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“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ryland asked quietly. “We don’t have to.”
“‘M fine. Just nervous. I-I want this.” (I want you.)
Ryland took a deep breath. “How can I make this easier?”
Simon closed his eyes, reaching blindly in Ryland’s direction. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have to. Ryland understood what he needed.
“Okay, I’m here,” he murmured, taking Simon in his arms. He was warm. Simon leaned into the hug. “D’you want me to suggest things?”
Simon nodded.
“Okay.” Ryland squeezed him gently. “Um… what if I take my clothes off first?”
Simon considered. That sounded okay. “Mmh.”
Ryland kissed his forehead. “Okay. Do you wanna take your own clothes off, or do you want me to do it?”
That was easy. “You.”
“Okay,” Ryland agreed. “Anything else you can think of?”
Simon shook his head.
“Right, then we’re good to go.” He patted Simon’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, I do have to let go of you in order to do this.”
Simon grunted, reluctantly opening his eyes and stepping back from the embrace. Ryland took his shirt off, then his pants, folding everything neatly and setting it aside. Only his socks and underwear were left. He was far too thin, they both were, but Simon didn’t care. He was beautiful.
“Your turn.” Ryland smiled at him. “Color?”
“Green.”
“Good.” Ryland stepped in close, hands darting up Simon’s shirt to run over his scarred skin. Ryland always said he loved the texture of it, and sometimes Simon tried to believe him. “Breathe.”
Simon hadn’t realized he’d stopped, but the inhale he took at Ryland’s command felt like the first in an age. He felt Ryland’s hands resting on either side of his abdomen, and knew that the man would be able to feel the rise and fall of each breath. Those hands wandered further, finding their way up to Simon’s pecs and squeezing gently. His fingers found a nipple and rolled it gently. Simon swallowed a gasp.
“Can you let me hear you?” Ryland whispered, going still.
Simon swallowed. “I’ll. I’ll try.”
Ryland kissed him softly. “Okay. Thank you. Raise your arm?” Simon obeyed, closing his eyes again as Ryland pulled the shirt up and over his head. He shivered slightly, goosebumps rising in the cool ship air.
“Color?”
“Green.”
“Good,” Ryland murmured, letting Simon lay his head on his shoulder. “You’re doing so good.”
Simon blushed. “‘M hardly doing anything.”
Ryland ran his fingers through Simon’s hair. “You don’t need to,” he said softly. “That’s the point. This time, I get to make you feel good, remember?”
He closed his hand around a fistful of dark curls and tugged. Not hard, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make Simon gasp. “Fuck.”
“Good,” Ryland whispered again. “I wanna know how good I make you feel. It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”
Hugging him close, skin to skin, Ryland guided him backward towards their makeshift bed. Simon didn’t resist, didn’t even lift his head from Ryland’s shoulder. He felt himself being pushed down, briefly fighting the instinct to panic as he moved through open air, knowing (trusting) that Ryland wouldn’t let him fall. His back met the fabric of their bed, and a moment later Ryland’s familiar, comforting weight was on top of him.
Ryland kissed him deeply, tongues flicking into each other’s mouths, saliva mingling. Simon gasped as Ryland broke away only to start trailing a line of kisses down his throat. Usually, Simon would be the one doing this. He found he didn’t hate things being the other way around.
Ryland sat up, straddling him. Simon could see the bulge in Ryland’s underwear, and knew he bore a matching one. He’d been fully naked in front of Ryland before, but the idea of being so completely, fully exposed was still a little bit nerve-wracking. He was glad he didn’t have to do this next part himself; he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength.
Ryland tugged at Simon’s pants, and Simon lifted his hips to help. “Good,” Ryland encouraged, pulling the white sweats down toward Simon’s knees, then all the way off. He didn’t bother folding them, just tossed them to the floor somewhere. Underwear was next. The final barrier. His fingers curled around the waistband. “Color?”
