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After Tom

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"Hey," Sam says softly, seeing Ryan waiting as he steps back inside and closes the sliding glass doors to the deck behind him. He sets down his phone and just shakes his head. It would have been nice to be two for two but he should have known better.

Ryan's shoulders slump. He didn't let himself hover protectively during the call like he'd wanted to, but he'd been able to overhear Sam's tone of voice for the most part. Still, he'd hoped for good. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispers, striding to take his husband into his arms.

Sam hugs Ryan close, breathing in his scent. "He said he was pissed off cause I'd lied, not because I'm gay, but we both know that's a pile of shit."

Ryan has always tried to like Sam's mates. And for the most part, he does like them. But Tom... Well, Tom. The word "faggot" had rolled off his tongue so easily, and Ryan's not in the least surprised by this turn of events. Saddened, though, and his heart aches for his lover. "Maybe he'll come around. Once he gets over the shock and starts missing your friendship."

"To be honest, I don't really care if he does. I was just hoping he might react differently." Sam hugs Ryan even harder before pulling back a little. "A lot of people are gonna react that way. Even people I thought were friends."

"I know," Ryan says softly, looking into his lover's eyes. "It still sucks when your worst suspicions of someone are confirmed." He hesitates. "I'll try not to care, too."

"You're so protective of me," Sam says with a grin, eyes twinkling.

"It's purely selfish," Ryan replies, managing a small smile in return. "You're my everything."

Sam smiles then sighs again, shaking his head. "Fuck. There's no way he's not going to tell everyone, which is fine, they're going to find out when the interview's printed but fuck." Just fuck. Everything about this goes against Sam's innate need for privacy.

"I'm sure the interview will be a hell of a lot more flattering than Tom will be," Ryan mutters ruefully. "Want to... want to get away soon? I'll squeeze a few days out of your schedule, we'll go to the vineyard and have total radio silence. It'll be beautiful, and the world can fucking leave a message."

"We're supposed to see my parents next break," Sam says, even though the idea of getting away to the vineyard sounds infinitely more appealing. "Maybe I can ask for an extra couple of days and we can get away here or there. Quiet cabin in the middle of nowhere."

"You're right, that'd be better. Otherwise we might get stuck on a plane half the time." Sam's rare days off are far too precious. "I'll set it up. You can spend the whole trip completely naked."

Sam grins. "Will you be naked with me?"

"If my Sir requires it," Ryan answers cheekily.

"Definitely. Naked, ringed, prepped." Sam's grin widens.

"R-- ringed?" Ryan can't help how his voice stumbles; it's been a long time since they've played that way, but he remembers how intense it was. He sighs quietly, already beginning to soften and slip down. "Yes, Sir."

"Should I add plugged to the list?" Sam asks, but not really. "Hm. You could fuck me like that. Ringed and plugged."

Ryan groans at the thought. "I haven't fucked you in a long time," he murmurs, although he's already pretty sure this won't be one of the times he ends up feeling toppy — not in that state.

"We'll have to fix that," Sam grins, reeling Ryan in closer and kissing him.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers into the kiss. He wraps himself around Sam. "It will be your boy's pleasure." God he loves it when Sam has the time and energy to put him on his knees.

"And what about right now?" Sam grins. "You gonna take my mind off the horrible phone call I just had?"

"Mmm, yes please." Ryan starts with Sam's shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, then licking his way down his lover's chest.

Sam groans, the sound low, rough, one hand sliding into Ryan's hair already.

Ryan lingers — he delights in Sam's body too much not to. He scrapes his teeth over his nipples, then sucks, his hands starting to work open his lover's jeans. Reaching inside to stroke.

"Oh, fuck," Sam murmurs, licking his lips, his hips pushing forward.

Slowly Ryan drops to his knees, taking Sam's jeans and shorts with him. He rubs his cheek against his sir's cock, breathing him in, before he licks out into the slit.

Fuck. It's amazing how little it really takes to wipe the call with Tom completely from his mind. Sam groans, his grip on Ryan's hair tightening. "Yeah."

Ryan grins and closes his lips over the crown, slowly taking Sam in as deep as he comfortably can. His fingers playing over his lover's ass.

"Fuck," Sam blurts out, unable to help himself this time. "You have the most amazing mouth." It's not exactly news but it doesn't hurt for Ryan to hear it and hear it often.

Ryan sucks, then pulls off just long enough to whisper, "It's yours." He licks his index finger and runs it down Sam's crack, rubbing against his hole.

Sam shudders, widening his stance a little, one hand reaching behind him for the kitchen table. "Yeah. Mine. My boy."

God, Ryan loves it when Sam lets him do this — it just makes him adore his Sir all the more. He presses the length of his finger slowly inside, and swallows Sam until he gags.

"Oh, fuck," Sam groans, pushing deeper, torn between that finger and his boy's throat. Christ. "Fuck, yeah."

Ryan hooks his finger to rub Sam's prostate, teasing at his sweet spot while he picks up the pace with his mouth, licking and sucking.

Sam lets Ryan go to town on him, lets his boy take the lead, arousal and lust and sheer pleasure washing over him in wave after wave, his balls starting to draw up tight, his orgasm curling tighter and tighter at the base of his spine.

Ryan wraps his free hand around Sam's cock, lips meeting fingers with each bob of his head. Reveling in the flavor of his Sir's desire, his need, the excitement scenting his skin.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna come," Sam warns, just in case Ryan has anything else in mind.

With a groan Ryan swallows around the head. Looking up to watch his lover's face.

And that's it. Sam's done for. He comes with a rough groan, muscles clenching around Ryan's finger even as his cock spurts pulse after pulse down his boy's throat.

Ryan swallows, then takes care to lick up every stray drop. Pulling his hand away, he rests his head blissfully against Sam's thigh. "I love you," he sighs, hard as a spike but thoroughly content where he is. "Thank you."

"It's me who should be thanking you," Sam points out, combing his fingers through Ryan's hair. "Forgot all about what's-his-face."

"Good. What's-his-face can go fuck himself, terrified of cock as he is," Ryan murmurs.

Sam laughs. "I love you."

Ryan grins up at him. "I love you, Sir."