Work Header

Treat Me Like An Old Habit, And I'll Be Just As Hard To Break

Work Text:

Vincent has it all down to a science. Of course, he should have by now, considering the inordinate amount of time he had spent planning it all out and going over it in his mind. He knows Ryan is always the last one lingering in the locker room, and the last one to make his way to the showers, every time.

Usually Vince was content to leave quietly, simply slipping out of the locker room while everyone else was busy making their plans for the evening. Some nights, he would shoot a knowing glance towards Ryan, meeting his crystal blue eyes and conveying an unspoken understanding, but not tonight. Tonight there would be no meeting at "my place or yours". Vince can't explain it, but there's a deep seated need that just can't wait, certainly not anymore than it already had.

Everything about Ryan, from his infuriatingly contagious smirk to his never-take-anything-serious attitude, set Vince's blood on fire. He had never met someone so damn frustrating, yet so captivating at the same time. Sometimes, Vince swears Ryan has fire coursing through his veins, and ice set in his eyes. Ryan was like the worst possible kind of high Vince could experience; the kind that makes a person completely forget everything about who they were, and they wouldn't have it any other way. Just being close to Ryan is enough to make Vince put his 'Captain' persona on a shelf, and relinquish control.

However, there's a small part of him that is tired of always handing over the reigns and letting Ryan be the one to lead them down whatever fevered path he chooses. So, he bides his time, slowly stripping of his gear and watching his teammates trickle out of the locker room, anxiously awaiting the moment when there's no one left but him and Ryan.

While everyone is changing into their suits, Vince stands in front of his stall with nothing but a towel around his waist, fidgeting with his phone and hoping no one notices that he isn't getting dressed or heading for the showers. Even though nothing but a plain white towel was normal locker room attire, Vince's never felt more exposed. He knows it's probably beyond silly, but it feels like everyone's eyes are fixated on him, wondering just what in the hell he could be waiting for. He tries to push it aside, along with his apprehension, and continues to stare at his phone as if it somehow holds all the answers to the universe.

The noise of about five different conversations filter into the air, but Vince tries to tune them out. The rising and falling of questions, the definitive tone of answers. His gaze shoots up just in time for his peripheral vision to be filled with the sight of Ryan's bare back and broad, heavily tattooed shoulders as he slips through the door leading to the showers. Vince's heart starts to race as he swallows hard around the lump in throat, and his gaze dances across the room, only to discover he's suddenly alone. When had everyone else left?

It's almost surreal how quickly the locker room atmosphere goes from loud, boisterous and full of bodies, to empty and deafeningly silent. Footsteps fade off in the distance, and Vince is finally left with nothing but his heart pounding in his ears and the faint sound of water beating against tile in the next room. He stands in front of his stall, unable to move despite having everything he wants only feet away. Why can't he move?

It's not as if he's never been with Ryan before...he's just never been with At the Forum. In the showers. Where they both work.

Surely location doesn't dictate novelty, does it? No, it doesn't. Besides, Vince knows this is exactly what he wants, and getting what he wants-Ryan here and now, under his control-is the whole point, after all.

Vince sucks in a shaky breath, mentally telling himself to just get on with it. His legs are weak, and numb as he trudges to the bathroom. Each step he takes is heavy, dragging, and he feels like he's walking in quicksand. Really, the feeling of the soft carpet crushing under his bare feet is the only thing telling him he isn't. He stands at the threshold to the bathroom, resting both hands on either side of the door jamb. He leans forward slightly, his body seemingly wanting to carry him into the next room, yet his hands griping the door frame to keep him behind. This is his last chance to turn back.

Ryan probably doesn't even know Vince had lingered behind, so if he were to leave now...the world wouldn't stop spinning, the sky wouldn't fall, and no one would ever even know he had stayed behind. Besides, who's to say once Vince finally made it home, he wouldn't have at least half a dozen missed calls and messages from Ryan, saying he was on his way over and that Vince had better be awake when he got there?

But that isn't the point. Doing the exact same thing they've already been doing isn't part of the plan. What exactly is the plan, anyways? Vince is suddenly having a hard time remembering. Was it to see just how far he could push things before he hit the imaginary wall of Ryan's boundaries? Or was the idea to get Ryan to tear down that wall completely?

