREADY read this ficlet, but I never posted it and I didn't have anything fresh baked for you for your birthday (OMG BBB HELL OMG) but I couldn't let your big day pass without SOME kind of porntastic acknowledgement!
So! Here is some Bob/Ryan domestic!bliss sleepy-sex fic set in my Movie'verse what I wrote just for you *cough*lastyear*cough*. Hopefully it will be just as fun on it's second read.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BB. ALL THE HUGS.
Fandom: Bandom - MCR & P!ATD
Title: Paisley and Xbox
Pairing: Bob/Ryan
Length: ~2000 words
A/N: Huge thanks tomistresscurvy for taking up excellent last minute beta duties. I owe you one, feel free to collect whenever you like!
Summary: Ryan's first morning back in LA.
Paisley and Xbox
Ryan's awake before he opens his eyes. He's warm and comfortable and when he tilts his head into the pillow there's the rough scrape of Bob's beard at the back of his neck, his breath hot behind Ryan's ears. Ryan's lips curve into a smile as his eyes flutter open.
It takes a moment for him to orient himself. The room is larger than he's used to, the sheets on the bed a dark grey and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. The bed side table has a handful of coins, a cigarette lighter and small stack of CD's balanced precariously on its surface. There's a coil of cables and an old computer monitor on the battered desk against the wall. A haphazard pile of clothes and shoes lies on the floor by the bed, a tangle of what he and Bob were wearing last night. His suitcase stands by the door, untouched.
He should be jetlagged as fuck. It's probably ouch o'clock in Australia, but he's wide awake. He tries to stay still, not wake Bob, but he's fidgety and Bob's wrapped around him so tightly his arms shift whenever Ryan takes a breath so it's a lost cause. He knows he's woken Bob when Bob brushes his warm lips and beard across the sensitive skin of his nape.
"Go back to sleep." Bob's voice is gruff and low.
Ryan hums, not a yes, not a no. He stretches a little and it rubs him up against Bob, his back pushing into Bob's chest, his ass sliding against the wiry hairs at Bob's crotch. Bob makes a noise low in his throat and it rumbles against Ryan's back.
"You keep doing that and we're not going back to sleep."
Ryan does it again, pushing back more, grinding his ass into Bob. He's rewarded with Bob's shaky intake of breath and then Bob's mouth opens on the back of his neck, hot and wet. Ryan purrs and rolls back against Bob, nowhere near sleepy anymore as Bob's hand traces down his ribcage, over his belly, pressing warm and heavy over his hardening cock. He makes an approving noise that ends in a whine as he pushes his hips into Bob's grip. The movement lets a rush of warm air between his ass and Bob's crotch;, he reaches into the space, slipping his hand between their bodies to find Bob's dick.
There's a satisfying grunt from Bob when Ryan finds his grip and a similar one from Ryan, higher in pitch, when Bob's fingers curl around Ryan, hard and ready.
When they start to move it's slow and lazy. They don't have anywhere to be, meetings to make, screenings to attend. They can take their time, so they do. Bob traces his tongue over the shell of Ryan's ear and Ryan presses back against him, arching his back and rolling his hips into Bob's hand. His dick slicks up with precome and Bob's hand slides easier. Ryan's arm is at a weird angle, twisted behind his back, but his hold is sure and Bob's making encouraging noises as they stroke each other in a lazy shared rhythm.
The buzz of arousal is fizzing through Ryan's bloodstream, building up gradually until his breath starts to come short. He rolls backwards awkwardly, shifting his grip on Bob's cock as he searches out his mouth. The combination of the hot wet of Bob's lips with the rough rasp of his beard is something Ryan doesn't think he'll ever tire of. He pushes into the kiss deeper, until Bob's rumbling against his mouth and speeding his hand.
