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Ryan has been shifting around all day, restless.
It's not hard to notice by any means, but it definitely helps that James is always watching him. Every single time they break between interviews, he slumps over in his chair, letting out big gusts of air like he hasn't been breathing while the cameras are on. His hands are ever so slightly shaky, his knee bounces, he worries his lip between his teeth.
Something's wrong. James has no idea what it is.
Ryan is an omega, which is actually not a surprise to anyone at all once you get to know him. Which isn't to say that secondary gender stereotypes are at all true, because James doesn't subscribe to that bullshit and he never has. That's probably because he's a beta - everyone seems to think alphas and omegas are the only people who can have freak sex, but James and his vast experience would beg to differ.
None of that is the point. The point is that the default expectation that everybody operates on is that every major-motion-million-dollar-celebrity male is an alpha, except for those of them who are open about it. Ryan's not open about it. Ryan's not open about anything, really.
Ryan wears scent blockers to set and he takes heat suppresants, at least while he's shooting. James knows this because he stumbled across the tablets while fucking around in Ryan's trailer, and Ryan hadn't said anything, but his face said everything.
After that, they never really talked about it, but Ryan got more lax about taking them in front of James. He has an alarm, every Friday at 8:30, and he used to go into the bathroom to take them, but now he just asks James with his eyes and James goes. He's strict about it - he never misses. It freaks him out if he's even a minute off schedule. He doesn't like going out to parties and events on Fridays because they're so much more unpredictable than being at home, but push comes to shove he'll pop one in the bathroom while pretending to have raucous sex with someone inside.
Ask James how he knows.
"You good?" James asks, offering a cup of water to Ryan. Ryan takes it, grateful, and chugs the thing down clean.
"Just, uh, stomach pains," Ryan mutters. "Nothing serious."
"Nothing serious?" James laughs, incredulous. "You look like shit, Ryan."
"You really know how to make a girl feel special," Ryan says dryly.
James quirks his lip, but he doesn't fall for the deflection.
"Y'know, if you want I can ask us to reschedule," he says. "We've only got one interview left, I'm sure the others won't mind waiting a day."
"No," Ryan says, but his voice is strained.
"Are you sure?"
"Like you said, it's only one interview. After that I can go to the hotel and take some Tylenol. I'll be fine."
James frowns, but he doesn't argue any more. There'd be no point, plus he doesn't wanna agitate Ryan when he's already in pain. And Ryan's smiling at him - he's always been weak for that.
"If you say so," he says.
Ryan smells like whiskey, mint, cedar, and the slightest note of smoke.
It's not a very omega-esque scent, but then what is an 'omega-esque' scent? Flowers? Fruit? Honey? James tries to envision Ryan smelling like any of that and it just feels… wrong. He likes his cedar-mint-smoke scent. And, he figures, he smells like what matters most: omega.
That's why he wears scent blockers. That's why anyone wears scent blockers, really, but it hits James like a slap in the face the first time he really smells Ryan without the blockers on. It's early in the morning and he's sleeping on the floor (which will be terrible for his back later, he knows) and he's knocked back by the overwhelming scent of Ryan that engulfs the room. Even as a beta, the scent is so powerful it makes him dizzy. So it's not surprising that he uses blockers.
James likes that scent, though. He thinks about it sometimes late at night.
(That doesn't mean anything.)
Ryan takes a separate car back to the hotel, which James tries not to look too deeply into. Is he alright? Is this something more severe than just an upset stomach? Why is he trapped in the car with all these people when he should be with his - Ryan?
He's worried. He's more than worried - he's irritated, because it's just now occuring to him, somehow, that he should've asked more questions. Because why would Ryan take a separate car back? Why would he refuse to take a day off when he knows that everyone would do everything to accomodate him? Why would he not just do the interview tomorrow?
