"Were you seen?" Gabe hisses around the doorframe, barely holding back the hiccups of laughter.
The door shakes where Ryan thumps it. "Who the fuck is out here to see me? Standing here is way more obvious, dumbass."
"Can't be too careful," Gabe says smugly, but he lets Ryan push his way into the tiny room.
He takes it in, wrinkling his nose, as Gabe locks the door and puts the chain on. "So, uh, remember how I already have a hotel room? And it's nicer than this?"
Gabe waves him off, leaning over his shoulder into his space. "It's traditional though, right? For sneaking around."
"All I said was that if Hallsy saw you, everyone in the universe would know in fucking seconds," Ryan grumbles, but he tilts his head, exposing his neck where Gabe's leaning in to kiss it.
"This is great though!" Gabe says. "I didn't even know they were like this in real life! Doesn't it make you feel like we're having an affair?"
"Getting laid would make me feel like we were having an affair," Ryan says pointedly.
Gabe licks a warm stripe up his throat. "Getting there, in good time." He laughs. "Oh man, you should totally fuck me against the dresser, while we think about our bad decisions." He gestures at the dresser, which totally has an actual mirror over it, because apparently Gabe asked for some kind of special cliché room or something.
"You're such a weirdo," Ryan mutters, hands sneaking under Gabe's shirt as he turns to face him. Gabe makes a happy noise, shivering under the blunt scrape of Ryan's nails down his side. "Rethinking all my choices here."
"That's the spirit," Gabe says cheerfully. His kiss smacks against Ryan's cheek and he's still laughing when Ryan turns toward it, capturing Gabe's bottom lip in his teeth. Gabe’s hand on the back of Ryan’s neck feels good, a pleasant counterpoint to the slide of their lips together again and again.
Gabe’s phone buzzes in his pocket, caught between their bodies and he fishes for it, swatting away Ryan’s punch to the arm. “What if it’s my wife and child?” he says breathlessly, grinning like a maniac. “I can’t let them think anything’s wrong!”
“It’s…Nathan McKinnon,” Ryan says drily, peering at the screen upside-down. “Must have been a weird fucking wedding.”
“You don't know my life,” Gabe says, and goes to answer.
Ryan rolls his eyes at the man who sends him eighteen thousand snapchats a day, who blows him a kiss and says "Hello?" over the muffled laughter emanating from the phone.
“Congratulations,” a weird falsetto voice says. “You’ve won a prize. It’s, uh–”
“Home by nine, dearest? Of course I will be. Why wouldn’t I be?” Gabe says.
"What the fuck?"
"No, darling, nothing's wrong, I'll be home soon," Gabe coos.
"You can't prank me back, man, that's dumb," Nathan says in a much less fake voice, and hangs up, though not before the second person in the room says clearly, "Well, you got owned."
"It's okay, baby, they don't suspect anything," Gabe says cheerfully to Ryan, leaning back in. Ryan wrinkles his nose, not quite dodging the kiss, but Gabe's mouth only brushes the edge of his own. "Nathan doesn't really mean anything to me, I swear."
Ryan laughs in spite of himself and Gabe grins triumphantly. "Like I'd care," Ryan says, fingers twisting in Gabe's shirt and drawing him close. Gabe nods like he's thinking this over and tugs Ryan's collar away from his neck, lips against the skin he exposes, pressing Ryan backward into the door. He's not using his weight as much as he could be, but his thigh presses perfectly between Ryan's, and Ryan can be pretty happy to kiss Gabe here like this, his hands stroking down his back.
It's been a while since he was in town, and Gabe's scheming has delayed this reunion somewhat, but they've got a whole evening to take their time with this. Gabe's kisses against Ryan's neck are quick, a hint of teeth making him shiver.
Their hips move together, but slowly, lazily. Ryan's getting comfortable, even with his back pressing into the unyielding door, and he's not expecting Gabe to pull away to say, "Let me convince you?"
What he needs convincing of, Ryan doesn't know, because he has never in his life objected to Gabe on his knees, hands on Ryan's belt. He inhales when Gabe gropes him casually, spreading his legs, and it sounds like approval in the hum Gabe makes before he's mouthing at Ryan's boxers.
His hips jerk, pushing his dick awkwardly against Gabe's cheek. Gabe rubs against it, grinning like a smug douchebag, but he's pulling on Ryan's pants when he does it, dragging them just low enough for his dick to pop free. Gabe dodges, cackling.
Anything Ryan would say is swallowed in the praise he wants to babble for Gabe's hand on his dick, the drag of his foreskin against the head as Gabe pulls it down, the first touch of Gabe's tongue against the bead of moisture on the slit. He swallows, hands grasping uselessly against the smooth surface of the door, desperate for something to cling to.