Simon rolled his eyes. Sometimes bravado was easier. “Jesus fuck, you don’t need to ask that every two seconds.”
The corner of Ryland’s mouth quirked upward. “Sorry. I, uh, assume that means green?”
“Yeah, green,” Simon agreed, forcing his muscles to relax. A bit of an oxymoron, but hey, he was doing his fucking best here.
“Good,” Ryland murmured, carefully pulling the boxers down before flinging them away to join the pants. Simon shivered slightly; the ship’s air was a perfectly comfortable temperature, but there was something about being fully vulnerable like this, laid out on the cot before Ryland and the world, that made the slightest air current feel a little bit colder, a little bit sharper. It was either exciting or terrifying. Maybe both. Maybe it didn’t matter.
Simon tried to take a deep breath as Ryland spat into his hand. There was no going back; this was really happening. He was really doing this. Fuck.
He swallowed a moan as Ryland wrapped a hand around his dick. It’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s fucking fine. I need to enjoy this.
It felt good, a little different from how Simon did it himself, and he tried to relax into it. Goddammit. Why couldn’t he let himself enjoy this? He fucking wanted to. Why wouldn’t his brain just turn the fuck off?
Ryland bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his belly, then one a little further south, still slowly jerking him off.
Shit. Shit. Fuck. He could feel himself tensing. Jesus fuck, he was never going to be able to do this. Ryland wanted this so badly (fuck if he knew why) and Simon was going to ruin it, he was going to ruin everything and Ryland was never going to touch him again, never want to be close to him again, and it was all—
“Color?”
Say green, say green, say green— “Gr— yellow,” he choked, sludgy shame welling up in his throat.
Ryland slowed, then stopped, pulling back and wiping his hand on the bed. “Yeah. You looked a little… I dunno, panicky.”
Simon swallowed hard. “S-sorry.”
“Hey. Don’t.” Ryland’s voice was unusually firm. “You know better. Do you want to stop?”
Simon opened his mouth to say no, no, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted that to be the true answer. He didn’t want to want to stop. But what was the truth? Ryland would be able to tell, Simon knew that by now.
Ryland took his hand, squeezing it gently. Simon felt a shiver run up his spine. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “We can stop. Just say the word.”
Simon knew, deep deep down, that Ryland was telling the truth. It was okay if he wanted to stop. There would be no hard feelings, no guilt-tripping, no malice. Ryland had proven this over and over again, proven himself to be true to his words, enough times that maybe… maybe Simon could really believe. It was still scary, to step off that cliff, but Ryland’s hand in his was an anchor point stronger than his fear. It would catch him either way.
“No,” Simon whispered, opening his eyes to meet Ryland’s gaze. “I don’t want to stop.” It was the truth.
Ryland smiled and it was like a new leaf on the Tree, tender and beautiful and full of hope. “Okay.” He squeezed Simon’s hand, and Simon squeezed back. “I love you.”
Simon swallowed. “L-love you too.”
“You ready to keep going?”
Simon nodded. Nervous energy threaded through him, buzzing through his stomach and settling in his gut as fluttering moths. (Ryland had taught him about moths and butterflies. It was hard to imagine something like that being real, but from what the Don’t Go Crazy room could show, they were beautiful. Apparently, they melted completely into unrecognizable goop inside their cocoons, emerging weeks later as completely new organisms with their memories intact. Simon wondered if the change was scary. If they knew what was happening, if they knew that they’d survive. If they thought they were beautiful after, or if they longed to go back to their old self.)
“You’re thinking again,” Ryland murmured, kissing the crease in Simon’s brow. “Let’s fix that.”
Simon shivered— Ryland’s voice had dropped down in pitch, and fuck, it was hot. “Oh, yeah?”
Ryland smirked. “You like that idea?”
Against his will, a tiny smile crept over Simon’s lips. “Maybe. I could be convinced.”
“Mm. I can be very persuasive.”
“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I— fuck!” Simon gasped as Ryland abruptly wrapped a hand back around his dick.
