Kay

You shift closer, the mattress dipping under your weight, and he stirs just enough to crack one eye open. Blue, bloodshot from the night before, but clear enough when they land on you. His lips curve slow, sleepy, amused. “Morning, babe,” he mumbles, voice rough gravel from cigarettes and whiskey. He doesn’t move more than that, just lets his gaze wander over you, the thin strap of your tank top sliding off your shoulder, the bare curve of your thigh brushing his. He exhales, deep and heavy, then lets his eyes fall shut again like he knows you’ll take what you want.

And you do.

You swing a leg over his, settling astride his thigh, the muscle beneath him warm and firm even in his half-asleep sprawl. His skin is hot under the thin cotton of his boxers, and you can already feel the faint tension there, the weight of his body not fully relaxed now that you’re pressed to him. His eyes flicker open again as your hips sink down, grinding lightly just to test, and that grin sharpens into something wicked.

“Fuck, you’re needy this morning,” he mutters, voice cracking into a laugh, and his hand comes up automatically, rough palm finding the curve of your ass and squeezing. He’s still barely awake but the reflex is pure muscle memory—Ryan touching you without thinking, Ryan guiding you into place like you’re meant to be there.

You roll your hips again, slow and teasing, the damp heat between your thighs catching against the fabric of his boxers. The friction sparks through you, sharp enough to make you gasp, and his laugh dies into a groan. “Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded now, watching the way your body moves against him. “Ride it. Show me how bad you want it.”

The words land in you like a jolt, and you obey without hesitation. You rock forward harder, the pressure of his thigh hitting right where you need it, the rough drag of fabric against your clit making your eyes flutter shut. The sheet twists under your fists as you find a rhythm, grinding down and forward, back and again, each stroke hotter, wetter, the sound of your breath growing ragged in the quiet room.

Ryan props himself up on one elbow, hair falling into his face, his eyes locked on you like he can’t believe how lucky he is to wake up like this. He bites his lip, then lets it slip free with a low “mmm, fuck,” as his other hand drifts up your thigh, fingers splayed wide, calloused pads scraping your skin. He doesn’t guide you yet—he just lets you take what you want, watching with that lazy hungry look like the sight of you using him is enough to get him hard on its own.

The pressure builds fast, too fast, the combination of morning sensitivity and the raw grind of cotton against your soaked core making your body tremble. You chase it anyway, riding him harder, letting the steady firmness of his thigh give you everything. Each drag is sharper, wetter, a messy rhythm of slick fabric and desperate gasps. Your head tips back, hair falling across your face, and Ryan’s hand slips up to grab a fistful, tugging gently so your throat arches.

“Look at you,” he groans, voice hoarse, breath fanning hot against your neck as he pulls you down closer. His beard scratches your skin as he mouths at your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly before he sucks at the spot, leaving you marked. “Grinding on me like you can’t wait… gonna come just from my fuckin’ thigh, huh?”

The filthy tease makes your hips snap harder, the words sinking into you like gasoline on flame. Your clit throbs against the steady pressure, every nerve raw, every stroke sending sparks through your belly. Your moans spill out unchecked now, loud and broken, wet little whimpers that only make him groan louder.

“Jesus, babe, keep making those sounds—fuck, you’re soaking me.” His fingers dig into your ass, finally taking control, dragging you harder against him, forcing your cunt to grind against the exact spot that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

You couldn’t if you tried. Your body is shaking now, thighs quivering as you ride his leg like it’s the only thing that matters, slick spreading across the thin cotton of his boxers, every motion sloppy and desperate. Ryan’s voice is in your ear, low and rough, telling you how hot you look, how good you feel, how he wants to watch you fall apart just like this. His words tumble over each other, groans and curses tangled with praise, until you’re not sure what’s real and what’s just the sound of your own heartbeat hammering in your skull.

