Work Text:
It's been about four months since James and Ryan have talked when his phone pings with a notification sound he thought he'd never hear again.
(Yes, okay? He did set a special text tone for Ryan Gosling. You would too, if you had Ryan Gosling's phone number. It… it just makes things efficient.)
He's sitting on the couch, half-eaten takeout sitting on the coffee table and some show on in the background. He's exhausted as all hell and damn near asleep, but that doesn't stop him from scrambling for his phone, which is buried somewhere in between his couch cushions and his legs.
He taps at his phone and squints against the bright light.
Ryan: You excited for Oscars season?
…Oh.
Right.
He'd… kind of forgotten that was happening. Or, no, he hadn't forgotten it was happening, he'd forgotten he was, uh. Invited. Which seems absurd, he's aware, because he plays (voices? puppets?) one of the two main characters in one of the most popular films of the year (yeesh, scary), but then again he hadn't really done any group press when the movie came out, and he'd kind of accepted that his fling with Hollywood was over.
Well. Apparently not.
He swipes his phone open and stares at the text for a few seconds, his mind devoid of any response. Then, hesitant:
Of course i am!
Must be a lot less exciting to you though mr 3 oscar noms
He sits and waits. Knee bouncing, fingers tapping against the side of the case. Ryan doesn't take long to respond.
Hey, it's still exciting. Maybe this year I'll actually win, thanks to you.
Don't say that it's all you. You totally deserve it
Thanks.
It's your first Oscars, isn't it? I almost forgot. What are you going to wear?
Yeaaaah i don't know yet
Maybe i'll hire a stylist or something
We'll see i'll figure it out
Oh. You don't need to do that.
?
You can use mine.
James blinks. What? Use his stylist? Use Ryan Gosling's stylist? For the Oscars? Is he serious?
Lol
What? I'm serious.
Oh.
Oh
Ryan that's really nice but i probably couldn't afford the
type of stylist you have
I can find someone on my own
I'll be fine
You don't have to worry about that.
What
The cost. I'll take care of it. It's fine.
Woah no no no
I can't let you do that
I'm not asking you to do that
You're not asking. I'm offering!
He's my stylist. It's alright, I'll pay.
Ryan seriously it's fine
Come on!! It's your first awards show, you have to look sharp!
Can i at least pay you back or something
Like a favor??
I said don't worry about it, James, just come to the show looking good and that's all I'll need.
Jesus ryan
I mean
Fine i guess
Yay!!!
It's hard not to crack a smile at that. Ryan, despite texting in all caps and perfect grammar for some reason, also texts with a lot of whimsy. It's not as surprising as James would've thought at first, actually. It somehow seems to fit him. He can almost hear Ryan's voice -
O-kay. Ryan's not his lover gone off to war or anything. He's just his friend. James can be normal about this.
So
When do you wanna do it
?
Cause i'm free whenever
I just don't know when you would want to fly out here
Or fly me out to there
Whatever works
…Nailed it.
So Ryan pays for James' ticket to LA, because that's where his stylist is. He refuses to even listen to James' offers to pay him back, or to babysit for him, or literally anything else. It's a little panic-inducing, but Ryan keeps telling him to calm down and let me do this for you, James, so he's doing his darndest.
He stays at a hotel (and he pays for that, at least, since Ryan won't let him pay for literally anything else), so he's taking an Uber to the stylist's place. It's pretty out of the way, about 45 minutes from where James is staying, but Ryan had assured him that he'd be there first, so James would know where to go.
He's nervous. He's really nervous.
He spends the whole ride bouncing his knee in the backseat, hands tightening in the fabric of his jeans. It'll be fine, he tells himself. It's fine that you don't know what the hell you're doing, because Ryan does.
The Uber driver, to their credit, is a very good driver. Unfortunately for James, who had been hoping for a little traffic or route confusion, they get there five minutes earlier than the GPS predicted. Which means he only had 40 minutes to prepare for this. Which is nice.
Ryan is, as promised, waiting for him as soon as he shuts the Uber door.
"James!" he calls, waving as if James didn't see him right away. "I'm over here!"
"I see you!" James calls back, breaking into a sort of speed-walk. It's a little awkward because Ryan doesn't move and he's not exactly close to James, so they both spend about a minute being very excited and smiling very wide while James walks as fast as he possibly can, but then Ryan's right in front of him for the first time in what feels like a century and he can't help feeling giddy.
"Hi," James says.
"Hi," Ryan says, and then scoops him into a hug.
