[Video Enabled]
Author: savingprivatesimmons.tumblr.com
Recipient:Â ludomoose.tumblr.com
Summary:Â Three months. Ninty one days. There were two-thousand one-hundred and eighty-four hours between his flights, to be exact. Jon had counted. That was how long he was going to be away from Ryan. The biggest downfall to being the best reporter the Daily LS Times had ever seen was the fact that his boss liked to fly him out to other states for jobs, and this opportunity was one of the biggest heâd ever been given. Of course he was going to take it, even if it meant being away from his boyfriend for so long.
Warnings:Â NSFW (no other warnings apply)
Word Count:Â 4,248
Three months.
Ninty one days.
There were two-thousand one-hundred and eighty-four hours between his flights, to be exact. (Jon had counted.) That was how long he was going to be away from Ryan.
The biggest downfall to being the best reporter the Daily LS Times had ever seen was the fact that his boss liked to fly him out to other states for jobs, and this opportunity was one of the biggest heâd ever been given. Of course he was going to take it, even if it meant being away from his boyfriend for so long.
It wasnât every day that he was handed the opportunity to be the host of a news-slash-quiz show, so despite the fact that he had been given six months before shooting began, he still found it difficult to say âsee you laterâ to Ryan at the airport. Ryan had loaded Jonâs luggage into the trunk of his Adder and had taken him the long route â the one less guarded by police and speed cameras â and Jon felt somewhat nostalgic as Ryan went over the speed limit by tenfold.
Ryan had driven round the wide, open roads of Los Santos with Jon riding shotgun to their first date; they drove to the peak of a hill up in Blaine County as the sun gradually set, and had shared a picnic by moonlight. The view of Mount Chiliad from their position had been beautiful, and Jon couldnât help but whip his camera out and snap some photos. Mostly of Ryan (and one of those pictures still resided on his desk at work today).
Jon had been somewhat tempted to change his phone lockscreen from the selfie the two of them had taken together from the rooftop of Jonâs apartment one evening, to the picture he kept on his desk, but he decided against it. He had digital copies of all of his photos anyway; if he ever felt homesick (and he knew he would) heâd flick through the seemingly endless photo albums on his laptop.
That had been one of the first things he had made sure to pack. Then his camera, then his other equipment, then his hard drives, then his toiletries and other essentials⌠But then heâd started to pack his clothes and Ryan had to intervene.
âJon, youâre leaving for three months, not three years.â He had declared, a slightly awe-filled expression on his face as he stared in disbelief at Jon, who was sitting on his third suitcase in order to make everything fit. âTake some clothes out, dear. Theyâll still be here when you get back.â
âUgh,â Jon grumbled, sighing as he stood up and raked a hand through his disheveled hair for the thousandth time that day. âBut what if I need it?â
âIf you need it that badly then Iâll send it to you in the post.â Ryan replied, flipping open the suitcase and pulling out a winter coat â something he knew Jon wouldnât need in his three months away.
âBut-â Jon reached out for the coat but Ryan held it away and out of reach, smirking down at his boyfriend.
âNo buts. Just let me help you, okay?â
âFine,â Jon retorted, but his pout faded as Ryan kissed him chastely on the lips. After that, Jon was far more compliant as Ryan pulled various items of clothing out of his overstuffed suitcase and declared that Jon wouldnât need it.
Packing, overall, had been a nightmare, but Ryan had certainly made it a lot less tedious.
It had all felt so surreal up until the morning Jon was due to leave. He only got out of bed when Ryan all but dragged him up, and he slumped into Ryanâs car with a heavy heart and a strange stirring in his stomach. Initially he had worried that he was coming down with something, but then he lost himself in laughter as Ryan sped through the streets of Los Santos, only quietening as they found themselves in a more urban area of the city, barely a few minutes from the airport.
After Ryan parked the car, Jon froze.
His head was spinning and he felt as if he was about to pass out; the car felt all too warm but a shiver shot down his spine.
But then Ryanâs hand was on his shoulder and he was bringing him in for a comforting embrace, the contact warm and reassuring. The worn, soft leather of Ryanâs jacket felt familiar on his face and he allowed Ryan to kiss his forehead before gently stroking his hair.