The orgasm rips through you sudden and sharp, stealing your breath, your body jerking against him as the pressure finally shatters. You cry out, long and raw, grinding down hard as you ride the wave, stars exploding behind your eyes. Your cunt pulses even with nothing inside you, soaking his thigh, your entire body trembling with the force of it. Ryan holds you tight, hand tangled in your hair, other hand gripping your ass, groaning like he’s the one coming just from feeling you fall apart on him.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it—that’s it, ride it out, let me feel it,” he growls, pulling you down harder against him until you’re gasping, moaning into his chest, your body wracked with aftershocks. He doesn’t let you go until your hips slow, until your forehead drops against his collarbone and your breath stutters against his skin.

“Holy fuck,” you simply mutter, having nothing else to say, too overwhelmed and sensitive. Your breath still comes in shallow stutters against his chest, the last tremors flickering through your body, muscles weak and satisfied in that boneless way that makes you want to sink back into sleep. But Ryan doesn’t give you the chance. His hand slides down between your bodies, rough fingers tugging at the damp waistband of his boxers, shifting you slightly so you can feel the blunt heat of him pressing against your stomach. He groans, low and urgent, the sound vibrating against your cheek where it rests against his collarbone.

“Feel that?” he mutters, voice thick with need, breath warm against your hair. “Been watching you ride me like a fuckin’ goddess—now you’ve got me so hard I could break.”

You lift your head, still dazed, eyes heavy but drawn to the sight as he shoves his boxers down with one hand, freeing his cock. It springs up hard against his stomach, flushed red at the tip, slick already beading. The contrast between your soft, quivering body and the sheer demand of him makes your pulse spike again.

His eyes catch yours, half-hooded but burning. “C’mon, baby. Don’t just look at it. You’re not done yet.”

Before you can answer, he’s shifting his grip, sliding his hands under your thighs and guiding you forward, angling your hips until the head of his cock nudges against your soaked entrance. The wetness from grinding on his thigh makes it effortless, the slide sticky and hot. You moan, high and sharp, your body clenching automatically as the blunt pressure threatens to split you open.

Ryan’s laugh rumbles in his chest, dirty and tender all at once. “Yeah, that’s it. Gonna slide right in. Gonna make you feel me everywhere.”

You sink down slowly, the stretch immediate, raw, your walls parting inch by inch around him. The sensation is almost too much after the orgasm you just had, every nerve still hypersensitive, the burn mixing with overwhelming pleasure until you’re whimpering, clutching at his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans, head tipping back against the pillow, veins standing out in his neck. His hands grip your hips so tight you know you’ll bruise, dragging you lower until he’s fully seated inside you, the thick weight of him filling every space. “Tightest fuckin’ thing in the world, baby… holy shit.”

You can’t speak—your mouth hangs open, sound spilling out in helpless moans as you try to adjust, your body stretching around him. The sun has shifted higher now, beams of gold cutting across the sheets, lighting up the sweat on both your skin, making the moment feel too bright, too alive, like the whole world has collapsed into this one bed.

When you finally start to move, lifting and dropping slowly on his cock, the sensation borders on unbearable. Each glide drags against your swollen clit, the aftershocks sparking again, your pussy gripping him like it can’t let go. Ryan’s eyes roll back, then snap open again to watch every single inch disappear into you, his chest heaving, his jaw tight.

“Yeah, baby, ride me. Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he groans, voice rough, his words spilling unchecked. “Bouncing on my cock first thing in the morning—goddamn, I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Your rhythm builds, hips finding that messy pace between desperation and control. The wet slap of your bodies fills the room now, obscene and perfect, mixing with your moans and his grunts. You lean forward, pressing your hands to his chest for leverage, riding him harder, the head of his cock dragging against every sweet spot inside you until your vision blurs.

He sits up suddenly, arm snaking around your back, mouth crashing into yours. The kiss is wet, teeth clashing, all tongue and groaned curses into your mouth as he thrusts up to meet your movements. The added force makes you cry out, breaking the kiss with a strangled gasp as he slams deeper, hitting a place so good you nearly collapse against him.