Unless he couldn't, he thinks, drumming his fingers against the car door. He probably looks insane to everyone else. Is Ryan sick? Is he coming down with something? No, because that wouldn't make his stomach hurt, that'd make his nose start running and he'd be coughing. He'd gotten sick once on set before. James had forcefed him soup and Benadryl until he'd gotten better. This is something else. Is he under some kind of threat? No, he wouldn't be. James would be able to tell, for one - for all that Ryan is able to physically hide his nerves, he's got an aura. Don't ask James to explain it, because he can't - it's just there. It can't be something relating to his personal life, like his sister, 'cause he would've just taken off then and there. He wouldn't have sat through the interview, and he wouldn't have faked sick just to not get out of it anyways. Ryan's not a pussy.
Unless he couldn't, he thinks. Unless he couldn't.
Shit.
Shit.
James has helped alphas through ruts and omegas through heats. He has his fair share of toys, although they're more necessary for heats than they are for ruts. With ruts, it's really just any hole you can knot. Omegas need a knot. James doesn't have one.
But James has toys. And James likes toys.
"Ryan? You in there?" James calls, rapping his knuckles against Ryan's hotel room door. 1405, right across the hall from him. There's no answer, but James can hear a faint, low groan, so he tries again. "Ryan? It's James."
"'m - fine…" Ryan groans.
"No, you're not."
"Fuck do you know?"
James laughs a little. "I know you don't talk to anyone like that, and you definitely don't talk to me like that. Ryan, let me in."
"I'll be fine," he repeats.
"Ryan…"
"You can't help me with this."
"Yes, I can."
"You're - James, you're a beta."
"You think I don't know that? Let me in, Ry."
He doesn't mean for the nickname to slip out. He never does. It's too fond, too familiar, and he knows he feels that way but he never really knows if Ryan does.
But he hears Ryan sigh, and the door unlocks.
James shoves into the room. Ryan is leaned up against the wall, arm over his stomach. His eyes are squeezed shut and he's breathing heavy. He's wearing a loose, threadbare shirt and pajama pants that look just as old. Nesting, his mind supplies. He doesn't have anyone else to nest with.
"James, I appreciate the thought, I really do, but -"
"I have a knot."
Ryan's eyes fly open in pure confusion. "You what?"
"Well, it's not real, but I have one. Listen, trust me -"
"Knotted dildos don't do anything for me, James, I've tried."
"It's a good thing this isn't that, then, right?"
"…What?"
James pulls the little thing out of his pocket. It's unassuming as is, it honestly just looks like a cock ring - but it's not.
"Click of a remote control and it inflates. Like a real knot. And it won't put pressure on my cock, Ryan. I'll come."
Ryan eyes the thing suspiciously. "And it - works?"
"You could take my word for it," James says. "Or you could ask all the other omegas I've fucked out of heats. What do you wanna do, Ryan?"
Ryan sighs. Looks at James, looks at his hand, looks at the floor, and sighs again.
And then he pulls him in.
James' lips smashing into Ryan's is pure heaven. The kiss is clumsy at first, Ryan's nose digging into his cheek, James' glasses getting knocked out of place, but he doesn't care. Up this close he can smell Ryan, even through the scent blockers, and he smells like heaven.
He tilts his head for a better angle, letting Ryan bite and suck and lick his lips, rabid animal. He fists a hand in his shirt, brings the other one up to cup his head, and runs his tongue over Ryan's lips. He gasps, mouth falling open, and James takes the bait. He licks inside Ryan's mouth, tastes the aftertaste of wintergreen on his teeth, and then nothing but the heat of his mouth. Wet, wetter than it should be, and he shoves a knee in between Ryan's legs just to give him something to grind on.
"Fuck - !" Ryan swears. He's wet as hell, James can feel that now. His slick is seeping through his pants and onto James' thigh.
"Yeah?" he pants into his mouth. "You like that?"
"Yeah," Ryan whines.
James starts kissing down his jaw, kissing down his neck where his pulse points are. He breathes him in, dizzying, intoxicating whiskey, and licks at the sweat that drips down his Adam's apple.