They remained in a companionable silence for a few relaxing minutes â the calm in the eye of the storm â before pulling back reluctantly.
âYouâre gonna do great in Vice City,â Ryan confidently declared, a soft smile on his face. âI believe in you.â
Jonâs chest gave a pang of heartache and he surged forwards, clumsily leaning on the handbrake and pressing his lips firmly against Ryanâs, savouring the contact. Ryanâs arms were worm as they encircled his shoulders and brought him closer, his lips were just as soft and welcoming as they always were, and Ryan was just as eager as he was every single time they kissed.
There wasnât a single kiss that Ryan didnât put his all into; he would always ensure that when they parted, they would both always be panting for breath. Jon allowed Ryan to consume his senses, overwhelming him with his presence in the most addicting of ways. In all honesty, if Jon didnât have a flight to catch then he wouldâve let Ryan completely devour him in that car.
But as reality fell over Jon like a crashing wave, he reluctantly broke the kiss and gently rested his forehead against Ryanâs. They allowed themselves a few more moments to relish in the feeling of being together, simply basking in the way Jonâs hair brushed against Ryanâs face and the way Ryan was slowly rubbing circles over the back of Jonâs hand. But then the clock on the dashboard caught Jonâs eye and he sighed and leaned back.
The walk into the airport went too fast for Jonâs liking. Before he knew it, his suitcases were already checked in and he was stood with his tech bag slung over one shoulder and his backpack in his hand, nervously hovering near Departures next to Ryan.
âDonât have too much fun without me, alright?â Jon said, his forced smile feeling less faux when the corners of Ryanâs lips quirked up in amusement.
âI wonât, donât worry,â Ryan assured, âand Iâll make sure Geoff doesnât plan any jobs that are too cool either. I wouldnât want our photographer to miss out on any wonderful opportunities for pictures.â
âGood,â Jon replied, but his heart gave a lurch at the very mention of Ryanâs job. âBe careful, alright?â
Ryan smiled and gently cupped Jonâs cheek with one hand, the other brushing a few stray strands of his hair out of the way. It was clichĂŠ, but Jon wouldnât have asked for anything else. âIâm always careful,â Ryan declared confidently, ducking his head down to press one soft, lingering kiss on Jonâs lips before pulling back once more. âCall me when you land, okay?â
âI will.â Jon said, sneaking one final kiss before preparing himself to turn around and walk away. It would hurt, but it was necessary. Ryan nodded once and every single fibre of Jonâs being screamed âstay, stay, stay,â but he pushed those niggling thoughts aside and began to turn on his heel. âI love you, Ryan.â
âI love you too, Jon!â Ryan replied just before Jon began to walk towards Departures. âHave a wonderful time, dear!â
Jonâs knuckles were white as he squeezed tightly onto the strap of his bag, but he forcefully steeled himself and continued to walk further into the airport.
Jonâs knuckles were white as he squeezed tightly onto the strap of his bag, but he forcefully steeled himself and continued to walk further into the airport. It bustled with people but the only thing Jon could focus on was the fact that he was currently handing the security lady his passport and ticket to the opposite side of the country. He was going to be spending three whole months away from Ryan in a city he'd never been to before and Jon took a deep breath to calm himself.
He couldn't get wound up now; he'd at least wait until he was safely on the plane. At least then he would be comfortably sat in his seat and he could freak out all he wanted. So in the end, he did just that.
Luckily he had an aisle seat and the elderly couple who sat on the same row as him fell asleep almost instantly. According to the old lady, they had just caught this flight after their previous one from the south of Argentina so they were absolutely exhausted and needed the rest. For that, Jon was grateful because it meant he could order something strong and alcoholic from the menu and relax as the buzz set in.
He was a lightweight and barely ever drank (simply because Ryan never drank so he didn't particularly see any reason to go out of his way to buy alcohol unless it was for a party or special occasion) so after a chilling beer and a shot or two, he was happily able to fall asleep. There wasn't much turbulence and nobody bothered him, so sleep came easy and before he knew it, he was already disembarking the aircraft and hauling his too-heavy suitcases onto a trolley before hailing a cab and texting Ryan a quick 'just landed, gonna catch a cab and call you when I get to my hotel. xxx'
He had barely even stepped foot inside his hotel room before Jon was pulling out his phone - smiling fondly at the lockscreen - and clicking on Ryan's name.