“Yeah, you feel that?” he growls into your ear, breath hot and filthy. “Taking me so deep you’re seeing stars, huh? Bet you’re gonna come again. Bet you can’t hold it.”

You shake your head, but it’s useless. He’s right. The pressure coils sharp and fast again, your body dragging you toward it whether you want it or not. His hand slips down between you, thumb finding your clit, rubbing rough circles that make your hips jerk and your cry split the air.

The orgasm crashes harder this time, tearing through you with white-hot intensity. Your whole body locks, then convulses around him, cunt pulsing tight as you scream his name, nails digging into his shoulders. He curses, eyes squeezed shut, fucking up into you through it, gritting his teeth as your walls milk his cock.

“Fuckfuckfuck, baby, squeeze me just like that,” he pants, his own control breaking as he drives harder, faster, chasing his release. The bed creaks under you both, the sunlight a blur through your tears, everything collapsing into sensation.

With a guttural moan he slams in deep and holds, cock twitching inside you as he spills hot, thick, filling you completely. He buries his face in your neck, groaning your name into your skin as his body shudders against yours. His grip on your hips tightens almost painfully, grounding himself in you as he empties, his cock jerking with every pulse of his orgasm.

The world goes silent in the aftermath except for your shared ragged breathing. You slump against him, bodies slick with sweat, cum already dripping down your thighs, the sheets ruined beneath you. The fan still hums lazily above, the morning light now flooding the room in relentless brightness, but none of it matters.

Ryan tilts his head back, sucking in air, then presses a kiss to your temple, sloppy and lingering. “Holy shit, babe,” he murmurs, voice hoarse but full of awe. “If every morning was like this, I’d never get out of bed again.”

“So, are you guys in love or not?” Bam inquired.

You’d suddenly began to regret the borderline lecture you’d given him on the ups and downs of your not-really-a-relationship-relationship with his best friend.

You told Bam about the time that Ryan had come to your house when you were sick, with medicine and at least attempted to try and make you something to eat. You told him about the times that Ryan held you and kissed you like nobody ever had before.

But you also told him about the time that Ryan ignored your calls for a week with no explanation.

So, the answer you gave to Bam about whether you and Ryan were “In love or not” could be one of a thousand answers. You could tell him what you thought the answer to that question was last week, or yesterday, or right now. They were all on a spectrum, ranging from rosy pink to dead black.

You rolled Bam’s splintered board left to right with your resting ankles, trying to distract yourself from thinking too hard about Ryan.

“Well?” Bam demanded.

You blinked your eyes savagely hard. “No. We’re not in love.”

Bam leaned back, and I thought for a second he was going to protest. “Alright. But does he know that?”

You ignored what Bam said, and said your goodbyes to him before giving him a quick, pathetically weak hug.

You told yourself you weren’t walking to Ryan’s house for any particular reason. Maybe just to clear your head. Maybe to prove to Bam that he was wrong, and you two could just be allowed to have a summer fling and be friends.

Ryan’s front door was unlocked, like always. You stepped inside without knocking, knowing he wouldn’t give a fuck, and saw him sprawled on the couch.

The TV glow shone against his skin, casting coloured shadows over his face. He looked up at the sound of the door closing, squinting at you like he wasn’t sure if you were real.

“You lost or something?” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a while.

You crossed your arms. “No. Just thought I’d stop by.”

Ryan sat up and stretched, the hem of his white t-shirt lifting up to show a sliver of skin. His eyes were very tired, but he smirked. “Yeah? Or did you just come over to crawl into my bed?”

You sighed. “No.”

Ryan was studying you. His gaze had that intensity that made your skin prickle, like he could see straight through you. You hated that. You hated the way he could make you feel so obvious.

“I saw Bam earlier,” you admitted, stepping inside. “He asked me if we were in love.”

Ryan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Oh yeah? And what’d you say?”

You swallowed. “I said no.”

Ryan’s smirk fell for just a second. Then he nodded, tongue running over his bottom lip like he was thinking something over.

“Cool,” he muttered. “Good to know.”

