Ryan shoulders through the front door with his arms full and calls out, "I'm home!" He hates not being there for Sam when Sam arrives home from work each day, but today was a busy one and he plain ran out of time. "I'm sorry I'm late, but I brought pizza."
"It's okay," Sam says, coming out from the bedroom, his hair still wet, board shorts hanging from his hips. "I just grabbed a shower. Want me to take something?" Already moving to relieve Ryan of the pizza box and plant a kiss on his boy's lips.
"Yeah, you can take your shorts off," Ryan teases, and gives his lover a wink. "How was your day?" he asks over his shoulder, setting a bag of French fries and a six-pack of beer on the kitchen table.
"Good, long," Sam says, peeking in the fry bag and putting a few beers in the fridge and the others in the freezer to chill quickly. "How was yours?"
"Really busy. I got wrapped up in writing and completely lost track of time," Ryan answers. "Hence, pizza."
"How'd it go?" Sam asks, grabbing plates from the cupboard and setting them on the table along with some napkins.
"Good, really good." Ryan waits until Sam's hands are empty and steps in, throwing his arms around his husband's neck. "How about you?"
Sam blows out a breath. "It was good," he repeats, knowing Ryan knows him too well for him to get away with anything. "But I'm getting pretty worn out," he admits. "Got anything you want to play for me?" he asks, hoping to change the subject.
"Really? Yeah. Um, maybe," Ryan says, but his smile fades at the weariness in Sam's eyes. "Do you want to spill your guts before, or after?"
"I don't want to spill my guts," Sam says, planting a kiss on Ryan's mouth. "I want to just it let go, have a nice quiet evening and fuck your brains out before I crash."
"All right all right, if you insist," Ryan teases, kissing Sam once more before releasing him. "Sit. Eat." He waits until his lover obeys before seating himself on the opposite side of the small table. "This is from that new place, DiCicero's, so let me know if you don't like it."
"It's pizza," Sam points out, helping himself to a couple of slices. "It would have to be pretty bad for me not to like it."
"It's certainly happened before. People can mess pizza up in the weirdest ways," Ryan says with a laugh. "This smells good though." He piles salad on his plate, then grabs a couple slices for himself. "Mmm. Yeah."
"It's good. Really good," Sam says, ignoring the salad in favour of another slice.
"So what happened?" Ryan dares to press a little.
"It was just a long day," Sam says, popping a piece of pepperoni into his mouth. "Like all the other long days but they're starting to add up and maybe I'm getting too old for this."
Ryan raises an eyebrow at that. "New bruises? You'll have to let me look." He sighs and swallows a bite of salad. "You're not too old, you're perfect for the part. But if you don't want to do it, then don't. Let this be the last time."
"And if I don't get offered anything else?" Sam asks.
"Then we'll expand your production company into films, and you'll make the ones you want to star in," Ryan answers. He knows too well that faint thread of nerves in Sam's voice, the lingering paranoia about his career.
Sam nods, reaching for another slice of pizza. "Maybe," he agrees, not really ready to explore that idea too deeply just yet. "What about you? How's the writing going? Got anything you want to play for me?" he asks again, grinning.
"Yeah, there are a few things," Ryan murmurs, always a little shy when it comes to Sam and his music. But god knows he can't resist that smile, dimple and all. "I've got one almost all polished up, so you can hear that one," he says.
"You should share them with more than just me," Sam points out. "I saw an open mic night thing down at the coffee house. I know you don't like singing but you've got a great voice and your songs are amazing." Amazing enough that Ryan's had a fair bit of commercial success but he still seems wracked with self-doubt.
"Yeah, right. Just me and my guitar and a beer?" Ryan jokes, and takes a large bite of pizza.
"Why not?" Sam says, smiling across the table.
Ryan blinks. "Seriously?" he asks, eyeing his husband. "I don't know, I haven't done that since..." he trails off with a shrug. "Would you be there?"