"Oh -"
Ryan squeezes him so tight it feels like the air's being knocked out of his lungs. He doesn't really mind, though. He's missed Ryan, and getting to feel his arms around him and his hair against James' face is like something out of a dream.
Not that he… dreams of Ryan.
Ryan releases him from the hug and pats his shoulders, grinning. "How are you?"
"I've been alright," James says, gesturing vaguely. "You?"
"Better now that you're here," he says. If that doesn't make James feel all jittery. "I have a plan."
"Should I be scared?" James asks, teasing. Ryan doesn't say anything, just keeps grinning. Suddenly a little terrified, James repeats, "Should I be scared, Ryan?"
It takes four hours.
The stylist, Mark, is very nice about the whole thing despite how out of place James feels. It might actually be the first time he's ever felt that way, out of place. Ryan hovers around him and Mark the whole time, making comments on how they need to tailor the blazer a little tighter in the back or how the pants should be cuffed maybe just a half-inch shorter. Mark keeps snorting at him, probably because Ryan doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.
It's a little bit invasive, but he grits his teeth and bares with it. Mark keeps hands on him nearly the entire visit, presumably to see how the fabric flows and how it fits and whatnot, but for James, who has not gone out for entirely too long much less had another man's hands on him…
Well, it's just embarrassing, alright? It's embarrassing.
There are a lot, and he means a lot, of options. Mark seems to have every single color of every single type of suit there could possibly be, and then some with patterns for good measure. He mentions that Ryan usually goes with something pinstripe, and James does try on a couple striped suits, though he doesn't really like any. They probably go through the entire color wheel and every single type of fabric before landing on a black dress shirt, black slacks, and a deep green vest. Mark and Ryan had started out wanting a full suit, but all the blazers had seemed… oh, he doesn't know. Plain? Boring? Exorbitantly expensive? Just not his style? Either way, he'd managed to talk them down to just the vest. Which is still stupidly fancy, mind. It's this rich forest green with deeper green lapels that glitter just so when he twists and turns under the lights, and there are little swirly patterns that dot the blazer to match. He looks a little bit like a woodland fairy, if woodland fairies wore black dress shirts and polished shoes.
He actually likes it a lot.
Ryan does, too, if the look on his face is anything to go by. He looks beatific when James says that he actually likes this one a lot. James gives a little spin for good measure, and Ryan applauds him, whistling.
"Sharp," he says, his eyebrows raised.
"Sharp enough for my first awards show, you think?" James teases, recalling their conversation from about a week before.
"I mean…" Ryan trails off, not saying anything for a moment. He looks lost in thought for some reason, like James had just asked him what the meaning of life was and not if he looked good in the vest. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe even sharper."
"Careful, I'll cut somebody," James mutters, a joke that's not even funny to himself, but Ryan bursts out laughing like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Then again, James has watched Ryan's SNL sketches - so it's probably just that the guy will laugh at anything.
Still, though, James lets himself feel a little thrilled about it.
He starts taking off all the clothing with gentle, hesitant hands while he watches Ryan sidle up to Mark and start whispering. Probably about payment, which James tries not to let his stomach roll too much at. After all, he thinks, carefully unbuttoning the vest, how many times had Ryan told him not to worry about it? Wouldn't it be better for his sanity if he just listened?
He sighs, shucking off the vest. If he doesn't think about the cost, it'll be fine. It's just a one-time friendly thing that Ryan's doing, probably so James doesn't look like an idiot next to him and lose them the Oscar for being excessively underdressed. It's fine. It's not even anything.
James closes his eyes and feels vaguely like things are about to go terribly sideways for him.
His doorbell rings at ass o'clock in the night, jerking him awake. Jesus.
James stumbles out of bed, feeling around in the dark for his glasses until he finds them somewhere on his desk. He shoves them on, blinking against the all-encompassing blackness of his room, and walks forward until he hits a wall. He traces the walls with his hand and puts the other one out so he doesn't bump into anything.
Who the hell is at his door this early in the morning? Or this late at night? He has no idea what time it is, just that it's unreasonable. Unless someone is actively dying, he will kill whoever's fucking bothering him.
He manages his way into the living room, hitting the wall until he smacks the lights on. He only has warm lights but it still feels like getting flashbanged, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the light. Jesus.
"H'lo?" he says, voice still muddled with sleep as he opens the door. No one's there, though, just the moon and the stars and the trees. And James, who's had two good hours of sleep.