Gabe just looks really good like this, Ryan's dick sliding in and out of his mouth, cheeks going red with the effort. His eyes are closed; Ryan could watch all he likes.
Instead, he tips his head back, inhaling long and slow as his hips start to jerk forward, a little rude, but Gabe's hand on his balls is still gentle, no warning, and Ryan can feel his mouth loosen, letting Ryan push. The rhythm's good, Ryan just needs a little more, though he doesn't know what that would be. He groans, hips jerking, his dick bumping the roof of Gabe's mouth.
Gabe pulls off with a long slurp and says, "I really do want you to fuck me against the dresser." Which is both incredibly hot because goddamn, Gabe's ass is great, but also sounds unpleasantly like it'll involve moving. Ryan makes an embarrassing noise.
He steps out of his jeans, feeling his legs shake as he follows Gabe over to where he's digging through the heap of his jacket on the bed. He leans in as Gabe turns, but Gabe's lips touch his for only a second before he shoves a tube into Ryan's hands, undoing his belt as he takes the two steps toward the dresser. "C'mon," Gabe says over his shoulder, bending down to brace himself on his elbows. "I was totally fucking serious about this. It'll be hot."
Fuck, he really does have a great ass.
It's not that Ryan doesn't enjoy dragging Gabe's jeans down around his knees, feeling Gabe shiver as he gropes his ass, it's just that patient isn't how he feels right now, no matter how fucking blissed out Gabe looks when he's being fingered. Ryan doesn't know what the fuck think-about-your-choices bullshit he was talking about because Gabe is goddamn shameless, his face buried in his arms and still loud as hell about how much he's enjoying this.
“You ready?” Ryan says when he can’t take it anymore, thumbs slipping on slick where he’s holding Gabe’s ass open. Gabe is profane and enthusiastic on the subject, and even more so when Ryan actually starts fucking him. It’s pretty okay.
Gabe's weird motel room kink is still totally dumb, but Ryan's got a great view of Gabe's sex face like this. It's unfair how good he still looks with his eyes screwed up, lips chewed red from how much he's been biting them between groans. It feels a little weird to watch him, the intensity in his face like he’s staring back at Ryan except that his eyes are still totally shut, and also he seems sort of busy with the being fucked and all.
Ryan bites his lip and looks away, down to the line of Gabe’s back, sloping smoothly to where Ryan’s hands are digging into his flesh, leaving white marks on Gabe’s hips like Ryan thinks he might float away if he let go. He should be doing something else, he thinks, not just losing himself in how amazing Gabe’s ass feels and the expression on his face.
His hand slips down, and Gabe’s eyes snap open. Shit, they really are too close like this, or at least, it feels like it when Gabe can stare down Ryan like he can read his thoughts. Not that they need much translation, Ryan’s pretty willing to admit they’re fairly dick-heavy right now.
“Just keep fucking going,” Gabe croaks, shoving himself back onto Ryan’s dick, and that’s the easiest instruction to obey all night. He fucks down into Gabe, hips snapping, chasing Gabe’s muttered encouragement, until he’s right fucking there, breathing heavily into Gabe’s shoulder because he can’t lift his head anymore.
His hips jitter, rhythmic still, but shakier, and Gabe says, “oh my god,” in a voice that sounds enough like permission that Ryan’s already coming. He coughs on his dry mouth, swallows, says nothing as he pulls out, but Gabe apparently has enough words for both of them.
“Fucking right,” he says, head still resting on the dresser. “Told you, man.” He stretches as he turns around, groaning satisfaction. His dick’s hard against Ryan when Ryan leans in to kiss him, Gabe hissing as the head drags across the hem of Ryan’s shirt.
“C’mon,” Ryan says, letting Gabe’s lip go. “Can I blow you on the bed? Or does that need to be uncomfortable too, to satisfy this thing of yours?”
“So considerate,” Gabe says, affectionately mocking. “I guess you can blow me over there if you want to, I’ll do you the favour.”
“Favour, my ass,” Ryan says, one hand on Gabe’s dick, watching him arch under it.
“Mine, technically,” he says, smug as hell, even with sex flush spreading down his chest. He pulls gently out of Ryan’s grasp, manoeuvring them toward the bed, like he has some other plan. He probably does.
“Your motel room thing is still totally weird,” Ryan reminds him as Gabe tumbles them both onto the bed.
“It’s not my fault you don’t care about my very important position in life,” Gabe says and doesn’t even stop talking about his goddamn imaginary wife and children when Ryan gets his mouth on his dick.