Ryan breaks the kiss, his head falling back against the pillow as pleasure shoots from his crotch through his chest and down his arms. The languid buzz is pushed up to a hot rush and he loses his rhythm on Bob's dick and moans loud and long. When he glances sideways, Bob's watching him, his clear blues wrinkled at the corners because he's smirking at Ryan. And slowing his hand.
"Bob-" There's a note of desperation in Ryan's voice. He got so close so fast and now Bob's moving in slow motion. He tries to say 'come on' but all that comes out is a pathetic whine that makes Bob smirk wider and slow down even more, what the fuck?
He shifts his hips, trying to force more movement but Bob just stops altogether. Ryan swallows a noise of dismay, but Bob's expression is level and wicked. His hand doesn't move again until Ryan holds himself so, so still. When Bob's fingers slide again, excruciatingly slow, Ryan loses any hand-eye coordination he has left, his fingers just squeezing around Bob's dick in no real rhythm. He struggles in a breath and looks sideways, his chest tight when he sees the heat in Bob's eyes, the way they dance down his body and linger on his dick, hard and slick in Bob's hand.
Bob doesn't flinch, doesn't look away for a moment and somehow the agonizingly slow side of his hand is more intense than if he was milking Ryan's dick fast and furious. Every nerve in Ryan's body is trembling and alive, attuned and zinging with each slow stroke. Ryan's shaking and sweating, holding desperately still because he knows if he tries to push up into Bob's hand, Bob will stop again, he can see the wicked promise lurking in his hot gaze.
So he holds on, breath hissing between his teeth as Bob brings him off slow, slow, his face flushing, whining with want. He can feel it, trembling under Bob's hand, waiting for that quarter inch shift, that moment when Bob's thumb finds the spot on the underside of Ryan's cockhead and when it hits, oh. Oh. When it hits it's a wave of heat, shaking right up his torso, down his arms. Bob's fingers barely move and Ryan's cock pulses, spilling hot on Bob's hand as his hips seize and he makes a noise that's half breath, half shriek.
He's still trembling with orgasm when he takes Bob's mouth, kissing him hungrily into the bed, climbing on top of him and sliding his fingers through his own release so his hand will be slick on Bob's cock. He doesn't have the patience to do the same for Bob, he wants to bring them even now so he lets his hand move as it will, stroking firm and fast until Bob's moans are vibrating against his lips.
Their mouths part with a wet sound and Bob's breath blows over Ryan's lips as he pants. Ryan grins down at him, feeling wicked, but not wicked enough to keep Bob from his own release. He shoves his face into Bob's neck, caressing his throbbing pulse with his tongue and lets his fingers slide over Bob's shaft, over the head, stroking it out of him.
He knows Bob's close from the rhythmic grunt of his breathing, a noise he's become too attuned to over the hiss of a shitty microphone when he and Bob would Skype, long lazy sessions or rushed ones before one of them has to run to work. This is so much better because he can feel it against his cheek, and Bob's here, under his hands, warm and real. He opens his mouth on Bob's neck, catching skin between his teeth and Bob groans. Yes. He's so fucking close.
Ryan's head twitches up and he tosses his hair out of his eyes, wanting to see when Bob breaks. He firms and speeds his fingers, leaning over Bob, and their lips are a breath apart, Bob's moan pushing over Ryan's mouth, when his hips leap up and he spills hot on Ryan's hand.
When Bob's eyes open a moment later, Ryan's already smiling down at him, feeling entirely impressed with himself. Ryan can tell Bob's trying to keep his expression level, but that goes out the window when Ryan leans down to lick his cheek, giggling. When he flicks his head up again Bob is grinning at him, his hand hot on the small of Ryan's back.
"Hi."
"Hi." Ryan replies, slipping down into the nook between Bob's arm and his chest and wiping his hand on the sheets.
Ryan rubs his face against Bob chest, feeling warm and content like a well-fed cat. He hums a little, and it reverberates like a purr against Bob's skin. He looks up, his cheek resting on Bob's chest.