“You were saying?” Ryland asked, shit-eating grin still plastered across his stupid face.
“Shut u— ffffuck.” Simon’s eyes fluttered shut as Ryland started to stroke gently up and down.
“Feels good?” Ryland murmured.
Simon tried to scoff. It came out breathier than he would willingly admit. “Th-the fuck do you think?”
Ryland smiled, letting go and scooting backward to a more comfortable dick-sucking position. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”
Simon inhaled sharply as Ryland took him in his mouth. It felt so fucking good, almost good enough to distract him from his racing thoughts. He didn’t want this to stop, didn’t want to freak out again, because this was good, it felt good, and he should be allowed to fucking enjoy it without his stupid fucking brain getting the way again!!! Jesus fuck!
Blindly, he reached down, wiggling his fingers in Ryland’s direction. A silent request. It was stupid, really, to need that kind of reassurance when Ryland was literally sucking him off, but— damn it. He swallowed hard, feeling an all-too-familiar burning in the back of his throat. Fuck. He didn’t want to cry.
His breath hitched as Ryland took his hand and squeezed it gently. Simon squeezed back, and Ryland hummed happily, sending a new and interesting sort of vibration through Simon’s dick. It was a little bit of a strange sensation, but absolutely not a bad one.
Ryland felt so good, the rhythm he held wasn’t too fast or too slow but just right, and he wasn’t doing anything fancy but it didn’t fucking matter because it was him and that was everything. His eyes fucking burned. Everything felt so good. “Ry,” Simon choked.
Ryland froze, looking up at him with worry scrawled across his face.
Simon squeezed his hand. “N-no, don’t stop,” he managed.
Ryland ran his hand up Simon’s belly. “Simon,” he whispered, “you’re crying.” Simon swallowed and tried to turn away, but Ryland caught his chin and turned him back. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
Simon shut his eyes, trying to stop the flow of treacherous tears. He felt himself convulse in a sob.
Ryland grabbed his shoulders, pressing him firmly into the cot. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
“N-no.” Simon turned, closing his eyes even tighter.
“Simon…” Ryland whispered, leaning in close and pressing kiss after kiss to Simon’s salt-washed cheeks. “It’s okay. You can do it. You can look at me.”
Simon’s breath hitched, and he let out another strangled sob. Ryland ran his fingers through Simon’s hair, scratching lightly over his scalp. It made Simon shiver.
“I’m s-sorry,” he cried.
Ryland took his hand again, the other still in Simon’s hair. “What for?”
For being fucking stupid. For being a coward. For not being able to see myself like you do. For ruining this. For everything.
“Hey.” Ryland squeezed his hand. “Please look at me.”
Simon shuddered. “C-can’t.”
“Try,” Ryland whispered. “For me.”
Simon squeezed his hand and cracked open his eyes. Just barely. What he saw brought a fresh sob from his throat: Ryland was gazing down at him, nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. There was no judgement, no barely-disguised fear, there— there wasn’t even pity. The only thing in Ryland’s face was love. He wanted to deserve that love so, so badly.
Maybe he did.
What if he did?
“I—I love you,” he choked.
Simon could see tears forming at the corners of Ryland’s eyes. “I love you too,” he answered.
Simon searched his face. “Why?” he whispered. “What did I do?”
Ryland kissed him. “You existed.”
Simon smiled through the tears. “I want to believe you. I-I want to let myself believe you.”
Ryland smiled back, now fully crying too. “I know it’s scary,” he whispered, “but you can do it. I’m right here with you.”
“I-I’m trying,” Simon choked. “It’s— it’s so hard to let go.”
“I know,” Ryland murmured. “But I’m here, I’ll catch you.”
“D-do you promise?”
A couple of tears fell from Ryland’s eyes and splattered, warm, on Simon’s cheeks. “I promise.”
Simon blinked, trying to clear his vision. “Okay.”
With a soft laugh, Ryland kissed him. “What a mess we are.”