Did he just get… ding-dong-ditched or something? At what's probably three in the morning? Who the hell is even awake enough right now to do that? He lets out something that's a mix between a groan and sob, leaning against the doorframe. This is just unfair. He was in the middle of a really good dream too, he thinks, from what he can remember of it, and now he can't finish it because someone thought it was funny to ring his doorbell in the middle of the night. Has teenage comedy not evolved since, like, the 90s? It's too -
He looks down. There's a package.
…Ah.
But still, who the hell delivers packages this late at night? Doesn't USPS have firm working hours? Which are very notably during the daytime? You'd probably have to have your own personal messenger for someone to deliver something so late, or at least enough money to expedite shipping enough that they'd drive through the night to get to his house -
Oh. It's Ryan.
He sighs and picks up the box, which isn't very heavy despite the size. It's probably so big to avoid creasing, he assumes. He carries it inside, sets it on his table, and fishes his phone out of his pocket.
Was this you???
[picture attached]
You got the package!!
Ryan do you have any idea what time it is right now
Well it's 11 for me.
Oh no, did I wake you up?
Well you specifically did not wake me up
But yes
I was sleeping
I'm so sorry! I didn't know they delivered this late at night. I thought you'd just come home or something.
What kind of party animal do you take me for lol
You don't go to parties?
Well i don't stay at them until 2 am!!!
Fair enough.
Will you take the suit out? I want to make sure it arrived in one piece.
Yes alright okay
[picture attached]
There it is safe and sound
I will try it on after i get sleep
Yay! Send me pictures.
Kk
Despite his exhaustion, there's something warm and fizzy that starts to crackle in James' veins, just looking at the text. Send me pictures. It's stupid to feel so excited about, but… it means he has an excuse to text Ryan again. To talk to him again. He sounds crazy, yeah, he sounds. Well, he sounds like he's in love. But he's not! He just misses his friend. And it's hard to know when you can actually text your friend when said friend is Ryan Gosling.
He really has to stop thinking of him like that. He's just Ryan. Ryan, his normal, everyday friend, who just so happens to have enough money to buy him a suit that - James is still trying not to think about the cost of. Because any rich guy would do that for their friend, right? Yeah. Totally.
And this is where he's realizing that maybe he's a bit of an idiot; because warmth is spreading through his chest and he's grinning down at his phone, giddy, and he'd had a puppy crush on Ryan when they started filming that amounted to nothing more than hero worship - he'd gotten to know him and it'd gone away. Or so he thought, apparently. Because it hits him with the full force of a freight train that no, actually, it didn't go away, it just evolved from a puppy crush to a crush. He fucking like-likes Ryan.
James needs to get some fucking sleep.
The suit fits like a dream, and so James doesn't hear from Ryan for about another week. Which he isn't mad about. He doesn't even… care. Ryan's probably busy with work or auditions or whatever, and James is also busy with auditions and waiting for callbacks and grocery shopping, so it all works out. He's not waiting by his phone for Ryan to text him again, because he has a life, but if he was would it really be that bad?
He keeps the suit in a very special place in his closet where he can gaze upon its beauty at any point in the day. Because really, it's gorgeous. He's getting more used to having something so… extravagant? No, that's not the right word, but he can't think of the right word. Either way, he's getting used to it being in his house. Him owning it.
He's gotta stop being so giddy.
So it's a Friday morning, and he's out on a walk to this bakery he really likes, and it's a nice morning. There's a chill in the air but it's one that he can tell will die down by the afternoon - it stings his cheeks a little, but it's nice. Walking at any time in New York - but especially in the mornings - is nice, because he gets to people-watch while he goes about his day, which is about the most enriching thing he thinks anyone can do. He's people-watching and for some reason there are an abundance of couples walking in the morning, today, but it's not bothering him. He's having a great day, actually.
He has his headphones in, but as he pushes the bakery door open he takes one ear out so he can wave at the cashier and actually hear what she's saying. He comes here often enough that she knows what he wants - coffee and a buttered croissant - so she rings him up in about two minutes and sends him off to go curl up in a corner with his phone. He scrolls for a bit, but it's too early in the morning for him to really be fully invested in anything without getting a headache and a weird taste in his mouth. So he sets his phone down on the table and starts tapping at the wood, little rhythms that don't mean anything and he didn't get from anywhere, but -
Da-ding!
Huh?
Ryan: Silver or gold?
James swipes his phone open, wondering if he'd missed another text, but nope. Just that one question, those three words, completely out of nowhere. What?
??
Do you like silver or gold better?
Well i mean honestly
I'm partial to rose gold
Why??
Oh. I don't know if rose gold works with green but I could probably figure something out.
Ryan what on earth are you talking about
Nothing, don't worry about it. I just wanted to know!