"Welcome home." Bob is still smiling at him but there's something else in it Ryan can't figure out.
Ryan hums again. LA is home, he supposes, but he didn't really feel like he was home until he saw Bob at the airport. He glances guiltily at his suitcase by the door. He should probably let Spencer know he'll get to their apartment at some point, but he doesn't feel like moving, not yet.
Bob catches his glance but doesn't say anything.
"Spencer will be wondering where I am."
"No, he won't," Bob counters, and Ryan grins. True enough.
Ryan sighs, letting his head roll back so he's looking at the ceiling. He's not looking forward to share house living again after having his own place all shoot. He says as much to Bob, crawling his hand across Bob's belly to scissor their fingers together.
"Who says you have to?" Bob asks, and Ryan's eyes twitch sideways, trying to read Bob's expression. "You could get your own place, or, you know..." Bob loses the rest of the sentence and Ryan sits up, leaning on his elbows and watching Bob closely.
"I know, what?"
"You could." Bob's struggling and Ryan thinks he knows the next part but that doesn't stop the tight knot from forming in his chest. "You could stay here. I have room. Two whole bathrooms and-"
"Bob." The name is out of Ryan's mouth without any real thought as the notion gets solid. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"
A flicker of apprehension crosses Bob's face and his voice comes out forcefully calm. "Well, it makes sense, right?"
"Right." Ryan fights a grin, feeling maybe a small urge for revenge for Bob's earlier antics. "Because I'm going to move in with you because it makes logical sense." Ryan emphasises, pressing his chin into Bob's chest and regarding him with a smirk before continuing hotly, "And not because I want to fuck you in every room of your house. Including the laundry."
Bob takes a breath and it looks shaky, so Ryan adds, "Multiple times."
Bob blinks a few times. "That's a plan too."
Ryan stops fighting the grin and lets it split his face. Bob's answering smile is reward enough.
He rolls onto his back to regard the ceiling again. "I'd want to pay rent."
"That's fair."
"And you'd have to let me do something about the living room, because oh my god." The words are out of Ryan's mouth before he even finishes thinking them. He knows Bob makes pretty good money but his living room has all the style of a college dorm.
"That's negotiable."
Ryan shoots a look sideways.
Bob shrugs. "You're not turning my place into some kind of weird hippie chillout zone."
"Bob, your living room is like a shrine to Xbox."
"And why is this a problem?"
Ryan makes a noise that should sound wounded, but it comes out twisted because he's smiling too hard. "At least some throws. Maybe a rug."
"No patterns."
Ryan rolls onto his side and glares at Bob from under his eyebrows.
"Don't make me retract my offer," Bob warns, face all doom but Ryan can see his lip twitching.
He trails a hand up and down Bob's chest, smiling at the way Bob's breath trips. "You're not gonna retract your offer." He leans his chin on Bob's chest. "You want me here." His voice comes out sounding more sure than he feels.
Bob's eyes go soft. "Yeah, I do."
Ryan’s pretty sure he can feel his own heart swelling. He drops a kiss on Bob's chest. "Good."
He lets himself bathe in Bob's warm gaze for a long moment before he rolls onto his side, grabbing Bob's wrists and wrapping himself in his arms. Bob settles behind him, legs warm against the back of Ryan's thighs, breath bouncing off Ryan's nape.
Ryan yawns, wondering if he should be trying to stay awake, if this is bad for the jetlag, but he doesn't really care enough. Bob drops a kiss on his shoulder and nuzzles him, breath already slowing down.
"I'm going to need more wardrobe space. The cupboards in the spare room." He mumbles. "I have a lot of clothes."
Bob makes a non committal noise, teeth grazing his shoulder. "No patterns." The words are muffled against Ryan's skin.
Ryan starts to fathom a response, but sleep gets him first.