"Of course," Sam says, eyes sparkling. "I wouldn't miss it. I'd be busy bragging to everyone that that's my husband up there."
"You can't do that," Ryan says, flushing. But he ducks his head on a bashful grin. Truly, he supposes Sam could do that if he really wants to: they're both out at this point, so why not? He's just not used to flaunting his relationship.
"Yes I can." Sam grins. "But what I won't do is bug all the cast to come see you - unless you want me to - until you're comfortable."
"I haven't even met all of them," Ryan points out, warming at the thought of his lover pulling in such an audience. For him. "We should at least have them over first. Throw one of those famous Sam Worthington cast parties."
"We could have everyone over this weekend," Sam suggests. He may be thoroughly sick of work at the moment but he's willing to do anything to get Ryan up on stage sooner. "Throw some steaks and chicken on the grill, get in a couple of kegs."
"I love that idea. If you'll spread the word I'll get started on the food," Ryan says, smiling at his husband. And he already knows he's going to say yes -- does he ever really say no? "But you have to promise not to get embarrassed if I sing a song I wrote for you."
"A new one?" Sam asks, reaching for his fourth slice of pizza.
"I meant at all, but... Yeah, a new one if it's polished enough." Ryan snorts a soft laugh and suggests, "You could always pretend that I wrote it for someone else, if that helps."
"Why would I do that?" Sam asks. "I love the songs you've written for me."
Ryan smiles at him. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable with my public display of affection," he teases, gently bumping Sam's leg under the table. "Everyone's going to know I'm crazy about my husband."
Sam grins, ducking his head a little. "Same here," he says. "And we're out now. I like people knowing."
Blushing, Ryan sips at his beer. “Are you about done there?” he asks innocently.
"Yeah," Sam nods, draining his beer. "Especially since I got away without eating any salad." He grins.
Ryan chuckles. "I'd better help you burn it off, then," he says, one eyebrow raised. Getting to his feet, he rinses his hands at the sink and decides to leave clean-up for later. "You mentioned sex?"
"I did," Sam nods, moving his plate to the sink before pulling Ryan into his arms and kissing him thoroughly.
With a moan of pleasure Ryan kisses him back, putting his arms around Sam and sliding his hands beneath his lover's t-shirt so he can touch his skin.
Licking into Ryan's mouth, Sam pushes back against the counter, working on getting his t-shirt up and over his head before his own follows, their bare chests pressed together.
Ryan scrapes his nails down Sam's back, just firmly enough to bite but not enough to leave marks. "We doing this here?" he asks, breathless from the kiss.
Sam contemplates that for a moment then shakes his head, eyes sparkling. "Bed. So we can pass out after."
"Yes, Sir." Ryan grins and tucks his finger into Sam's belt loop to tug him down the hall to the bedroom. He's all about making his lover forget the frustrations of the day.
Sam's grin widens as Ryan pulls him down the hallway. He'd already started relaxing during dinner but he can feel more of the stress, the tension, falling away with each step, everything focused on Ryan now.
By the bed Ryan slowly takes his jeans off, letting Sam get a good look at what he's about to take. Then he stretches out naked, his eyes hot on his lover.
"You are so fucking hot," Sam says, shedding his shorts, his gaze locked on Ryan as they fall to the floor and he climbs on the bed, settling between Ryan's thighs.
"Says you," Ryan whispers, already arching into Sam, nails digging into his ass cheeks.
"I'm the only one who matters," Sam points out, half-teasing, biting at Ryan's mouth.
Ryan laughs then moans, sliding his cock against Sam's. "Missed you all day," he says softly, confident it won't slow Sam down.
"Did you think about this?" Sam says, working his way down Ryan's throat.
"Thought about this," Ryan says, closing his fingers around Sam's cock. "About you reminding me who I belong to."
Sam groans, thrusting lightly into Ryan's grip, mouth moving over his skin. "My boy," he growls.
"Yes, Sir." Satisfaction spreads across Ryan's face even as he gasps with pleasure. "Yours."