Something about his tone pissed you off. It was like he knew that you wanted him to ask why you said no. So he gave you absolutely nothing.

“It’s true, no?” you pressed, hating the way your voice sounded. Like you were asking instead of stating a fact.

Ryan shrugged. “I dunno. You tell me.” His voice was lower now. “You’re the one who keeps showing up at my house to get in my pants.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t start that shit.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “What shit, (Y/N)?”

“Acting like I’m the only one who—“ You broke off.

Ryan scanned you up and down for a minute, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. Without warning, he reached out, grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer. You let him, even though you should have pulled away.

His grip was loose, but enough to keep you grounded next to him on the couch.

“Well, if you’re not in love with me, why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Your pulse spiked. “Like what?”

Even though his lips twitched, there was no humour in it. “Like you’re waiting for me to prove you wrong.”

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve laughed, rolled your eyes, anything to break the tension that had settled so thick between you. But you didn’t.

“I’m not waiting for anything,” you murmured, but it came out weaker than you wanted.

Ryan exhaled a quiet laugh. His thumb brushed once over your wrist before he let go. You hated the feeling of its absence immediately.

“Yeah?” he muttered, leaning back again. “Then why are you still here?”

You really should’ve left. You should’ve left some snarky comment behind you and walked out before you let him get to you. But you stayed. Because you always do.

Because no matter how many times Ryan ignored your calls, or pulled himself back as soon as you thought he was letting you in, no matter how many times he made you feel like you were chasing something you could never catch. You wound up right back at his door.

“Maybe I just like making sure you’re still alive,” you muttered.

Ryan smirked, tilting his head toward you. “You think about me that much?”

Your stomach twisted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But now he was watching you, and it wasn’t casual. His eyes flicked all over you, and you felt so aware of yourself, your crossed legs on his sofa, the way your hair fell, whatever way your hands sat. You wondered if what you were doing was weird or wrong. Of course it wasn’t, but the way he stared made you so conscious.

It was classic Ryan fashion actually. He didn’t like being the first one to break. He liked pushing people, waiting for them to crack. But for the first time ever, you weren’t breaking.

He shifted towards you, closing the space between you before you could even think too hard about it. His leg pressed up against yours, warm through the denim. His fingers found their way to your hair, featherlight, but intentional.

“So, if I were to fuck you right now, and it be the last time, you wouldn’t care?”

You should’ve said yes, or laughed, or maintained that you did truly believe this whole arrangement was nothing, and most surely not love. But when he pulled your head forward, you didn’t move away.

His fingers curled against the back of your neck, he was giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You didn’t.

Ryan let out a breath, maybe relief, maybe something different. Finally, his lips met yours.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was a kiss that didn’t leave any room for doubt, like he was trying to erase every time either of you had ever pretended like this meant nothing. His hand slid up, tangling into your hair, pulling you closer, like he was asking you to stop him.

You just kissed him back just as hard.

Because this was how it always went down . You’d say to yourself it didn’t mean anything, that it was just a summer fling, that you weren’t in love, but the second Ryan touched you, none of that mattered.

His other hand grazed your waist, fingertips pressing just enough to make your breath stop. He smirked against your mouth, like he noticed, like he knew.

Cocky bastard.

You pushed at his shoulder, just enough to push him back against the couch. “You’re such an asshole,” you muttered, breathless.

Ryan grinned. “You say that every time.”

You stared at him, chest still rising and falling too fast. His hair was messy, his lips slightly swollen, and you hated how he looked so relaxed while you were still desperately trying to catch up.

“Because it’s true,” you whispered back.

Ryan just tilted his head, still smirking. He reached out, hooking his finger through the belt loop of your jeans, not pulling, just holding.

“You still leaving?” he asked, voice low.

Maybe it was the right idea .

But you weren’t going anywhere.

Ryan didn’t say any more. He didn’t have to, really. His finger stayed hooked in your belt loop, a loose, lazy hold, because he knew you weren’t pulling away.

