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Sawdust

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“I’m allergic to sawdust.”

“Good thing there’s none here.”

“Are you sure about that?” Seth waves his hands in front of his face, wafting cool, sea-salt laden air towards his nose. “I’m getting something piney and dry, with a modicum of – oh, ugh, agh, I think I inhaled a splinter. Gee, Ryan, I think it’s sawdust.”

“Next time, I’m bringing duct tape,” Ryan shapes the words against Seth’s jaw, the full body shiver he gets in reply rattling through his teeth.

Seth hitches his hips, clothed cock dragging against Ryan’s, too slow and deliberate. “I’m just saying, there are nicer places to take a guy on a date than…what even is this, your construction hovel?”

Ryan bites down, soothing the sting with his tongue. “Who said this was a date?”

Seth whimpers, a little, but he makes the same sound for new issues of Legion. Ryan is not concerned.

“Fine, it’s not a date, it’s a…” He sighs, biting his own lip and arching against the scrape of Ryan’s incisors. “A really intimate family reunion.”

A laugh bubbles up from Ryan’s throat, choking itself off when Seth nips at his ear lobe and demands suspiciously, “Is this what you did with Trey when you went to Vegas for spring break?”

“You’re ruining it,” Ryan tells him sternly, grabbing for Seth’s hip. He is sharpness and heat under Ryan’s palm.

“Pretty sure the sawdust is ruining it – oh,” Seth groans, because Ryan is lifting him bodily onto the granite countertop. He had it special ordered in from Morocco, the craftsmanship and color offsetting the rough, exposed woodwork of the ceiling overhead.

Ryan built that ceiling himself. He built this whole house, because that’s what Ryan does now. He creates, where he once destroyed.

He’s pretty damn proud of it.

Seth grabs at Ryan’s ass, trying to pull him between the cradle of his legs. It’s an awkward angle, but the geometry’s easy to fix. Ryan pushes up on his toes, and there, that’s perfect – Seth’s dick is thick, hard, and seeping dampness through too-tight corduroy.

Ryan has no idea why Seth’s still wearing pants. Ryan isn’t wearing pants, denim pooled around his work boots. He asks the obvious question, “Do you actually plan on taking these off?”

He tugs the corduroy for emphasis.

“What part of my sawdust allergy are you not understanding?” Seth retorts, but he’s gamely unbuttoning, unzipping, and squirming his pants down his thighs, past his ankles. He squirms a little when he kicks off his Vans, flailing like an eel out of water.

It’s better, once he’s done. Ryan can fit right between his legs, shift his cock against Seth’s without any barriers between them. He leans in and bites Seth’s neck, listening to him moan with a self-satisfied grin.

Seth complains, “I can feel you smiling,” but he lets himself get pushed back against the counter all the same.

“Oh yeah?” Ryan asks, pushing a finger inside him, blunt and rough. “Can you feel this?”

“You’re a sadist,” Seth yelps. “I’ve got marble under my butt, and it’s cold, Ryan. It’s really cold. You could at least make me a little more…oh, ah…comfortable.”

He’s trailed off because Ryan pulled out the lube during that little tirade, worked his fingers and Seth’s asshole with a thin layer of the stuff. He’s tracing tight flesh now, little tiny touches that are making Seth shiver. “You like that?”

“I’d like it more if you weren’t always such a tease. Seriously, you’re worse than Summer-“

Without warning, Ryan thrusts two of his fingers into Seth, advising, “You really don’t want to talk about Summer right now.”

“You know?” Seth gasps. “I really, really don’t.”

He lets Ryan stretch him wide, one hand rubbing soothing circles against Seth’s thigh while the other searches for how to make him twitch. Seth, ever unable to stay still, throws his head back like an invitation. Ryan takes him up on it, kissing across the bob of his Adam’s apple, the reverberations of every sound he makes. And Seth, he clutches at Ryan like he’s his last anchor on this earth, pulling him so close until Ryan can barely move his hand.

He grunts, “You’re making this. Really. Difficult.”

Seth’s breaths come in tiny, panted exhalations. He says, “Maybe I’m just confused about why you’re not fucking me already.”

He makes a pretty strong point, grinding against Ryan’s hand, which makes his own calluses rub against his cock. With a wheeze of laughter, he drags his teeth against Seth’s collarbone, answering, “You really missed me, huh?”

Seth’s grin is immediate and bright. “That obvious?”

Ryan runs a hand through Seth’s dark curls. He feels like he’s pulling on his own heartstrings.

Fondly, he informs Seth, “The feeling’s mutual.”

He wiggles his hand free. Seth whines at the absence, but stops the second Ryan rubs the head of his dick against Seth’s entrance. And Seth, for his part, bites his lip and peers up at him, trusting, wanting. He touches Ryan’s face with complete and under adoration. “We gonna do this, Atwood?”

“Shut up,” Ryan huffs. He sinks into Seth, reveling in the sense that he’s coming home.

The buildup is slow, tiny twitches of Ryan’s hips that drive him deeper. Seth allows that for as long as he can, until he’s arching up off the kitchen counter, scrabbling for purchase as he wraps his arms around Ryan’s neck. The angles between them are award, now, Seth curving his body unnaturally to fit against Ryan’s dick and his lips. His cock leaves smears of pre-come against Ryan’s stomach with every thrust.

He tells Ryan, “Come on, come on,” gasping as the rhythm picks up speed. Ryan’s fingers drum against the notches in Seth’s spine, the other boy’s wiry body tightening all over.

“You first.”

Seth tenses, pressing a hot kiss against Ryan’s neck as he obeys, spilling hot and hurried between them. With the pulsating pressure all around him, Ryan can’t help but follow after, coming and coming and coming, with Seth’s name the only word on his lips.