(end)
dancinbutterfly's birthday and you know that that means? Yes. Porn. Yes, I know I am SO predictable. Rach honey, don't get excited, I'm afraid you have ALREADY read this ficlet, but I never posted it and I didn't have anything fresh baked for you for your birthday (OMG BBB HELL OMG) but I couldn't let your big day pass without SOME kind of porntastic acknowledgement!So! Here is some Bob/Ryan domestic!bliss sleepy-sex fic set in my Movie'verse what I wrote just for you *cough*lastyear*cough*. Hopefully it will be just as fun on it's second read.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BB. ALL THE HUGS.
Fandom: Bandom - MCR & P!ATD
Title: Paisley and Xbox
Pairing: Bob/Ryan
Length: ~2000 words
A/N: Huge thanks to
mistresscurvy for taking up excellent last minute beta duties. I owe you one, feel free to collect whenever you like!Summary: Ryan's first morning back in LA.
Paisley and Xbox
Ryan's awake before he opens his eyes. He's warm and comfortable and when he tilts his head into the pillow there's the rough scrape of Bob's beard at the back of his neck, his breath hot behind Ryan's ears. Ryan's lips curve into a smile as his eyes flutter open.
It takes a moment for him to orient himself. The room is larger than he's used to, the sheets on the bed a dark grey and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. The bed side table has a handful of coins, a cigarette lighter and small stack of CD's balanced precariously on its surface. There's a coil of cables and an old computer monitor on the battered desk against the wall. A haphazard pile of clothes and shoes lies on the floor by the bed, a tangle of what he and Bob were wearing last night. His suitcase stands by the door, untouched.
He should be jetlagged as fuck. It's probably ouch o'clock in Australia, but he's wide awake. He tries to stay still, not wake Bob, but he's fidgety and Bob's wrapped around him so tightly his arms shift whenever Ryan takes a breath so it's a lost cause. He knows he's woken Bob when Bob brushes his warm lips and beard across the sensitive skin of his nape.
"Go back to sleep." Bob's voice is gruff and low.
Ryan hums, not a yes, not a no. He stretches a little and it rubs him up against Bob, his back pushing into Bob's chest, his ass sliding against the wiry hairs at Bob's crotch. Bob makes a noise low in his throat and it rumbles against Ryan's back.
"You keep doing that and we're not going back to sleep."
Ryan does it again, pushing back more, grinding his ass into Bob. He's rewarded with Bob's shaky intake of breath and then Bob's mouth opens on the back of his neck, hot and wet. Ryan purrs and rolls back against Bob, nowhere near sleepy anymore as Bob's hand traces down his ribcage, over his belly, pressing warm and heavy over his hardening cock. He makes an approving noise that ends in a whine as he pushes his hips into Bob's grip. The movement lets a rush of warm air between his ass and Bob's crotch;, he reaches into the space, slipping his hand between their bodies to find Bob's dick.
There's a satisfying grunt from Bob when Ryan finds his grip and a similar one from Ryan, higher in pitch, when Bob's fingers curl around Ryan, hard and ready.
When they start to move it's slow and lazy. They don't have anywhere to be, meetings to make, screenings to attend. They can take their time, so they do. Bob traces his tongue over the shell of Ryan's ear and Ryan presses back against him, arching his back and rolling his hips into Bob's hand. His dick slicks up with precome and Bob's hand slides easier. Ryan's arm is at a weird angle, twisted behind his back, but his hold is sure and Bob's making encouraging noises as they stroke each other in a lazy shared rhythm.
The buzz of arousal is fizzing through Ryan's bloodstream, building up gradually until his breath starts to come short. He rolls backwards awkwardly, shifting his grip on Bob's cock as he searches out his mouth. The combination of the hot wet of Bob's lips with the rough rasp of his beard is something Ryan doesn't think he'll ever tire of. He pushes into the kiss deeper, until Bob's rumbling against his mouth and speeding his hand.