You grabbed his face, pulling him into another kiss, rougher this time, teeth grazing his bottom lip just to feel him react. He did, with a sharp inhale through his nose, his hands finally gripping your waist like he’d been holding himself back.

You felt him move underneath you, pressing up against you, and suddenly the couch felt too small, too uncomfortable, too not enough. Ryan felt it too, because in seconds, he was pulling you up, dragging you with him as he stood, hands steadfast at your hips.

His mouth didn’t leave yours as he backed you toward his room.

You knew how to get from his couch to his living room, eyes closed and backwards with muscle memory. You barely noticed the path you took,only that Ryan’s hands never left your skin. His fingers curled under your shirt, dragging it up, and you let him, raising your arms just long enough for him to pull it off.

Ryan smiled at the sight of you, then leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Still not in love with me?”

You exhaled sharply, pushing at his chest, not to shove him away, just to make him shut up. He only laughed, but before he could say anything else, you pulled him down onto the bed with you.

You'd come home after a long day at work, drained and wanting nothing more than to fall into your boyfriends arms. As soon as you were in the door, Ryan could see the exhaustion on your face, getting up to meet you halfway as you melted into him. "Long day, huh?" He asked, rubbing soft circles on your back. "You don't even know the half of it." You huffed out, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

"Let me take care of you." He picked you up. carrying you to your room. He set you down on the bed, kneeling above you and placing a gentle kiss on your lips as his hands moved down your body, peeling your clothes off slowly, making sure to caress every bit of exposed skin as he went. He sat up, soaking in the view before him. "You're gorgeous."

As soon as those words left his mouth, his lips were on yours again, hands wandering over your naked form. You melted into him, every touch making your skin feel like it was on fire. Your hands tangled in his golden locks, pushing him down gently which pulled a light chuckle out of him. His lips moved lower, trailing open mouthed kisses down your neck and chest.

His tongue swirled around your nipple, rolling the other one between his fingers. A soft moan slipped from your lips as he sucked it into his mouth, his beard scratching against your sensitive skin. You pushed his hair out of his face, his bright eyes meeting yours. He smiled up at you, his mouth still on your skin, and you ruffled his hair lovingly, a soft gesture in the midst of a heated moment.

He continued his journey down, peppering soft kisses across your stomach, fingers trailing your thighs. As he came dangerously close to your crotch, he hooked his arms under your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, his face now barely an inch from your pussy. His eyes met yours again, a gleaming smile painting his face before his mouth connected with your pussy.

His pace was slow, kissing it gently, the combination of saliva and your wetness making obscene noises which only turned you on more. His tongue darted out, licking long stripes down your lips and swirling around your clit. He reached his hands up to fondle your breasts, circling the nipples with his fingers. His soft lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently as your grip in his hair tightened.

You could feel him smiling against you, proud of the effect he was having on you. His hands wrapped around your thighs again, holding you in place before shoving his tongue into you. You bucked your hips hopelessly, his strong arms holding you down as he fucked you with his tongue. The symphony of moans leaving your mouth was music to Ryan's ears, encouraging him to keep going.

One of his hands left your thigh to rub fast circles on your clit as he kept his pace up, making you see stars. You looked down at him, only to see him already looking up at you with sparkling eyes. The image of your boyfriend's face buried between your legs pushed you over the edge, moaning out his name as you came on his tongue.

Your body went slack and his lips finally disconnected from your pussy, sitting up and wiping his face with his hands before placing a loving kiss on your lips. You could feel the wetness on his beard as it scratched your chin, but you didn't mind.

"Feelin' any better now, princess?"

Ryan manspreads on the armchair, eyes closed, head back, arms folded. In was in moments like these, where he looked…real, that truly made you smile. He took rhythmic deep breaths, in and out, in and out, and all you could do was stare.

His eyes blink open and he looks over at you. He wasn’t asleep, just relaxing.

“Well hello. How long have you been standing there for?”

“Not long enough,” you smile.

Ryan smirks, motioning you over with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice a little raspy from his relaxed state. You move closer, and before you can react, he gently pulls you down onto his lap.