Simon sighed, twisting sideways trying to wipe his eyes on the bedsheet. “Yeah. We’re fucked.”
Ryland helped, dabbing at Simon’s face with the blanket. “Hey, uh… I’ve never been one for, um, flirtatious banter, or cursing but… if I was, I might say something about…”
Simon actually laughed. “Okay, I don’t think either of us are ready for that.”
Ryland smirked. “Probably not… but, uh, maybe next time?”
Next time. Simon’s heart bloomed. Ryland wanted there to be a next time. “Fuckin’ easy there. We haven’t even finished this time yet.”
“Good point.” Ryland pressed Simon’s head into the pillow with another hungry, searching kiss, wrapping a hand once again around the base of Simon’s dick as he did. Simon could feel his grin, and this time he didn’t even try to hold back his moan. “Yeah,” Ryland murmured, pulling back from the kiss and crawling backwards down the bed. “I want to hear you, okay?”
Simon swore violently as Ryland took him in his mouth again. Fuck, he couldn’t believe they hadn’t done this before. It felt so fucking good. More than good. Simon didn’t think he could conjure up the appropriate vocabulary, especially not with Ryland doing— with Ryland—
Simon threw his head back. “Holy fuck, Ry!” he cried.
Ryland squeezed his hand, shifting his position so his other hand was free to wander across Simon’s body. Touching, feeling, caressing. He sped up, and Simon felt as though his brain might melt out of his ears. He was moaning, panting, breath coming in hitched little gasps as his body twitched with pleasure.
Warmth coiled in his gut, slowly growing and spreading until it felt like a solid Thing sitting beneath his skin. “M— close,” he panted, shutting his eyes and letting his head loll limply on the pillow. “Fuck, Ry.”
Ryland sped up even more, sending all sorts of interesting and wonderful sensations zinging through Simon’s cranium. He was having real trouble forming thoughts beyond fuck that feels so fucking good and oh fuck keep going and holy fucking shit, Ryland. He didn’t mind. In fact he quite enjoyed it. Most of the time, his thoughts were unpleasant. It was… having a break from them was… yeah, he could get used to this.
He could get used to all of this. The bubbling in his stomach as he got closer and closer, the involuntary spasming and shouting as he finally tipped over the edge, the way Ryland’s smile glowed as he swallowed, the taste of himself on Ry’s lips and tongue as they kissed. The boneless, sappy, sleepy feeling starting to permeate every pore. Ryland brushing the tears out of his eyes and holding him while they both kept crying. Yeah, he could get used to all of this.
Distantly, he heard Ryland ask the computer for water. Less distantly, he felt Ryland touch his arm. He blinked sleepily, trying to draw his focus back to here and now.
Ryland offered him a cup. “Here. Drink.”
Simon accepted it, sitting up awkwardly. He didn’t want to move an inch, but he was thirsty, and he couldn’t drink laying down. “Thanks.”
“How are you, uh, feeling?” Ryland asked softly as Simon finished chugging the water.
Simon considered. How did he feel? “Mmh… tired?” he guessed.
Ryland smiled. “Yeah. Me too.”
“But… good.”
Ryland gently laid a hand on Simon’s chest, carefully pushing him back down into the bed. “Me too.”
Simon didn’t resist, flopping willingly backwards with Ryland next to him. Something brushed against his thigh, and with a start he realized that Ryland was still hard. “Uh… Ry?” Simon asked, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the issue. “Do you want me to—“
“Don’t worry about it,” Ryland said softly. “Today was about you. I don’t need anything. Heck, I don’t know if I even want anything.” He laced his fingers through Simon’s. “Making you feel good was more than enough.”
Simon hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t mind, really.”
Ryland smiled. “I know.” He nuzzled close, pressing a kiss to the nape of Simon’s neck. “Trust me. I’m happy just like this.”
Simon hum-sighed, tilting his head so Ryland was nestled between it and his shoulder. “Okay. If you promise.”
“I promise.”