Okay…
Well what do you prefer
Huh?
Silver or gold ry
Oh
It's not really important.
Maybe not to you but i wanna know now
Well… I like both, but I think I'm partial to silver.
Hmm
Then i guess if i had to pick i'd go with gold
What, to be contrarian?
Yeah, sure.
Good to know anyways.
Have a good day, James ❤️
A red heart!! A red heart?? James doesn't know how to respond to that - his chest just explodes into butterflies. Jesus, he feels like a teenage girl. You realize you like someone and suddenly you become a dysfunctional mess - well, more than he already was, anyways.
He leaves him on read. Which is maybe an asshole thing to do, but before James can think better of it his number's being called, and he can't really stand to look at the text anymore so he endeavors to forget about it. It'll be better for his mental health, anyways, and maybe Ryan will text him another arbitrary question in a couple more weeks and he can feel an adrenaline rush again.
He'll settle for coffee for now, though. It's really very good.
There's a package waiting outside James' door when he gets back home, which is concerning. He'd been out drinking with friends, something he hasn't done in really far too long, and they'd all agreed to just go home tipsy instead of staying and inevitably ordering more and more rounds. James is in his forties. He's a grown ass man now. If he actually wanted to get drunk, he would've gone to somebody's house, not a bar.
Anyways, the point is that he can't remember ordering anything? And he doesn't think that's just because of the drinks, either, because he's not that drunk. He crouches down to inspect the package, hissing as his back pangs with pain, but there's nothing on it that would identify anything. It's sleek, black, unassuming. There's no information on it - no address, no recipient, no sender. How does stuff like this even get through the post? Is James about to die?
Despite that unsettling thought, he's still curious. The box is easily openable, held shut with two circle tabs of tape and nothing else. It can't be anything too dangerous; it's a pretty small package, and James hasn't done anything to anyone that would make them want to kill him. He thinks. He hopes.
He takes it inside.
He fumbles a little with his keys and his coat, but it's nothing major. Is it unethical to be opening what's probably someone else's package? Yeah, probably, but sue him, he's curious.
He peels off the two little tabs of tape, pops the top of the box off. And - Jesus.
There's two rings and a pendant necklace inside, all gold. James hisses when he sees them, awed and flabbergasted at the same time. Who the fuck lives near him and can afford stuff like this? He inspects further, bringing the box up to his eyes so he can squint at the rings through his glasses. One ring is a plain gold band, but something seems to be engraved on the inside, and the other one has little vine engravings paired with a green stone. It's light green, a lighter green than is usually used for rings, implying that this might've been custom made, but who would custom make a ring with this shade of green? It rings a bit familiar and James flicks his eyes over it, searching for something that'll help remind him what exactly -
No.
It's not the wrong address, is it.
James fumbles for his phone, buried in his jacket pocket amidst stray wrappers and receipts. He haphazardly opens his messages, scrolling and clicking on Ryan's contact before snapping a shaky picture.
[picture attached]
Please tell me this wasn't you.
Hi James!
You got my package!
Ryan you're not serious
Do you like them? I wasn't sure what exactly you'd go for, but these reminded me of you.
I mean
Yeah they're nice i like them
But how much did they cost??
Doesn't matter. They're gifts.
Right and how many more gifts do you plan to buy me ryan
How many more do you want?
James' stomach flips. It's not a promise of anything - James hasn't even asked him for anything. But that's the thing. James hasn't even asked for anything and Ryan is already willing to buy it. He just feels… doted on. Like a trophy wife or something. Or a sugar baby, but that's actually and genuinely absurd. He doesn't know what he feels like, but he does know that the hairs on his arms are raising and something is starting to pool low in his gut.
That is no good. One might even say that it's all bad.
Get me the arkham asylum lego set and we'll talk.
James is making himself breakfast when the doorbell rings.
The box is sleek, black, and heavy. It rattles when he picks it up, like there are a bunch of tiny little parts in it. Two thousand nine hundred and fifty-three, to be exact.
Did you like it?
[picture attached]
I loved it
I didn't know you were serious
I'm always serious. Do you want anything else?
You're a fiend
The pin is small, innocuous. It looks like a comet, but James knows better. He knows it's supposed to be the Petrova Line. Ryan is adorably sentimental like that.
He can't imagine how much it must've cost. It looks harmless enough, but James knows Ryan. And James knows Ryan probably had it custom made. Just for him.
God, if that doesn't make his veins buzz.
Does your bank not find all this suspicious
You dropping hundreds of bucks every day I mean
Oh, they know better.