"Tell me how much you want it," Sam demands, biting at Ryan's throat now, hand slipping between them, between Ryan's thighs, fingers playing over his already-slicked hole.
"I think of it-- unh-- all fucking day," Ryan grates out, pushing down on Sam's fingers and trying to work them inside. "Think about you coming home and slamming your huge cock into me, like you couldn't think of anything else either."
"If you hadn't brought food, I would've," Sam promises, eyes sparkling, moving lower, playing with Ryan's nipple rings while he pushes two fingers inside him. "Would've fucked you over the counter or the table. Up against the wall. If you'd been earlier, I would've dragged you into the shower with me."
Ryan grins, then moans as Sam penetrates him just right. He pushes into Sam's touch, on fire from the teasing to his nipple rings. "Please," he whispers, licking hungrily at his lover's throat, hands sliding over his biceps.
"Please what, boy?" Sam murmurs, tugging harder at Ryan's nipple rings, his fingers twisted to rub just so over Ryan's prostate.
"Please--" God, when Sam calls him 'boy' in that husky voice it just turns Ryan's bones to liquid, like they're back at the beginning and he's newly under his lover's power. "Oh god, please fuck your boy, Sir. I'm yours, take me."
Cock giving a rough throb, Sam rises up, fingers pulled free and head lined up, slowly pushing into his boy, the head popping through that still tight first ring of muscle. Staring down at Ryan.
Ryan grits his teeth as his body gives way, then breathes acceptance of his lover. "Yes," he whispers, feeling Sam move deep inside him. Opening his eyes, he locks gazes with Sam, stunned.
"This is always so fucking good," Sam breathes, stilling for a moment, his cock throbbing inside Ryan now.
Ryan stares, drowning in those deep pools of blue. "Yeah," he manages, his fingers slipping a bit in the sweat on Sam's shoulders.
Sam nods, not breaking the connection between them. Drawing out to the very tip before he slowly sinks in again, burying every last fraction of an inch inside his boy.
With a gasp Ryan arches his back. He pushes down against his lover and rocks his hips, cradling Sam between them.
"Fuck, yes," Sam groans, drawing back and repeating the movement.
"Sir," Ryan manages. "I-- god, I love you," he moans, scraping his nails over Sam's ass.
Sam shudders, cock throbbing violently inside his boy. "I love you too," he grins, stilling for a moment, just long enough to pull himself back from the edge, before he starts thrusting again, sinking all the way in with every single movement.
Ryan's spine turns to water. "Ohh, god," he says softly, the impact of each thrust shaking him. "Please," he whispers, digging his nails into Sam's flesh. "Please, sir. Let your boy come."
As always, Sam's tempted to say no. Tempted to torment his boy, make him beg even more, but tonight, with Ryan's nails carving into his skin, the sheer need laid bare in his eyes, Sam nods. "Do it," he says instead. "Come for me."
With a whimper Ryan hangs on, so close and yet... "Please, Sir, can I touch myself?" he pants.
Sam grins. So tempted once again. But he's already given Ryan permission... "Go ahead, boy."
With a gasp Ryan snakes his hand in between them to grab his cock. He strokes quickly, and Sam's cock rubs his prostate just right and he explodes, bucking beneath his lover.
Fucking hell. Sam doesn't have a hope in holding out, Ryan's body demanding his pleasure in return. Hips pumping harder, he drives into Ryan once, twice, and a third time before he comes with a shout, emptying himself into his boy.
“Oh god.” Ryan wraps his arms and legs around Sam and lets himself sink beneath his lover’s weight, cherishing the feeling that they’re the only two in the world.
"I love you," Sam whispers, dropping down fully, his mouth pressed to Ryan's.
“Yeah.” Ryan breathes, and a hint of a smirk grows on his face. “I know.”
"Brat," Sam says with a smile.
"Yeah," Ryan whispers again, and kisses his husband.