Vince can't even feel his legs as he finally unwraps his fingers from the the sides of the doorjamb and steps over the threshold. He slowly stalks towards the open shower stalls with the cold tile freezing under his bare feet, the rest of his body burning up, seemingly on fire. The only thing louder than the water beating over the tile is the sound of Vince's heart thrumming in his ears, and he swears it's so loud that maybe even Ryan can hear it, and it'll give away the fact he's not alone. Thick curls of steam hang in the air, and wrap around Vince as he slowly creeps closer and closer to the shower stall and it's sole occupant. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly rough and dry.

He stops, just a few feet short of his intended destination, and tucks his fingers slightly under where the towel was bunched around his waist. He nervously fumbles with the towel, finally getting it loose and letting it fall to the floor. The last few steps are the hardest to take, and Vince has to crane his neck to peer around the corner and into the first shower stall. His heart pounds, harder than he ever thought possible, at the sight of Ryan standing under the warm spray of the shower, leaning forward with both hands firmly planted on the wall, head down and eyes closed. Vince is lost, and can't tear his gaze from the tall forward as the water pours from the shower head and cascades over his naked body, soaking his auburn curls and trickling down every muscle of his back. Vince could stand there all day and just watch the whole scene play out, damn any pending obligations. He almost forgets who or where he is, until Ryan's low voice snaps him from his haze. Vince has half a mind to believe he's imagining things, being that Ryan never moved to address him, but he can still hear the words echoing off the cold tile walls of the empty room.

"You gonna stand there or you gonna join me?"

Ryan still doesn't move, only shifts his weight slightly from one foot to the other, and for some reason, this infuriates Vince more than he can put into words. He wants to grab Ryan by the shoulders, spin him around, and force him to look him in the eyes. Vince wants to see the burning, intense blue of Ryan's eyes, and know that the only thing on Ryan's mind is him.

A dangerous mixture of desire and adrenaline courses through Vince as he deftly moves towards Ryan, until he's standing right behind him. He reaches around Ryan's imposing body and twists the shower knob off, stopping the steady stream of hot water that had been cascading over their bodies. Vince then slides his right hand up the muscled plane of Ryan's back, moving slowly at first until his fingers curl around Ryan's shoulder. It's in that moment that Vince's grip turns firm, and he pulls Ryan up into a standing position, turning him until his back is against the cold tile of the shower wall. Ryan stares at Vince with a pleasantly surprised look on his face and his breath escaping him through slightly parted lips.

Vince wastes no time or words, offers no explanation for his sudden movements. He simply grabs at Ryan's wrists and hauls them up over his head before moving his body closer to Ryan's, pinning him against the wall and covering his mouth with a bruising kiss. Ryan kisses him back with unmistakable fervor, the kind Vince is used to seeing course through Ryan's body every time he's on the ice, chasing a puck or finishing a check. Kissing Ryan is like playing with fire, and hoping to get burned.

The air is damp and clinging to their bodies, a suffocating combination of steam and heat. Beads of water and sweat slide off their bodies with the same fluidity as Ryan's hands sliding over Vince's back, coming to rest on his shoulder blades and pulling him closer. Ryan deepens the kiss, and moves his hand to Vince's damp hair, running his fingers through the silken strands. There's something about them both being so charged with energy and almost...raw...that Ryan nearly forgets where they are, and who initiated the kiss that had his head spinning.

In the back of Ryan's mind, he knows what they're doing probably isn't a good idea, or more so where they're choosing to do it. That, coupled with his almost steadfast rule of never letting Vince make the first move, has Ryan pulling away from the kiss, but not before letting his tongue push into Vince's mouth and enjoying it for all it's worth. Silence hangs in the air, and the absence of any other noise makes the steady drops of water on the tile floor sound amplified. Vince stares at Ryan across the minute space between them, breath escaping him warm and ragged as he waits for Ryan to break the silence.

"Feeling a little adventurous, Captain?" Ryan says as he drags his eyes over Vince's body, his gaze assessing and his tone smooth, with a slight inquisitive lilt at the edges. They both know the question is completely rhetorical, and it's a well known fact that Vince isn't very fond of those types of questions. He believes asking questions you already know the answer to is a waste of time, energy and breath. A clash of irritation and infatuation pulse through Vince, one rising as the other falls, in an endless cycle that has him fighting to keep it hidden just how much he's enjoying it all.

"Just something I've been wanting to do for a while," Vince deadpans, trying to keep his voice on an even keel.

The infatuation becomes one hundred percent irritation as Ryan scoffs under his breath, and turns away slightly, angling away from Vince and hiding his face from view. "And who says I'm going to play along?"