The 60's Batman boxset feels like it's a little much. James could've bought that himself. Also, he feels like he's being flanderized here - he's not that into Batman.
He's not gonna complain, though. A free DVD set is a free DVD set, and a gift from Ryan is…
Well. Saying it out loud would mean he's lost all his dignity.
How far in are you?
You know i should probably find it a little concerning that you think batman is the only thing i'm into
Well?
Oh alright i'm halfway through season one
Are you enjoying it?
Yes very much so
Great! I've been enjoying it too.
Are you watching it too???
…Rewatching.
The cologne smells just like Ryan. James doesn't know whether that's because Ryan just thinks he'd like the cologne, or because, you know… he knows. No matter how much James thinks about it, he can't puzzle out what Ryan's actually trying to get out of this. Leverage? Undying loyalty?
…Sex?
No, that's unrealistic. For all that he jokes about everyone in Hollywood being gay, he's really not sure Ryan swings that way. And even if he did, would he really go for James?
It doesn't bear pondering. It'd never happen, anyways. So if James sprays the cologne a couple times in his bedroom and comes in record time, well. Nobody needs to know.
Is this your cologne??
[picture attached]
Yes! How'd you know?
Well i did spend like four months hanging out with no one but you
You'd think i'd know
Fair.
Do you like it?
I don't know ryan
Awful presumptious of you to assume i would enjoy YOUR cologne
Maybe i like them a little more citrusy than this
Oh no! Do you? I can buy you something else if you want.
Hmm
Don't worry it's nothing!! I'll send you a couple options, just tell me what you like.
No no don't do that
I'm joking ryan
Oh
I love it it's great
Were you really scared??
A little.
Don't be i love all your gifts
Even though i think you should stop buying me so many
Never.
Why?????
Because!
Oh you think you're soooo funny
Well i'll get to the bottom of this
Mark my words
Marked.
It all comes crashing down on a Thursday.
James is tired, exhausted, even, laid up in bed. It's been a long week, he's tired, and more importantly, he's horny. It feels like his life has been so hectic lately he's barely gotten a moment to himself - much less any time to jerk off.
But now, everything is calm, if only for a moment. And he's really, really hard.
Ryan's cologne is on his bedside table, but he hasn't sprayed it. It worked well last time - almost too well, he'd come with barely two and a half tugs at himself, and he wants this to last longer. He wants to savor it.
His skin heats as he starts to grind against his palm. Nothing major, nothing even under his boxers, but the friction is already addictive. He tries not to think of anything in specific, tries to picture the vague - bulging muscles, low groans, wet lips - but it's hard. His mind seems to want one thing and one thing only.
He thinks of chewing gum, and then Ryan's sharp jawline. His hips buck up into his hand.
Oh, god.
He trails a hand upwards, up to his chest, where it rests on one of his pecs and starts to play with his nipple. His breath hitches. If someone were here…
If Ryan were here…
It's wrong to think about a friend like that, but that just makes him harder. Maybe he's a bad person. He can't stop thinking about what he'd do if Ryan were here, if Ryan's hands were on him, if Ryan was mouthing at his neck, fisting at his sheets, making little noises in tandem with him.
He wants Ryan's hands on his cock. He wants Ryan's lips on his cock - oh, god. Pink, thin lips wrapped around his cock, more wet and stretched out than they have any right to be, and the tears in his eyes - because James has seen tears in Ryan's eyes, though maybe in a different context - the tears in his eyes spilling over and running down his face, him choking on it -
Da-ding!
Oh, for fuck's sake!
James?
Yes what
How are you?
Fine
What
Oh, nothing that important.
I was about to go shopping, is there anything you wanted me to get?
Oh i don't know ryan
A dildo
He swipes his phone into Do Not Disturb, throwing it to the foot of the bed while he focuses his attention back on his cock. Where he'd expected to flag, though, he's leaking even more than he was before; and with burning embarrassment, he knows why. He squeezes at the base of his cock but his nerves are already on fire and he knows he's not going to last long. Fucking Ryan Gosling. He shuts his eyes and tugs faster, faster and faster and -
Ryan hasn't texted James in a month.
Which, looking back over the texts he'd sent, James understands. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
But it's… fine. James made a mistake. James ran his mouth because he was horny when he really should've thrown the phone across the room instead of to the foot of his bed. James will see Ryan at the Oscars in a few months and he will say hi and he will apologize profusely and Ryan will be undoubtedly very kind about it, but he will probably never talk to him again, which is… fine.
It's fine.