"You look too comfortable over here," you tease, settling in against him.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Well, it’s hard not to be.”

You lean in close, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "You’re so pretty, you know that?"

Ryan rolls his eyes, the slightest flush creeping up his neck. “I’m not—”

Another kiss lands, this time closer to the corner of his mouth. "Yes, you are. So pretty."

He shifts a little, trying to hide his smile. “Stop…”

But you don’t. You pepper his face with gentle kisses, each one paired with a whispered compliment. "Gorgeous." A kiss. "Handsome." Another kiss. "Perfect."

Ryan huffs out a laugh, his hands coming up to lightly hold your waist. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, though his gaze softens as you continue.

“You just don’t know how to take a compliment,” you murmur between kisses, smiling as he finally gives in, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and affection.

“Well… I guess I’m a little flattered,” he admits, his arms tightening around you as he leans his forehead against yours.

Ryan’s hands rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, absent-minded circles as he leans his head back against the chair, watching you with a soft, almost shy smile.

“See?” You press another kiss to his temple, your voice playful. “It’s not so bad being called pretty.”

His smile widens, but he shakes his head, still clearly trying to fight off his embarrassment. “I’m not pretty. Guys aren’t supposed to be pretty.”

You tilt your head, feigning contemplation as you trace your fingertips along his jawline, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch. “Well, maybe you’re not ‘supposed’ to be,” you agree, “but you are. Just deal with it.”

Ryan laughs softly, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you a little closer. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, I definitely am,” you admit without hesitation, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose this time. “I could do this all day.”

He groans dramatically, rolling his eyes, but there’s no hiding the fact that he’s completely content. “You’re really something else, you know that?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a fondness beneath it.

“And you’re the prettiest man I’ve ever met,” you fire back, meeting his gaze with a grin.

Ryan opens his mouth, clearly about to protest again, but you cut him off with another kiss—this one lingering a little longer on his lips. He’s momentarily caught off guard, but he quickly recovers, his lips moving gently against yours in a soft, slow rhythm.

When you finally pull back, he’s looking at you like you’ve just stolen his breath. “Okay,” he says quietly, his voice low and a little husky. “Maybe I’ll let you win this one.”

Eventually, Ryan’s phone buzzes, pulling both of you out of the cozy bubble you’ve created. He glances down at it with a small sigh. “I’ve gotta head out soon,” he says, his voice reluctant.

You frown. “Where are you off to?”

“Bam wanted to meet up for a drink,” he replies, gently shifting you off his lap. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

You pout playfully. “Leaving me for Bam? I’m heartbroken.”

Ryan chuckles, standing up and stretching before leaning down to plant one last kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon enough.”

He grabs his jacket, tossing you one last look before heading out the door, leaving you with a smile that lingers long after he’s gone.

When Ryan walks into the bar to meet Bam, he feels the cool evening air still lingering on his skin. Bam is already sitting at a table, nursing a drink, and when he spots Ryan, a laugh escapes his mouth.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Bam greets, standing to give Ryan a quick pat on the shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

Ryan chuckles, taking a seat across from him. “Yeah, yeah, blame (Y/N). She wouldn’t let me leave without some lovin’ first.”

“Oh, trust me, I can tell,” Bam says, eyes glinting with amusement.

Ryan frowns, confused. “What do you mean?”

Bam points at his own face, gesturing to his cheeks and forehead. “Dude, you’re covered.”

Ryan’s brow furrows, and he looks at himself in the mirror above the bar. His eyes widen as he sees what Bam’s talking about—his face is littered with faint marks from your lip gloss, smudges of shimmer catching the light in different spots. His cheeks, his temples, even the tip of his nose—all kissed.

“Aw, hell,” Ryan mutters, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand, but it only seems to spread the gloss around. Bam laughs, slapping the table. “Dude, you’ve been walking around with kiss marks all over your face.“

Ryan lets out a dry laugh, finally giving up on cleaning his face. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”