Vince reaches out and trails his fingers lightly down Ryan's arm, trying like hell to stamp down the urge to turn on his heel and storm out in a fit of frustration. He wants to leave, yet at the same time, he's never wanted Ryan more. He knows his conflicting emotions are just one more fitting testament to the duality of Ryan's nature, and perhaps their whole relationship, if that was even an accurate word for what they had. The whole thing is as frustrating as it is fascinating.

Vince pushes his reeling thoughts aside, and continues to brush his fingers over Ryan's arm. He finally settles on looping his fingers around Ryan's wrist and pulling gently, trying to get Ryan to face him again. "It's a little hard to be demanding when you're completely naked."

Ryan slowly turns, but does nothing to tear his wrist from Vince's grip. Truth is, he simply doesn't want to. The constant push and pull in their battle of wills had become something along the lines of foreplay, and it was a explosive dance that Ryan was all too happy to take part in. So, he lets out a short, cut off laugh, one that almost sounds condescending. "I usually manage just fine."

"Do you ever stop, Malone?" Vince's tone may have been serious, with twinges of utter exhaustion, but he knows it's a trite question the second it leaves his mouth. Anyone with a set of working eyes knows for a fact that no, Ryan Malone doesn't ever stop. Sometimes his infectious smile and laughter cause a warm, twisting flutter in the pit of Vince's stomach. Other times, usually on the ice, that same blasé laugh will make Vince ache to grab Ryan firmly by the shoulders and shake him, all the while shouting "what are you doing? You're in the penalty box! Stop laughing! It's not funny and our PK is shit." Vince isn't sure if he wants to smack Ryan, or explore every inch of his body until he's a quivering mess, and the smug, provocative smirk that's creeping to Ryan's lips surely isn't helping.

Not that Vince would ever admit it to anyone, least of all Ryan, but he loves to watch the intricate ballet of movements that play across Ryan's lips every time he smiles. He can get absolutely high off the way the corner of Ryan's upper lip would twitch, ever so slightly, before he breaks out in a course round of laughter. Vince loves the knowledge that anyone can see the smile that is so distinctively Ryan, but only he and Ryan know the secret journey those same lips have ventured over his body.

"Malone? Come now, Captain. We're not on the ice anymore," Ryan says, effectively breaking Vince from his thoughts.

"Yet you keep calling me Captain." Vince notices something shift in Ryan's posture. It's hard for him to place, it really wasn't much more than a subtle movement, but he can't help but think Ryan suddenly seems a little more closed off than he did before.

"Oh, you fucking love it." Ryan does his best to keep his tone light, his voice thick and even with the usual hints of an accent that's something Vince can't quite place. The truth is, Ryan's suddenly finding it hard to remain calm. Part of him wants nothing more than to give into Vince's every desire, but there's a voice inside his head that's screaming at him, trying to remind him of what happened last time he had given into someone, completely and without any hesitation or regard. Ryan had given his entire being to someone, and they had packed it neatly away into a suitcase and took it with them to the desert. Granted, being with Vince is nothing like being with Mike, not even close, but Ryan knows he has to do everything in his power to keep the end result from being the same. Don't give in, don't get hurt.

Whatever retort Vince has dies on his lips as he stares deep into Ryan's blue eyes, and he doesn't like what he sees. The laughter that is usually in Ryan's burning blue eyes, the laughter he wears like a mask to keep the real world way, is gone. It takes Vince a few seconds to place exactly what he's seeing just under the surface of Ryan's crystalline eyes, and once he does, it takes his breath away. Fear. Ryan is scared. But of what? There really is nothing for him to lose here, except...oh. That's it, isn't it? Nothing to lose except control. Vince knows that isn't something Ryan gives up easily, if at all.

For a moment, it's as if they're in a different time and place. Vince almost forgets that they're both completely naked, with remnants of a shower long forgotten dripping off their bodies. His mind takes them back to a place where he's Ryan's concerned friend, somewhere away from here. His need to control Ryan and push him to the edge of ecstasy was gone, and a coolness infiltrated his voice. "Something wrong?"

Vince could almost see Ryan's composure slide back into place, every shred of fear leaving his eyes to be replaced with the fire that seemingly runs through his veins. "You tell me. You're the one that seems to have a staring problem."

Vince lets out a wide smile, and an airy chuckle. It's clear that Ryan's chosen to take them back into the same place they were just moments before; naked, exposed, and eagerly anticipating the feel of the other person's lips on their skin.

"Well, what would you rather be doing?" Vince says with a sly smile curling around the corners of his lips, and Ryan returns it with one of his own.