This is the mantra he repeats to himself every night as he's getting ready for bed, applying moisturizer after brushing his teeth and washing his face. It's fine. It's fine. It's fine.
He's wearing a loose, overlarge shirt, worn and with holes near the collar. Plus boxers. It's hot, sue him. He's not really that tired, today - in fact, he feels like he could run laps, but he's not gonna be the one to fuck up his sleeping schedule. Not when he's been on such a roll lately!
He rolls his neck, wincing. It hurts a little, but it's nothing sleep won't fix. Actually, he's been noticing aches in his body a lot more recently, which is weird because he hasn't really been doing anything strenous. One would think that it'd happen on set, when -
The doorbell rings.
James yawns, but he turns the light off in his bathroom before going into the living room and unlocking the door. It's not that late, but one has to wonder who's sending him packages. It almost reminds him of Ryan.
No one's there when he opens the door. So it is a package. He looks down, and…
It's black. It's a sleek, black, unassuming box, but he'd recognize it anywhere.
Ryan??
He picks it up. It's not exactly small, but it's not humongous either. He sets it down on his coffee table with a groan, goes back to close the door. And then, turning around, he stares at the box with his hands on his hips, squinting.
Surprise? Apology gift? A bomb?
Slowly, carefully, hesitantly, he walks over to the box. It could be a bomb. You never know. He slides his fingernails under the tabs of tape, lifts the top off. Peers inside.
His face blanches.
That is not a bomb. That is a dildo.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He fumbles for his phone before remembering it's not on him, it's in his bedroom, which means he has to make a mad dash to the bedroom, unplug his phone, and then run back into the living room as if the - the box will disappear if he's away for too long. Which, of course, it doesn't, but James is still shocked.
[picture attached]
WAS THIS YOU
Yes. Did you like it?
Ryan you have not talked to me in a MONTH
AND I WAS NOT BEING SERIOUS
Oh.
Have we really not talked in that long? I didn't realize.
Yes ryan
We have not talked in over a month
Why is that
I didn't want to text you until you got the gift.
And it took a month to get here?
Well, no.
Then WHAT
I… wanted to pick a good one?
I've never really bought sex toys before. I tried to find one that had a lot of features.
So, one: you did not need to do that
You could've just said no
Two: what do you mean features
Like, vibration… and stuff…
Okay.
Okay?
There HAS to be something i can do to pay you back at this point
This is like
Unreasonable
You don't need to do that! I'm just doing a friend a favor!
With all due respect
I don't know if the standards are different in hollywood
But i would never ever buy my ol buddy chum pal a dildo
Just because he asked
What do you want from me????
Seriously! Nothing!!!
There has to be something
I will do literally anything ryan i swear
At this, Ryan goes silent. James watches as the chat bubble appears, then disappears, appears, disappears, and appears again, until, after much deliberation on Ryan's part (or so it seems):
Would you let me watch?
James' heart annoyingly skips a beat. Or, more accurately, his breath gets caught in his throat and he chokes.
Like
Watch me jerk off?
Yeah
I wanna watch you use it.
James stares at his phone, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. There is no way this is happening to him right now. He's in a dream. A fever dream that strangely involves a lot of texting and not a lot of Ryan in his house, but they can't all be winners, right?
Please?
Oh my god yes yes okay
I mean yes sure
Let me take it out of the box and then you can call me?
Or i can call you i don't know
Why don't you call me? You can be as prepared as you want. I don't mind any way.
Ryan's nice, but James would like to see him yesterday, so. He opens the packaging and pulls out a pink dildo - it's basic, but Ryan had mentioned features, so who really gives a fuck about the color? The prize in his hands, he takes his phone and rushes into his bedroom, propping it up on one of his extra pillows. He's got lube in his bedside drawer - he yanks it out, pops open the cap before he calls Ryan.
The phone rings once, twice, and then Ryan picks up. It's a video call, so James tries to angle the phone where Ryan can see as much of his body as possible. His face isn't in it, though - getting that much would require a pornstar setup.
"Can you see me okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," Ryan says, and he sounds a little breathless. James grins to himself. He shucks his shirt up and off his body, throws it across the room where it lands in a heap somewhere. Then, slowly, carefully, he starts to inch his boxers down. Ryan's breath speeds up and it's audible, somehow - James can't tell how close to the phone he is. He's not really looking. His eyes are closed as his boxers create the most delicious friction on his dick, friction he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from moaning at. He doesn't wanna give Ryan all that yet.
Finally, his cock springs out from his boxers, and Ryan gives a choked off little whine. James barely even hears it.