"Taste so good," he whispers. Ryan's hips move against his leg, and James can feel his dick through the fabric now - hard, throbbing. "I knew you would."
He keeps kissing Ryan's neck, nothing more. Ryan ruts against his leg with more and more urgency, but James doesn't wanna do anything until he asks for it. For one, it makes him feel kinda gross to just manhandle Ryan into bed, no matter how willing he seems for it, and for two…
Well, he thinks it'd be hot to watch Ryan beg.
It doesn't take long. Ryan's nails are digging into his shoulders, blunt but still long enough that he's sure there'll be crescent-shaped marks there in the morning, and his face is flushed. He pants, open mouthed, lips wet and glistening, making the most delicious noises. And then:
"Please."
James tries not to smile. "Please what?"
"James," Ryan whines. "You know. Don't make me say it."
"I have to make you say it," James says. "I wanna know you want it."
Ryan sighs, throwing his head back against the wall, though it's less from pleasure and more because he's a dramatic dickhead. "I - I want you - I want your -"
James says nothing. Ryan groans.
"How old are you, again?" James mutters.
"I want your knot," Ryan snaps. "I want your dick inside me. Happy?"
"Very."
He takes his leg out from under Ryan, who nearly collapses before James puts his arms under Ryan's. Ryan falls forward onto him, and it's by sheer willpower alone he doesn't topple over.
"You alright?"
Ryan nods into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around James' neck. James sighs, then crouches so he can get his hands under Ryan's legs and carry him to the bed. His leg is disgustingly wet, Ryan's slick having soaked the thing through, and the fabric clings to his thigh. It's disgusting, but James would also be lying if he claimed his dick didn't twitch at the feeling.
And the scent. God, the scent.
James deposits Ryan onto his bed, where he drapes himself across luxury covers and just… looks at James. James rolls his eyes, divesting himself of his shirt and his pants (he still has the toy in his fist) until he's standing there in his boxers, looking at Ryan, who is steadily soaking through his pants and making no move to take them off.
"Do I have to do everything for you?"
"Hey, you asked," Ryan says. "You can leave and I'll be just fine on my own."
James looks at him over his glasses. "Not even someone overdosing on suppresants would believe that, Ryan."
It's crass but it works - Ryan whines in annoyance and starts shimmying his pants off. James realizes, with growing arousal, that he's commando - his slick glistens, and James licks his lips. He wants to taste it so bad.
So he does.
Ryan squeaks when James advances on him, lowering his face to Ryan's ass rather than his face.
"Wha - ?"
James licks a long, thick strip up his crack, and Ryan wails like a bitch in heat. Or - well.
Once he gets a taste, he's addicted. Ryan tastes sweet in a way that should feel disconcerting, considering his scent, but James isn't surprised at all. He goes back in for it, licking up Ryan's slick while he shifts and tries to squeeze his legs together. James puts his hands on Ryan's thighs, keeping them spread. He tastes like heaven, smells like heaven, sounds like heaven. Might actually be heaven, or an angel come down from the heavens to bless his poor soul. His hands fly to James' hair, tangling in it and staying there, gripping and tugging in time with his moans.
"James… please…" Ryan groans as James' tongue breaches his hole. He's tight and wet and hot and James could die a happy man right here. "Fuck - I need - need your knot!"
He gasps, hands tightening in James' hair. It's good to know he's still got it, but reluctantly, he detatches. He wipes at his mouth and Ryan watches him with half-lidded eyes, his scent dominating the room. It's spicier, now, stronger, and it makes James lightheaded. He crawls up the bed, bracketing Ryan's head with his hands before leaning down to kiss him. It's sloppier, fueled with lust and want and need and Ryan's hips buck up into his, cock rubbing against James' boxers.
"Shit," James hisses. "God, you feel so good."
Ryan hooks a thumb into James' waistband, eyes questioning. James nods, and Ryan pulls them off with strength so unnecessary he nearly rips them in half. Which wouldn't be unappealing.