"Why don't you tell me, Captain?" Ryan's voice is dripping with a low, sensual tone, one that goes straight to Vince's core and makes his heart race.

Vince decides it's time to get what he came for, enough banter and small talk. He snakes his hand around the back of Ryan's neck, and pulls him closer to cover his mouth with a far from tentative kiss. His hand slides slowly up the back of Ryan's neck, until he's weaving his fingers through Ryan's damp auburn strands. The sent of soap and heat hang in the air, and Vince can hear his heart thrumming in his ears as his tongue slides over Ryan's bottom lip. Just the act of kissing Ryan is probably enough to sustain Vince for a lifetime, but suddenly he's consumed with the need to feel Ryan's lips over every inch of his body. He tightens his grip in Ryan's hair, earning him a low growl, which reverberates against his lips. Vince finally lets his grip slack, trails his fingers from Ryan's hair and down the side of his face, until his hand is trembling over Ryan's shoulder.

"Don't make me say it, Malone," he says through a demanding growl, his lips moving over Ryan's. He can feel Ryan's lips widening into a smile, and the small laugh that escapes Ryan rushes over him.

"Maybe I want you to."

Vince pulls away, throws his head back and shoots his gaze towards the ceiling as an exasperated sigh escapes him. "You can be absolutely infuriating sometimes, y'know that?"

Ryan places his hand over his chest, the outline of pale skin standing out in stark contrast to the colorful tattoos spanning his chest and shoulders. He feigns as if hurt, but his smile, and the laugh he can't contain gives everything away. "Your condescension wounds me."

"Oh, blow me, Malone," Vince finally snaps back.

Vince doesn't have time to react before Ryan's strong hands are grabbing him by the shoulders, and pushing him back until he's pinned against the cold tile wall behind him. The whole thing is dizzying, and Vince is having a hard time catching his breath as Ryan moves closer to him. Ryan rests his hand on the wall beside Vince's head, and leans in to hover his lips just above Vince's, brushing over them as he speaks.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Ryan takes Vince's lower lip in between his teeth, nipping gently before pulling away to trail his lips to Vince's neck. Vince closes his eyes and rests his head on the wall behind him, almost sure that he's going to lose it at any second. He feels Ryan's mouth moving over his skin, his teeth grazing over his collarbone, and his wet kisses spanning down his chest. By the time Ryan is gently biting at Vince's hip, he has to remind himself to breathe. Ryan's finds himself in an odd stance, somewhere between kneeling and standing, with one hand firmly pressed against Vince's chest, and the other brushing over the inside of Vince's thigh. He can feel Vince tremble under his touch, but Ryan wants to wait until Vince's eyes are locked with his to move further.

A few seconds pass, and Vince finally registers Ryan has stilled. His eyes creep open, and he looks down at Ryan, eyes fighting to focus. The look that passes from the deep blue pool of Ryan's eyes to Vince's intense, dark orbs is absolutely electric, and charged with an energy that was beyond all description. It takes Vince's breath away, and he knows Ryan's hand pressed to his chest is the only thing keeping him upright.

Ryan drops his eyes, and moves to take Vince into his mouth, his smooth movements seemingly so surreal. Vince's hand grips tighter into Ryan's silken curls as Ryan swirls his tongue delightfully slow, yet insistent over the length of Vince's shaft. He can't fight it any longer, and Vince lets his head fall back again, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment.

He can feel his heart pounding against Ryan's hand as it's splayed over his chest, and he raises his hand to slowly trail his fingers up Ryan's arm, until his own hand is resting on top of Ryan's. He weaves his fingers through Ryan's, and moves their hands away from his chest, before dipping his head to skate his lips over the inside of Ryan's wrist. Ryan moans around Vince as he nips at his wrist, and Vince hums affirmatively against his sensitive skin in return.

Vince vaguely remembers a saying he heard once, something about how every tattoo tells a story. As he grazes his teeth over the dark ink on the inside of Ryan's wrist, he can't help but wonder what story these tattoos could be trying to tell. It occurs to Vince that there's so many things about Ryan that he doesn't really know, and it strikes him as odd just how well you can know someone, yet not really know them at all. He's seen the storm that clouds Ryan's blue eyes in the throes of passions, yet he's lost when it comes to the dark storm that plays in Ryan's eyes whenever he so much as hears Mike's name. It's bizarre how you can be friends with someone, brothers on the ice, and know their life story, yet have no idea what makes them who they are. Vince knows the control Ryan exerts when they're together sets his blood on fire, but he doesn't have a clue about the inner workings that drive it. He suddenly finds himself wondering if maybe Ryan's intense need to always be in control is some sort of messed up defense mechanism, and he's even willing to bet it all has something to do with a certain starting goaltender for the Phoenix Coyotes.