"This good? You like this?" he asks.
"You're big," Ryan says. Awed, maybe.
"Aw, you're too kind," James laughs. He's already stupidly hard, but he leaves it for now. Instead, he takes the bottle of lube next to him and squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers. Ryan gasps. It goes straight to James' dick.
He teases his hole a bit, circling a finger around the rim in a way that makes his breath stutter, before slowly, carefully, he pushes in. He hasn't done this in a while, and he moans lowly at the sensation - not quite unfamiliar, but a little forgotten.
"Does that feel good?" Ryan asks.
"Really good," James groans as he starts to move. Still just shallow little thrusts, still adjusting. "Wish it was you, though."
"You -" Ryan chokes. It's so easy to fluster him. James knows he shouldn't find it cute, but it's cute.
"Want your fingers inside me," he continues, pumping in a little deeper every time, a little harder. "Want you here with me. I wish you were here with me."
"I will be," Ryan promises. "Next time, I will be."
Next time?! James bites his lip and tries not to whine at the prospect of a next time. He slows his hand down, deliberately slowing his breathing as well as he closes his eyes and starts to inch a second finger in as well.
"You're doing really well," Ryan says.
"Am I?" James asks. "Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes," Ryan hisses, like he's - jacking himself off.
"Are you jacking off?"
"Yeah," he says. "You're hot, James. Of course I am."
Oh, of course, he says. You tell James from about an hour ago that Ryan thinks he's hot with two fingers up his ass and he'd probably punch you in the face. But of course. James rolls his eyes.
He scissors his fingers a little wider, the muscle starting to loosen up. He lets out breathy little moans, head feeling hazy already. The dildo, which is directly in his line of sight but not the camera's, is thick. It's not so thick he thinks it'll split him in half, but it sure looks big, if not exactly the longest. So he has to prep himself good.
It's fine. Ryan seems to be enjoying the show.
Ryan is making all sorts of noises, growing louder and louder as James fingers himself open. His hole is a mess and he hasn't even used the dildo yet - he's all wet and messy, hole sucking himself in quicker and quicker every time. It's almost unbelievable how quickly he's opening up, and he adds in a third finger with what feels like barely any resistance - or maybe that's his horny brain talking. Either way, his eyelids start to flutter as he moves his hand.
He starts to curl his fingers a bit, searching. There's a certain spot that he has to find every time, one that instantly makes his whole body feel like jelly, and at the perfect angle it makes him see stars, almost. He pushes in at a different angle every time, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't find it.
S'alright. He's ready, anyways.
He slips out, whining a bit at the loss, but he grabs the dildo.
"Damn," Ryan whistles.
"You bought it, why are you acting surprised?"
"Nothing, s'just… bigger than I thought it'd be."
"Right," James snorts. "How do you want me?"
"Hm?"
"What position, Ryan? This was your request. I'd be remiss if I didn't ask you how you wanna see me."
"O-Oh," Ryan stammers. "Um - however you want, James. I just wanna see you feel good."
For some reason, those words send a jolt of arousal through James, and a moan is punched out of him. Whatever he wants. Ryan wants him whatever way, Ryan just wants him.
James stays lying on his back. It's easier - he doesn't wanna turn over and readjust the camera and himself, and it gives his hand better access, anyways. He grabs blindly for the bottle of lube again, pouring a copious amount on the dildo and slicking it up. Just his hand sliding up and down the dildo makes heat start to pool low in his gut, and he takes a shaky breath. He positions the toy in front of his hole, the tip pushing slightly against the now loosened ring of muscle.
"You're doing so well," Ryan praises, and it hits James like a freight train. He pushes into himself, going excruciatingly slow just to make sure he doesn't hurt himself, and it is so, so thick.
"Shit!" He gets past the tip, and he already feels so full. His cock bobs in the air, unattended but leaking anyways. He feels dirty. Filthy. He keeps pushing in anyways. He can't stop himself from making sound now, groaning and whining as it goes in deeper and deeper, stretching him out.
"You look so good, James," Ryan says, his voice strained. "You sound so good. Keep making those noises for me, just like that."
"'Kay," James pants. "Fuck - so thick -"
When it bottoms out, James feels like he's been punched in the gut.
It's so filling. It's everywhere. He has the urge to press down on his stomach just to feel it better, but he has a feeling he'd come on the spot. He's already dangerously close, and he hasn't even started moving. He feels heady, like he could float away if it weren't for the toy inside him weighing him down. Ryan weighing him down.