Ryan breaks the kiss, his head falling back against the pillow as pleasure shoots from his crotch through his chest and down his arms. The languid buzz is pushed up to a hot rush and he loses his rhythm on Bob's dick and moans loud and long. When he glances sideways, Bob's watching him, his clear blues wrinkled at the corners because he's smirking at Ryan. And slowing his hand.
"Bob-" There's a note of desperation in Ryan's voice. He got so close so fast and now Bob's moving in slow motion. He tries to say 'come on' but all that comes out is a pathetic whine that makes Bob smirk wider and slow down even more, what the fuck?
He shifts his hips, trying to force more movement but Bob just stops altogether. Ryan swallows a noise of dismay, but Bob's expression is level and wicked. His hand doesn't move again until Ryan holds himself so, so still. When Bob's fingers slide again, excruciatingly slow, Ryan loses any hand-eye coordination he has left, his fingers just squeezing around Bob's dick in no real rhythm. He struggles in a breath and looks sideways, his chest tight when he sees the heat in Bob's eyes, the way they dance down his body and linger on his dick, hard and slick in Bob's hand.
Bob doesn't flinch, doesn't look away for a moment and somehow the agonizingly slow side of his hand is more intense than if he was milking Ryan's dick fast and furious. Every nerve in Ryan's body is trembling and alive, attuned and zinging with each slow stroke. Ryan's shaking and sweating, holding desperately still because he knows if he tries to push up into Bob's hand, Bob will stop again, he can see the wicked promise lurking in his hot gaze.
So he holds on, breath hissing between his teeth as Bob brings him off slow, slow, his face flushing, whining with want. He can feel it, trembling under Bob's hand, waiting for that quarter inch shift, that moment when Bob's thumb finds the spot on the underside of Ryan's cockhead and when it hits, oh. Oh. When it hits it's a wave of heat, shaking right up his torso, down his arms. Bob's fingers barely move and Ryan's cock pulses, spilling hot on Bob's hand as his hips seize and he makes a noise that's half breath, half shriek.
He's still trembling with orgasm when he takes Bob's mouth, kissing him hungrily into the bed, climbing on top of him and sliding his fingers through his own release so his hand will be slick on Bob's cock. He doesn't have the patience to do the same for Bob, he wants to bring them even now so he lets his hand move as it will, stroking firm and fast until Bob's moans are vibrating against his lips.
Their mouths part with a wet sound and Bob's breath blows over Ryan's lips as he pants. Ryan grins down at him, feeling wicked, but not wicked enough to keep Bob from his own release. He shoves his face into Bob's neck, caressing his throbbing pulse with his tongue and lets his fingers slide over Bob's shaft, over the head, stroking it out of him.
He knows Bob's close from the rhythmic grunt of his breathing, a noise he's become too attuned to over the hiss of a shitty microphone when he and Bob would Skype, long lazy sessions or rushed ones before one of them has to run to work. This is so much better because he can feel it against his cheek, and Bob's here, under his hands, warm and real. He opens his mouth on Bob's neck, catching skin between his teeth and Bob groans. Yes. He's so fucking close.
Ryan's head twitches up and he tosses his hair out of his eyes, wanting to see when Bob breaks. He firms and speeds his fingers, leaning over Bob, and their lips are a breath apart, Bob's moan pushing over Ryan's mouth, when his hips leap up and he spills hot on Ryan's hand.
When Bob's eyes open a moment later, Ryan's already smiling down at him, feeling entirely impressed with himself. Ryan can tell Bob's trying to keep his expression level, but that goes out the window when Ryan leans down to lick his cheek, giggling. When he flicks his head up again Bob is grinning at him, his hand hot on the small of Ryan's back.
"Hi."
"Hi." Ryan replies, slipping down into the nook between Bob's arm and his chest and wiping his hand on the sheets.
Ryan rubs his face against Bob chest, feeling warm and content like a well-fed cat. He hums a little, and it reverberates like a purr against Bob's skin. He looks up, his cheek resting on Bob's chest.