Every second that passes, and every movement Ryan's takes, make it increasingly harder for Vince to hold onto such thoughts. The languid line Ryan's tongue is painting over his rigid flesh, and the way Ryan's fingers are moving over his skin, make it nearly impossible for Vince to think of anything outside of the wet heat of Ryan's mouth wrapped around him. He loosens his grip on Ryan's wrist, and Ryan moves his newly freed hand to Vince's cock, pressing circles into every inch of flesh his mouth couldn't reach. Vince lets his hand fall numbly to Ryan's shoulder, and he digs his nails in slightly.

The sensations that are coursing through Vince's system are maddening, and his knees buckle slightly. He sags back against the wall, closing his eyes as the room seems to spin. He lets out a low throated moan, and instinctively tightens his grip on Ryan shoulder, only to have his actions met by a pained gasp from Ryan. Vince's eyes immediately fly open, and he shoots his gaze down to Ryan, suddenly remembering the shoulder surgery Ryan underwent two seasons ago. A wave of guilt washes over him as Ryan pulls away, an action that would make him whimper shamelessly under any other circumstances. Ryan steadies himself by gripping onto Vince's thigh and leaning into him slightly.

A few seconds pass, and Ryan looks up, his steely blue irises meeting Vince shifting gaze. Vince spends what seems like an eternity trying to read Ryan's eyes, only to find them utterly expressionless for the first time all night.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, it slipped my mind, and," Vince meekly stammers, letting his voice trail off at the end. He's pretty sure he doesn't need to keep talking after an infuriatingly smug smirk appears on Ryan's lips, and his eyes light up with the usual tenacity.

"You can't break me, Captain. It's impossible."

Vince's eyes drag over Ryan as he takes in his words, dissects them, and pulls apart the tone in which they were spoken. It doesn't take a genius to realize Ryan wasn't speaking in the physical sense. He wasn't saying Vince couldn't break him physically, he was saying Vince couldn't break him emotionally. It isn't possible. Ryan's already broken, he's built up a protective wall around the pieces of his heart, and the challenging tone in Ryan's voice said that he wasn't going to let Vince break through it.

Vince becomes entrenched in Ryan's words, and it's evident his mind is everywhere but where Ryan wants it to be. He doesn't even register Ryan moving to stand and impose his body into his space, until Ryan's lips are hovering over his, barely brushing over them as he speaks.

"Get out of your head for once, Captain. Stop being such a buzzkill."

Vince swallows hard as Ryan's eyes bore into his, and he steels himself to make his next move, although he's not entirely certain what that is. He moves on impulse, completely guided by adrenaline, as he grabs at Ryan's upper arm and pulls him closer. He leans in for a kiss, only to stop himself short. "Fine. That's what you want? Turn around."

Ryan cocks an eyebrow at Vince's words, but does as instructed, slowly turning to face the wall. Vince moves to stand behind him, and runs both his hands down Ryan's arms, until he reaches his hands. He loops his fingers around Ryan's, and brings his hands up to rest on the wall, putting Ryan in the same pose he was in when Vince walked in. He keeps one hand over Ryan's, but moves to gently trail the other back down Ryan's arm, until his fingers are brushing over Ryan's shoulder blade. His fingers diligently trace the outline of every tattoo on Ryan's back, skating over the claddagh design inked on his side.

Vince runs his tongue along his upper lip, and leans into Ryan, resting his chin on his shoulder. Ryan can feel Vince's breath beating hot and heavy on the back of his neck, and it makes his pulse race. His skin prickles as Vince's touch drags over his back and side. Ryan's eyes dart about wildly, trying to focus on Vince's face in his periphery. He sees flashes of white as Vince brings his hand to his own mouth, and draws his fingers in with a sucking pull. After a few seconds spent with his heart pounding out of his chest, Ryan feels Vince's fingers trail back down his body, wet and hot. His breath hitches in his chest as Vince's touch brushes over his skin, teasing his opening. Ryan rests his forearms against the wall, leaning on them for support and hanging his head as his breath escapes him in a shaky whoosh. Every muscle in Ryan's body tenses, and his vision blurs as Vince smoothly slips a finger inside him, working it in a way that leaves him breathless and wanting more. "Ple-"

"What was that, Malone? Were you trying to say something? Were you starting to...beg?"