"Hey, dear, how was the flight?" Ryan's familiar voice instantly calmed Jon's nerves and he flopped backwards onto his bed and focused on Ryan's voice.
"Eh, I slept through most of it." Jon replied. "Everything ran smoothly and we were only delayed by about half an hour."
"Only," Ryan echoed, the hint of a smirk to his voice.
"So, how was your day?" Jon asked, just knowing that listening to the antics of the Fake AH Crew would make him feel right at home. Ryan sighed in resignation and Jon smiled; he'd bet any amount of money that Geoff had them all do something pointless and stupid... Either that or Gavin accidentally shot someone (again).
"Well, it was mostly just a few bits and pieces of planning here and there, but then Geoff had us running shitty errands all day." The disgruntled huff that followed Ryan's grumbling made Jon really wish he could have been there, if only to grin at the pout his boyfriend would be wearing. He'd probably also try to kiss it off, but he didn't let himself think about that. He'd only get too homesick too quickly.
"Aww, what did he have you do?" Jon queried with a sympathetic tone, and when Ryan launched into a detailed description of the silly things Geoff had them do - from threatening a cashier to stealing a box of golfballs from the local course ("they're important, okay?" Geoff had reasoned), it was all ridiculous and completely expected of the mob boss. Everything Geoff did was elaborate, extravagant, and often seemingly useless.
As Ryan continued to ramble, Jon felt his eyes start to droop. He compromised by shuffling the pillows around on his semi-comfortable bed and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sound of Ryan's voice consume him. It was one of Jon's not-so-secret pleasures; he'd often pick a certain poem or short story out for Ryan to read at bedtime. Ryan would typically roll his eyes and claim that his voice wasn't that nice to listen to, but he would always comply. He'd do anything for Jon, and Jon would do anything for Ryan.
In a way, that was why they worked so well together. They'd go to the ends of the earth to keep the other safe. And as Ryan continued to talk about his day, about Geoff being an asshole, about Michael making him laugh, about Jack driving his car so fast around so many corners that Gavin threw up, about anything and everything that came to mind, Jon began to find that he had slowly started to drift off to sleep. Ryan clearly didn't seem to mind, since he continued to talk long after Jon stopped responding, only hanging up the phone when all he could hear was the soft sound of Jon quietly snoring.
When Jon woke up the next morning he did so with a groan of frustration when he realised that he had to be ready for the first day of work by 4pm and it was already 11am. He unpacked quickly, hastily shoving things in drawers and cursing himself for not bringing any spare coathangers.
And when he was finally ready for work, he had to dart back to his hotel room at least four times to grab things he had forgotten. Luckily he'd only been in the lobby, but the trek back to the lift and across the floor to his room was still one he'd rather not have to continuously make.
His first day of work went swimmingly albeit incredibly fast. It was over in the blink of an eye and Jon was already curling up in bed, ready for a good night's sleep.
He probably should have expected that it would continue to be like this: demanding and fast-paced. The next few weeks were, in Jon's own words, "hectic as fuck," he had told Ryan one evening over Skype (which had become their main point of contact). They managed to Skype almost every single evening and according to Ryan, Geoff had even made an effort to refrain from organising heists and jobs in the evenings. Although in his defence, nobody in their right minds would deny the Vagabond anything he wanted.
Hosting the show was incredible - an enthralling experience like no other - as he got to report factual information as well as keep the show light-hearted and comedic. He had never worked on a set as big as the show's own private studio, he'd never worked with a crew as big as this, and it was generally all incredibly worth the cons.
But of course it all had to go to shit at some point.
----------------------------
After shutting the door behind himself with a satisfying click, Jon kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his form-fitting jeans and button-down shirt, replacing them with a comfortable t-shirt and pyjama pants. He sighed, infinitely more comfortable as he made himself a cup of decaf coffee before setting it on the nightstand and flopping face-first onto the bed.
He instantly regretted the decision the second his face hit the uncomfortably hard mattress. However, after an adequate amount of squirming and plumping up pillows and arranging blankets, he was finally comfortable. He sat cross-legged in the centre of the bed, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed in his hotel room.