And god, the feeling of Ryan watching him is… it's unreal. He starts to move the dildo, little thrusts that barely even move but they feel like heaven anyways. He pants in time with the thrusts, and he can hear Ryan's bitten off moans through the speaker.
"This what you wanted?" James asks again.
"Huh - yeah, you know it is," Ryan whines.
"No, that's not - not what I mean," he stutters. "I mean - when - when you were buying me all those gifts. Was - was this what you wanted?"
"Fuck, James."
"When you - flew me out to LA, put me in - in all those suits - you didn't - fuck, shit - you didn't just wanna see me look good at the fuckin' Oscars."
"I did, I do, James," he insists.
"No, I know you do, Ry." He thrusts inside himself again, angling the toy a little lower this time. "But you really wanted to see me look good like this, didn't you?"
It hits the right spot. James' back arches off his bed, shouting at the sensation. It's like his nerves are on fire.
"Yeah, yeah, baby, shit," Ryan babbles, "and you look so good, so much better than I imagined."
"Ghk - fuck -" he chokes. "Buy me - whatever I want, right?"
"Whatever you want."
"You'd spend a million dollars if it meant you got - got to see me like this again, right?"
"Yes, yes, I would," Ryan whines, and James can hear the slick sound of his hand pumping at his own cock, wet and messy and obscene. "I'll spend whatever you want. I'll get you whatever you want, baby."
"Whatever I want… fuck -" He thrusts harder now, and faster, too. Somehow, he needs to get it deeper. He wants it so badly, he wants Ryan to see how well he can fuck himself with it. "Anything and everything, g-god. You're just gagging for it, huh?"
Ryan says no words, but he moans so high pitched into the phone he almost sounds like a girl. James shudders, sweat beading on his chest. He has an idea, then - if Ryan really wants to see him so bad. He hooks an arm under his knee, pulls it up to his chest in a feat of flexibility he hardly knew he still had in him. The dildo shifts, presses deeper into him, and he moans, loud.
"Oh, god, James," Ryan breathes.
"Can - can you see me better?"
"Shit, you look so good."
Tears pool in the corners of James' eyes at the feeling of the toy, pressing up into him. "You getting your money's worth? Is this what you paid for?"
"Fuck," Ryan sobs.
"God, you're - you're worse than those OnlyFans subscribers, Ryan," James snorts.
"What?" Ryan laughs, but his voice is frayed.
"Those guys only have to pay, like, fifty bucks. You - shit! - you paid - hah! - like a thousand."
"And look at you, baby, you were worth all that money," Ryan pants.
James wets at his lips, biting at them as he works the toy, trying to hit that spot again and again. Ryan's moans over the speaker are keeping his dick achingly hard, each little noise sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. And then -
"Y'know - why it took so damn long to ship?" Ryan asks. James doesn't answer, and Ryan doesn't wait for one. "Had to get it just perfect for you, James. You know that, yeah?"
"Yeah - I - I know," James replies, breath stuttering.
"I didn't want anybody's dick inside you that wasn't worth it. Didn't want that dildo to be anybody's but mine."
Through the hazy cloud over his head, James doesn't understand what Ryan's saying for a moment - and then he does, and his whole body jerks.
"Ryan - !" he chokes.
"Took them a long time to make - shit, you look so good, James. I - I think they got it pretty accurate. What - whatdyou think?"
"This - yours?" he asks.
"Yeah, 's mine. My dick. Didn't want anyone else's inside you. I don't want anyone else inside you ever again, yeah?"
"Shit - Ryan!"
"I can tell you feel so good - you feel so good, don't you?"
"It's so good, so good, Ry, shit, fuck -"
"I knew you would, I knew my dick would feel that good, like you were made for it, right? Think I was made for you, wanna be in you so bad, James, it should be me fucking you right now, can you feel me inside you? Can you -"
Ryan keeps talking, but James is gone. The earth practically stops spinning as his nerves explode, vision going to static as he bucks up into nothing. His dick pulses as he shoots all over himself, onto his stomach and the stray drop falling onto his chest, too. It might be the hardest he's ever come in his life - it just doesn't stop. And the whole way through, Ryan is talking, babbling, and he might be coming, too, and James hopes he is. Hopes they're coming at the same time despite the distance.
When he comes back to himself - because yes, that was an out of body experience - his torso is all sticky and drying, chest heaving.
"That was… really good," James pants.
"Mhm," Ryan agrees. "I thought it would be."
"You seriously need to stop buying me stuff, though," he says, and as Ryan starts to protest: "I'm a grown ass man. I can handle myself."
"…Fine."