"You know I don't beg," Ryan manages to get out through gritted teeth. He hears his voice escape him, but he almost can't believe it's his own. It sounds far too pleading, strained, and impatient to be coming from him.

Vinny drags his tongue in a languid, wandering line over the back of Ryan's neck before hovering his mouth next to Ryan's ear and whispering in a thick, velvet tone.

"Except for when I make you."

His words aren't even two seconds old before Vince is gently sliding a second finger into Ryan, causing his knees to buckle slightly. Ryan tries to ignore Vince's airy laugh as it echoes in his ear, and the feeling of his breath as it sweeps over his cheek. What he can't ignore, however, is the intense heat building inside of him with each movement Vince makes.

"Fuck, Vince. Please," Ryan pants. The heated combination of want and need has him arching his hips back, forcing Vince's fingers deeper, and sending his world spiraling out of control. He's never been this receptive, or this unguarded, and Ryan feels what little control he has left being stripped away with each and every sensation that courses thorough this body.

Vince is struck by how beautiful his name sounds falling from Ryan's lips, and how vulnerable he is in that moment. It's something he's never seen before in Ryan, or maybe he's always just been too wrapped up in everything else to notice it. Vince knows Ryan isn't even aware of what he's just said, but he can't just ignore it. He has always wondered if Ryan's incessant use of his title as Captain was a subconscious way of distancing himself from him, and possibly their entire situation. To Vince's ears, Ryan breathlessly uttering his name has the exact same sound as Ryan's self imposed wall slowly being torn down. It wasn't much, perhaps just a single brick falling from place, but it was enough.

Every emotion rushes through Vince within seconds, and he's struck my the overwhelming need to be close to Ryan, around him, over him, inside him. He slowly withdraws his fingers, making sure to gently brush them over Ryan's skin. He slides his body closer, until his chest is against Ryan's bare back, and his groin is pressing, achingly hard, against the sensitive skin of Ryan's ass. Vince reaches between them and gently wraps his fingers around his own rigid flesh, before moving to slide himself into position. He brushes the head of his cock over Ryan's heated opening, drawing out every movement.

As much as Vince wanted to get to this point, he also doesn't want it to ever be over. He wants to take in every single sensation, every single second. He grabs onto Ryan's hip, steadying them both, and sucks in a shaky breath as he slowly pushes in. Vince's world almost immediately spirals out of control, but he moves slowly, taking his time and trying to make sure they both feel every single movement. As skin slides tight skin, Vince swears that every movement feels different, and each slow thrust sends him closer to some invisible edge.

He can tell Ryan is rushing closer to that same place himself, because his breathing becomes erratic, and almost barking as it escapes him. Vince is absolutely mesmerized as he watches the rhythm of Ryan's breathing, and the pulling of every muscle in his back as he gets closer to release. Ryan puts all his weight on one hand, and peels the other away from the wall, moving to slowly wrap his fingers around himself.

Through his haze, Vince watches the fluid motions of Ryan's hand sliding over his cock, and usually Ryan touching himself is something Vince could watch forever, but this time, he has a different need. He slides his hand over Ryan's, and gently draws it back, only to replace it with his own.

"Not yet. Wait for me," Vince whispers breathlessly against Ryan's ear. He can feel himself starting to tumble over the edge, and he doesn't want to go alone. Vince pushes deeper, and slowly slides back, working his hand over Ryan as he does.

Ryan's ragged breathing grows louder, and his entire body tenses so tight Vince is worried he might break in two. Ryan doesn't know how much longer he can hold out, and a sound that is somewhere between a growl and words escape him through clenched teeth. "Fuck, Vin, I-"

"Oui. Maintenant," Vince gasps out into Ryan's ear, fully unaware that he's speaking in French. Not that it even matters.

Vince's breathy words and the sensations coursing through Ryan have him coming apart, spilling over Vince's hand. He utters a low 'fuck', drawing out the first letter into a gutteral hiss as his hands clutch at the tile wall. Vince finally gets what he wanted, the feeling of Ryan's release pushing him over the edge. He bites at his lower lip and slams his eyes shut, the heat pulsing through his body as he rides the waves of ecstasy.

It may have been hours, or it may have been minutes that they remained still, trying to catch their breaths and let the world return to normal. All Vince knows is that he desperately wants to never have to move again, and all Ryan knows is letting Vince have control once in awhile might not be the worst idea he's ever had.