The recording hours had been painfully long and tedious today, so he was grateful for the soothing warmth the steaming mug of coffee supplied. Runners had made mistakes, the guests on the show had been disruptive, the director had been particularly irate, and overall it had managed to fit Jonâs #1 spot in his âList of Very Bad Days.â
Typically after a Very Bad Day, Jon would storm through the front door of his and Ryanâs apartment; Ryan would lick his wounds, soothe his whirring mind, and theyâd fall into bed together, hence making Jonâs Very Bad Day a lot better than it had started off as. If Jon hadnât been the opposite side of the country, he would have done exactly that.
So, he decided as he opened up his laptop, heâd have to make do with a Skype call.
As always, seeing the beautiful face of his loving boyfriend on the screen brought an instant smile to Jonâs face. He was sat in a similar position to Jon, but he recognised the headboard and surroundings as that of Ryanâs side of their bed.
âEvening, dear, are you okay?â Ryan asked, furrowing his brow as he took in the sight of Jonâs frown and nest of blankets and pillows.
âEveryone kept fuckinâ it up.â Jon stated simply. But then Ryan cocked his head in a fashion that Jon knew meant âtell me more, let me help,â and Jon went off; he complained about the petulant guests, the idiotic runners, the indecisive managers, and everything in-between. Hell, he even spent a good five minutes ranting about some asshole who didnât wash up their used coffee mug in the on-set kitchen.
The words flowed from his mouth like a river, and when he was finally finished, he sighed and relaxed back into the pillows behind him.
âFeeling better?â
âEh, a bit.â Jon grumbled, albeit without the sharp tone of bitterness which had been present beforehand. âIâm tense as fuck.â
âI could help you unwind if youâd like,â Ryan suggested with a sneaky quirk of an eyebrow and a cheeky smirk.
Jon couldnât help the disbelieving grin that worked its way onto his face. âOh really? And how would you do that?â
âWell, itâd be a lot easier if I were with you right nowâŚâ
âGo on, Ryan, let me know what you want to do to me,â Jon said in a tone that he really hadnât intended to sound as seductive or sexual as it had sounded; and if the way Ryanâs lips parted in a surprised grin was anything to go by, he hadnât been expecting it either.
âGo on, Ryan, tell me what you want to do to me,â Jon said in a tone that he really hadnât intended to sound as seductive or sexual as it had sounded; and if the way Ryanâs lips parted in a surprised grin was anything to go by, he hadnât been expecting it either.
âJesus, Jon.â Ryan breathlessly muttered, transfixed by the sight of his flustered boyfriend who sat on the bed eagerly awaiting Ryanâs words. âI just⌠I wanna see you enjoy yourself.â It may have sounded cheesy, but it was all Jon needed to hear before he was licking his lips and raking his gaze down Ryan's body on the screen; he was wearing a simple grey t-shirt and his nicer, darker (and much more form-fitting) jeans. âBut hell, Jon, if I were with you then Iâd push you up against that headboard and kiss you until weâre both breathless.â
Jonâs breath skipped a beat as he pictured exactly what Ryan was describing. Ryanâs kisses were always addictive and Jon could easily imagine himself surrendering all control over to Ryan, who would absolutely devour him. Just like usual.
âAnd when youâre too out of breath to kiss me back, Iâd work my way down your neck, kissing and teasing and making you feel good. I know how much you love it when I bite your soft skin, ever so gently. Fuck, you make the prettiest of sounds.â As Ryan spoke, his voice took on a richer, more alluring tone that left Jon all but wishing he could be there to feel those lips trace those words along his skin.
âR-Ryan,â Jon stuttered out, cheeks flushing crimson as he stumbled over the words. Hell, Ryan hadnât even laid a single finger on him and he was already hard in his jeans and falling over his words. âCan I touch myself?â
Ryan must have noticed his desperation because he was softly smiling and replying with a smooth, âof course, dear,â and Jon did exactly that. The first contact between the palm of his hand and his erection through his jeans felt like bliss; he sighed with the relief and continued to palm at his crotch in a slow yet addicting manner.
âPush your laptop back a bit,â Ryan requested, âI wanna watch you. All of you.â
Jon complied without a single hesitation, pushing the laptop back so his entire body was in full view of the camera. Ryan nodded in approval and shuffled around with his laptop, leaving Jon with a perfect view from between Ryan's thighs. He had splayed his legs out so he had one on either side of the laptop and Jon bit his lip when he caught sight of the bulge in the front of Ryan's jeans.
