Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jon had to stop doing this to himself.

It all started with finding that god damn tag in the first place. Then, much later, after repeatedly telling himself that reading the fanfiction was too far, he found himself indulging his stream audience and narrating a scene that would haunt his thoughts for weeks to come. And now here he was, listening to Ryan's voice rumble through graphic smut and trying to act like it didn't affect him at all.

Although.

To say that finding the Risingwood tag was what started this whole thing would be nothing short of an outright lie.

What had really started this bullshit was an unhealthy amount of time spent on the achievement hunter couch. Months worth of a build-up of crooked smiles and easy banter until that one day when Ryan had walked through the door with his hair just so, eyes shining with a bright open smile meant only for Jon and the earth had fallen away from under Jon Risinger's feet.

Jon's singular thought in both that moment and this was simply: "Shit."

"Ryan let out a whine- Jon that's you!" Ryan broke his narration to bring Jon back into the story.

Jon had to collect his thoughts and control his voice as he let out what he hoped to be a non-committal whimper. There was a very real fear here that the noises would be too real. That he wouldn't be able to pass them off as jokes. God he felt pathetic.

Jon honestly hadn't thought he'd be this affected. It was supposed to be funny. And it was, damn it, the whole scenario was ridiculous. But there was some inconsiderate part of him which couldn't quite get over how striking the image was of Ryan on his knees, panting and whimpering as someone came over his face. Fucking hell Jon wished he hadn't read ahead.

After what felt like a lifetime of wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear, the story was over and everyone was laughing. They made their jokes, moved on to the next segment and Jon fanned himself and worked on relearning how to breathe.

Jon had couldn't have been more happy that the rest of the long long stream was so hectic. Every time his mind threatened to drift back to dangerous subjects, some new madness kicked off that brought him right back to safer ground where he didn't have to think, only react. Time rolled on, people came and went, Gus changed everything, Jack lost his beard.

And then the stream was done. And Jon was tired.

It was only when he was home and laid back on his own bed that he finally relaxed and allowed his mind to drift.

Only one topic rose to the forefront of his thoughts.

The interesting thing about this story, Jon considered as he pushed down his boxers to free his half-hard cock, was that it had presented a new angle on the concept of fucking Ryan. One that made perfect sense yet somehow hadn't crossed Jon's mind before.

During Jon's previous encounters with fan creations and his own imagination, Ryan had always been the one In Charge. Pinning Jon to the forest floor and having his way with him, taking Jon from behind and hissing obscenities as he pounded into him... Jon closed his eyes and began stroking himself at the memories of the images his mind had created.

But now, what this new story suggested to Jon was the exact opposite scenario. He thought of the way Ryan was around people like Meg - responsive and obedient despite his protests - and of the way he seemed so desperate to please and be praised.

It wasn't hard for Jon, then, to create an image for himself of Ryan knelt naked on the floor in front of him, arms bound behind his back and blue eyes shining as he gazed up at Jon. Lust filled Ryan's expression as Jon pumped his dick just out of the reach of Ryan's open, panting mouth. Jon wondered what Ryan's voice might sound like right now. Broken and desperate and full of need.

"J-Jon... please-" Something close to a whimper resonated through Jon's mind, as clear as if Ryan was there himself.

Oh christ that was too easy to imagine. Jon's grip on his own dick tightened for a moment as arousal swept through him and he bit back a small moan.

As he continued to stroke up and down his own length, Jon wondered what he would do in this situation, Ryan lustful and needy yet so so obedient for Jon, doing exactly what he was told...

The idea materialised in his head, somehow it felt obvious and yet... he tested the words on his tongue, whispering them huskily into the quiet air of his dimly lit bedroom.

"G-good boy."

In Jon's head, Ryan flushed sheepishly at the praise. Just as he would in real life. Ryan's dick twitched in response to Jon's words and oh god it was all too easy to imagine, all too close to reality.

Jon groaned quietly and tried to imagine what it would be like to thread his fingers through Ryan's hair and grip tight, holding Ryan in place and pulling a moan out of Ryan's throat. Perhaps he would fuck into Ryan's mouth, revelling in the desperate whimpers and moans until he came down Ryan's throat. Or maybe he would hold Ryan just in front of his dick, far enough that he couldn't suck Jon's cock despite how much he desperately wanted to but close enough that he could feel the warmth of the proximity on his lips as Jon jerked himself to climax.

In terms of sensations, the latter was easier for Jon to recreate in the moment so he settled on picturing that image. He wound his free fist in the bed sheets and thought of Ryan's hair and how it would feel twisted in his fingers. Thought of Ryan's mouth, lips wet and wanting, of Ryan's eyes, peering up at Jon through heavy lids.

Jon pumped himself faster now, needing the release of climax with increasing desperation. Once again the desire hit to test the words that had invaded his thoughts unbidden all day.

"Good boy, Ryan, you're such a good boy for me," Jon was getting so close, Ryan mewled and squirmed at the combination of the praise and the tension of the hair pulling.

"Fuck Ry, you love this huh? Love being my good obedient boy?" And Ryan was there, trembling and whining under Jon's grip, straining to take Jon's cock in his mouth but not wanting to disobey Jon after all of the lovely praise. Jon worked his dick harder and faster, pumping and pumping and tightening his grip on Ryan's hair until finally he came. Ryan closed his eyes and moaned obscenely as Jon's cum shot across his face and hair. He opened his eyes and once again peered up at Jon through his eyelashes. Jon stroked a thumb across Ryan's scalp and whispered one last time.

"Good boy."

And then Jon was alone.

Laid back in his own bed with sheets bunched up around him and semen covering his t-shirt.

With a sigh, Jon stripped his shirt off and used it to mop up any excess cum, before screwing it into a ball and tossing it to a corner of the room. He collapsed into his pillows and barely mustered the energy to pull the blankets over himself before finally letting exhaustion take him and drifting off to sleep.

Post-sleep Jon could process all of this. Post-sleep Jon could deal with the guilt of what sleep-deprived Jon had just admitted to himself. Post-sleep Jon could hate everything about the last 24 hours.

But for now, Jon was so very tired. He wanted only to drift off to sleep and maybe think about what it might be like to fall asleep pressed up against Ryan's back, burying his face into Ryan's neck and hair and breathing in his warmth. Pressing soft kisses into Ryan's shoulders until the two of them fell into a gentle slumber with deep synchronised breathing.

Finally, Jon slept.