Something You Like
Part 1 of the Fucking Ryan series.
He's been watching Dean for days.
He's not hard to notice. He's got a Glasgow smile and a gimp leg and he's tougher looking than any hunter Dean's ever met. Like he's been to hell and back but kept the scars, instead of getting a do-over like Dean did.
Dean's been quietly watching him back. Over the table in the war room. From a distance in the library. While they're both dodging all the other bodies in the kitchen that's too small for self-catering when there's two dozen people now living under Dean's roof.
They've never been this close, though. Never been this alone. Never just the two of them coming face to face like they are now, in an otherwise deserted hallway.
The hunter bites his lower lip, his scarred cheek pulling the corner of his mouth into a strangely alluring half-Joker smile.
"It's Ryan, right?" Dean says.
Dean made sure to ask Sam about him. Sam seemed to think it was an invitation to give Dean the dossier of every one of the Apocalypse World refugees, but Ryan's the only one Dean was interested in.
The scars on his face he got before his world went to shit. Some kind of monster Dean's never heard of. Whatever it was, it had to have had some nasty claws.
The leg was the result of a bloody battle with the angels. Sam told Dean he almost lost it.
"That's me." Ryan's eyes slowly travel the length of Dean. Ryan's tongue appears between his lips. It's unmistakable.
Dean's still twisted up inside, hyper-aware after being possessed by Michael, and there are so many questions that are still unanswered. It's hard to shake off the feeling that this other hunter is a threat, that every one of the strangers under his roof, with their mess and their noise and their eating every morsel of food in the house are a threat, but Dean manages to push it down, at least in this case.
Because if he's right about this guy... Well.
There's something Dean needs from him. "See something you like?" he asks.
Ryan's lips pull into a twisted smile. "All of it." He takes a slow step forward. Another.
A distant voice grows louder as someone approaches. It's no one Dean knows. He looks around, and there's a broom closet only steps away. Jerks his head in the direction of the door, and he reaches for it.
The light from the hall blinks out as Ryan closes the door behind him.
The darkness is complete. Voices and footsteps pass by in the hallway while heavy breaths make the air warm and close inside the closet. Dean reaches out.
Ryan is tall and thin, wiry muscle beneath his clothes. Dean hasn't seen him in action but wants to see him hunt. He'd like to feel the way the muscles move beneath his skin when he exerts himself.
"Tell me what you want. " Ryan says, his voice low and husky in the darkness.
Dean balls his fists over the bare skin beneath Ryan's shirt. "Kiss me," he whispers, and leans in, following the voice.
It's been a while since he's felt the rough scratch of stubble against his chin, the masculine hunger behind a kiss. It's been too long, he's too eager, in too much of a hurry to lose himself for a while.
He's too desperate, and he hits the wall behind him, wraps his arms around Ryan and pulls him back.
"Hot for it, aren't you?"
Dean feels the scars as Ryan whispers against his mouth, grunts as Ryan slides his hand over Dean's denim-covered cock.
Dean's hard and aching already, and a shiver of lust goes through him when Ryan removes his hand and grinds his hips against Dean's. Hard cock against hard cock. Trapped in restrictive denim, but the grind amps up the friction and Dean growls.
"Fuck, yeah, you're hot." Ryan squeezes Dean's ass as he grinds their hips together.
"Fuck, yeah," Dean echoes. "Fucking kiss me."
"In a sec, baby," Ryan hisses, and then there's a finger pressing past Dean's lips. Dean sucks it in, washes it with his tongue, makes it good as he thinks about dropping to his knees to take the hard cock pressing against his own into his mouth.
"Good boy," Ryan whispers, his lips moving against Dean's cheek before he replaces his finger with his tongue.
Then Ryan pulls up Dean's shirt, wriggles his hand down the back of Dean's jeans.
The finger Dean just had in his mouth slides down the crack of his ass. Slicks, wet, over his hole.
Dean lets out a strangled moan, whines into the kiss as Ryan pushes a fingertip inside him.
Yeah, it's definitely been too long. Dean's head clunks back against the tiled wall, and he fucks himself back onto the finger in his ass. He's not normally one for begging, but he's a hairs breadth from it. Bites his tongue as Ryan fucks him, grinds his cock against Dean's, sucks on Dean's throat, and Dean doesn't dare open his mouth to tell Ryan to not leave a mark.
He almost doesn't care.
"Gonna come, baby?" Ryan croons. "Gonna come for me?"
Dean's knees are weak, shaking with the effort to hold himself up. "Yeah," he grunts.
He holds tight to Ryan's arms, clings to him so he doesn't fall. "Make me come." Rocks his hips. The friction is intense, tiny bit of spit, no lube, heavy drag as Ryan wriggles deeper inside him.
Next time he'll pull Ryan into his room instead of a closet, lock the door, get on his hands and knees. "Fuck me," slips from his lips. The pressure in his balls and in his cock is unbearable, he can't stand any more. His hands are numb, fingers curling, locked around Ryan's biceps.
The floodgates open. Heat flares in his fingertips, sparks shoot down his spine. His cock pulses in his jeans like a heartbeat, and his body clamps down, his legs stiffening, his voice rising to a keen that would be unmistakable should anyone be close enough to hear it.
"I will," Ryan says, rough voice breaking into a groan as he shudders and slumps against Dean's body.
The air goes still, the only movement their heavy breaths and shaking bodies.
Finally, Ryan pulls away. He presses a hard kiss to Dean's lips, and then Dean's blinded as he opens the door to slip out.
It closes, leaving Dean in the dark again. His knees give out, and he slides to the floor.
It's definitely been too long.
fin