âGo on,â Ryan urged, his tone soft and gentle, contrasting completely with the fire in his eyes. âI want you to enjoy yourself.â
âO-okay.â Jonâs breath hitched and he deftly unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his thighs, just far enough so that he could palm himself through his boxers.
âSlowly.â Ryan warned, and Jon slowed his hand. He paused for a moment before resuming his actions, ensuring that he was slow and steady instead of quick and fast. As much as he craved the touch and the pace, he wasnât about to disobey Ryanâs orders.
âGo on,â Ryan said, âtouch yourself.â
Jon finally relented and let out a desperate keen, shoving his underwear down and allowing himself the pleasure. He shivered as he curled his toes and swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, hips involuntarily bucking into the contact. If he fluttered his eyes closed and tilted his head back he could almost pretend that it was Ryanâs hand. Almost.
âHey, donât get too ahead of yourself,â Ryan warned, something domineering hidden in the lust-fuelled voice. âStop touching.â
âO-okay,â Jon gasped out. He allowed himself three more self-indulgent strokes before reluctantly dropping his hand away. When he glanced up, it was just in time to catch the devious smirk playing on Ryanâs lips. Damn did he want to kiss those lips.
âAlright. Now you can touch yourself, but slowly.â Ryanâs voice had a rich, alluring tone to it and Jon obeyed the order without a single hesitation. He wrapped a hand around himself, the other grabbing a fistful of the sheets, and did just as Ryan said; he stroked from base to tip in slow, lavishing movements that left him almost writhing for more.
âIâd make sure to tease you in those places I know you love being touched,â Ryan declared somewhat breathlessly. Only when he focussed his previously glazed-over eyes on the screen did he realise that Ryan had undone the fly of his jeans and was slowly palming himself through the thin fabric of his boxers. âIâd twist my wrist ever so slightly before teasing the tip because I know how quickly that makes you beg for more.â
Jon let out a gasp â partly because of the jolt of heated pleasure that shot through his body as he did just as Ryan said, but mostly because he was so surprised that Ryan was coming out with such filthy words. When in bed, Ryanâs words were typically those of endless praise and admiration; not addictive dirty talk. Jon wouldnât deny that it was a good surprise, though.
It was effortlessly easy to settle into a steady rhythm, mimicking Ryanâs most typical tricks and methods of eliciting pleasure from Jon. With more even more encouragement from Ryan, Jon was already thrusting his hips forwards in tandem with his handâs movement.
His eyes were locked onto the screen. Ryan was smirking at him; his eyes a piercing yet seductive icy blue as he took in the view before him all whilst touching himself just like Jon was. It didnât take any effort at all to picture Ryan looming over him, hands pinning Jonâs wrists to the headboard as he fucked him harder than Jon had ever experienced.
âWhen you get back,â Ryanâs voice was low and deep, and his breathing was more like panting than anything else, âIâm going to make you feel so damn good.â
âFuck, R-Ryan,â Jonâs breath hitched. His skin already felt like it was on fire, and his heart was pounding almost too loud for him to hear. âI need you.â
âI need you too.â
âI-Iâm gonna. Fuck, Ryan, fuck-â Jon cried out breathlessly, his eyes only made for the Ryan on his computer screen as sparks shot through his body and he came, moaning out Ryanâs name almost incoherently as he rode out his orgasm. Ryan came barely moments after Jonâs first utterance of his name, and he hunched forwards once he had finished, panting and staring at the exhausted Jon.
They both took a few more moments to catch their breaths before either spoke.
âIâm absolutely going to devour you when you get back.â Ryan declared.
âI look forward to it.â Jon replied, and his devious smirk matched the one on his loverâs face.
The call barely lasted another fifteen minutes, the last of it being spent making quiet promises to call again soon, and âI love youâs were traded with honesty before they both ended the call and fell almost instantly asleep.
There were still several weeks left of Jonâs trip, but they were both simply glad that they had found a way to enjoy themselves despite the distance. And, most of all, they were both already looking forward to the day of Jonâs return.