"Welcome home." Bob is still smiling at him but there's something else in it Ryan can't figure out.
Ryan hums again. LA is home, he supposes, but he didn't really feel like he was home until he saw Bob at the airport. He glances guiltily at his suitcase by the door. He should probably let Spencer know he'll get to their apartment at some point, but he doesn't feel like moving, not yet.
Bob catches his glance but doesn't say anything.
"Spencer will be wondering where I am."
"No, he won't," Bob counters, and Ryan grins. True enough.
Ryan sighs, letting his head roll back so he's looking at the ceiling. He's not looking forward to share house living again after having his own place all shoot. He says as much to Bob, crawling his hand across Bob's belly to scissor their fingers together.
"Who says you have to?" Bob asks, and Ryan's eyes twitch sideways, trying to read Bob's expression. "You could get your own place, or, you know..." Bob loses the rest of the sentence and Ryan sits up, leaning on his elbows and watching Bob closely.
"I know, what?"
"You could." Bob's struggling and Ryan thinks he knows the next part but that doesn't stop the tight knot from forming in his chest. "You could stay here. I have room. Two whole bathrooms and-"
"Bob." The name is out of Ryan's mouth without any real thought as the notion gets solid. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"
A flicker of apprehension crosses Bob's face and his voice comes out forcefully calm. "Well, it makes sense, right?"
"Right." Ryan fights a grin, feeling maybe a small urge for revenge for Bob's earlier antics. "Because I'm going to move in with you because it makes logical sense." Ryan emphasises, pressing his chin into Bob's chest and regarding him with a smirk before continuing hotly, "And not because I want to fuck you in every room of your house. Including the laundry."
Bob takes a breath and it looks shaky, so Ryan adds, "Multiple times."
Bob blinks a few times. "That's a plan too."
Ryan stops fighting the grin and lets it split his face. Bob's answering smile is reward enough.
He rolls onto his back to regard the ceiling again. "I'd want to pay rent."
"That's fair."
"And you'd have to let me do something about the living room, because oh my god." The words are out of Ryan's mouth before he even finishes thinking them. He knows Bob makes pretty good money but his living room has all the style of a college dorm.
"That's negotiable."
Ryan shoots a look sideways.
Bob shrugs. "You're not turning my place into some kind of weird hippie chillout zone."
"Bob, your living room is like a shrine to Xbox."
"And why is this a problem?"
Ryan makes a noise that should sound wounded, but it comes out twisted because he's smiling too hard. "At least some throws. Maybe a rug."
"No patterns."
Ryan rolls onto his side and glares at Bob from under his eyebrows.
"Don't make me retract my offer," Bob warns, face all doom but Ryan can see his lip twitching.
He trails a hand up and down Bob's chest, smiling at the way Bob's breath trips. "You're not gonna retract your offer." He leans his chin on Bob's chest. "You want me here." His voice comes out sounding more sure than he feels.
Bob's eyes go soft. "Yeah, I do."
Ryan’s pretty sure he can feel his own heart swelling. He drops a kiss on Bob's chest. "Good."
He lets himself bathe in Bob's warm gaze for a long moment before he rolls onto his side, grabbing Bob's wrists and wrapping himself in his arms. Bob settles behind him, legs warm against the back of Ryan's thighs, breath bouncing off Ryan's nape.
Ryan yawns, wondering if he should be trying to stay awake, if this is bad for the jetlag, but he doesn't really care enough. Bob drops a kiss on his shoulder and nuzzles him, breath already slowing down.
"I'm going to need more wardrobe space. The cupboards in the spare room." He mumbles. "I have a lot of clothes."
Bob makes a non committal noise, teeth grazing his shoulder. "No patterns." The words are muffled against Ryan's skin.
Ryan starts to fathom a response, but sleep gets him first.
(end)
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Those two together make so much sense, and I really like how comfortable together, and how they're opposites in so many ways and yet fit.
It's an excellent addition to the verse.