"Please, please, please," Ryan chants, and James laughs a little while he slides the ring into place, checks that the remote is still with him. He's already leaking pre so there's not much friction to speak of, which is nice. He doesn't think he's ever gotten this hard for anyone in his entire life.
"So eager," he hums.
"Yeah, yeah, I am, please, James, please!"
Ryan sounds so sweet begging, so James really has no other choice but to push in. Ryan's every bit as perfect as he'd expected, so accomodating despite the minimal (read: non-existent) prep, his hole fluttering and clenching around James' dick. He swears and groans as he bottoms out, and then watches with glee as Ryan's mouth falls open at the feeling.
He doesn't move at first, waits for Ryan to get comfortable with it. This isn't his first heat, and he's not the young dumb piece of shit he used to be, thinking omegas always wanted brutal, punishing paces. He'd gotten chewed out pretty quickly for that, actually. So he waits for a sign on Ryan's face that shows he wants James to move, that it's not too overwhelming, that -
"James!"
Yeah, that's good enough.
He rocks back and forth, gentle at first, relishing in the sweet, sweet noises he can pull from Ryan. He keens, high-pitched cries that should maybe annoy James but just make him want the man even more. He looks so pretty like this, already so desperate and horny. There are tears beading in the corners of his eyes and they just increase as James starts to pick up his pace.
"Oh - g-god -" Ryan stutters, his chest heaving rapidly. His legs come up to wrap around James, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows, whining at the change in angle.
"So good, so wet, so tight," James pants. "Such a good omega for me."
James kind of can't believe those words came out of his mouth, and he really hopes Ryan isn't gone enough to start calling him Alpha. He's never liked that. He's not operating on some sort of fantasy that he is one - just that he can do the same thing they can, and alphas aren't shit, really.
They're definitely not shit when Ryan looks like this beneath him, cock bobbing red and untouched but drooling onto his stomach. He looks like a wet dream. And James is close already, embarassingly quickly.
Ryan urges him on, faster, harder, deeper, harder, more, more, more, and James obliges, gives him exactly what he wants. Ryan's clawing at the sheets, whining and babbling, squeezing his eyes shut and then forcing them wide open like he can't decide whether or not he can handle it.
"So - shit - so good - James, James, right there, please, James, feel so good, I can't - can't - fuck - ghk - !!"
Ryan shoots all over himself, back arching, and that's all James needs to follow suit. It feels like his eyes roll back in his head, like he's reached fucking Nirvana or something inside of Ryan's ass, and he just barely remembers to press the remote to plug him up.
"Jesus!" Ryan shrieks, as his hole stretches around the knot. It amazes James every time, how quickly omegas go dumb for this stuff. His dick is still hard, somehow, and it dribbles out come again, Ryan sobbing around the knot.
"Told you it'd work," James mumbles, still rocking back and forth even though the knot has him locked pretty firmly in place. "See what I mean now?"
"Yeah," Ryan pants, exhausted. But his dick is still hard and James is under no impression that he's done.
"You need to go again?"
Ryan laughs. "I need to go again."
(When they both wake up the morning after, they have sweet, gentle morning sex that feels like it should definitely be impossible considering the heat is still going. But they manage it, Ryan still loose and fucked out from the night before, James in no hurry.
When he's about to come, Ryan bares his neck - his mating gland - to James, like he's supposed to do something. He's not an alpha, and for the first time in his life, he feels genuinely mournful for it, because Ryan deserves his bite there, marking him and claiming him.
So instead, James presses kisses and licks and bites to his mating gland, and then he sucks at the skin so hard Ryan comes off of that alone. And then he keeps sucking it, trying to leave the world's most permanent hickey.
At the least, it's not gonna heal up by next week, which is when press starts up again. And it's high enough on the collar that Ryan's either gonna need heavy makeup to cover it up, or he'll have to wear turtlenecks.
Or maybe he'll just go sans cover up, let the whole world see his hickey and wonder who the hell marked him up.
Yeah, James likes that idea.)