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Naim watches Ryan with his head rolled back against the back of his janky seat on their second bus of the day as Ryan watches the passing scenery, absently fiddling with Naim's rings where he has his hand between the other's. They're near the back, and the sun is setting to cast a warm, orangish glow on the pale slopes of Ryan's profile.
"You remember what we did last time we were at the back of a bus together?" He can feel the cheeky smile on his face, contrasting with the rising heat in his cheeks at the memory.
His eyes track Ryan as he puffs out a laugh, his head ducking, before he turns to look at Naim. "Yes, obviously." He says, mocking, but there's no real scathe to it. His voice feels like a soothing balm on Naim's aches and sores.
Naim breaks out into a beam, giggling quietly as he lifts Ryan's hands with his own. "I can't believe I let you do that." He murmurs, almost whispering now, like they're conspiring. He presses the bottom of his smile to Ryan's knuckles.
"Let me?!" Ryan practically squawks, looking so incredibly affronted and adorable. "You were keening for it, from what I remember!" Naim's covering his mouth with his hand after Ryan releases it to gesticulate, smothering any further commentary.
"Shut up," Naim grits, through a grin, looking around at the few people who had turned their heads at Ryan's uproar. "Fuck, okay! I can't believe we did that." He raised his eyebrows. "Is that better?"
He moves his hand when Ryan finally subsides, though his eyes are still narrowed. "Now I'm worried about you warping stories. How often do you do that?"
Naim chokes out a laugh, shaking his head. "I don't know! I try not to?" He tries not to pay attention to the part of his mind that goes running to the pastor's house and telling a story that he had lived.
Ryan doesn't seem to note the flicker, if he even catches it. "Yeah, yeah. That's what they all say," he looks at him suspiciously, playfully, and Naim chuckles and bats him in the arm.
They go quiet for a moment after that, and Naim rests his head on Ryan's shoulder.
Naim turns over what he's going to say next in the humming silence of the bus for long enough that when he finally does say it, it's low and stuttered. "On the bus and... In the mill... Why-- why am I always the one getting..." He can't even finish the sentence, trailing off as he lifts his head to meet Ryan's eyes.
"...What?" Ryan asks, looking genuinely lost, and Naim looks down to the silver of his chain on his neck.
He huffs and tries again. "Like... Why don't you ever want me to touch you?" He says, his eyes flicking back up when he finds his words.
Ryan seems to take a moment to process the words before his face does a weird, stuttery thing, and he whips his head away from Naim's scrutiny. "That's not--" he shakes his head, like he's trying to figure out what he's trying to say. "Don't worry about that, Naim." He says, glancing at Naim from the corner of his eye.
Naim feels his brows furrow. "What?" He asks, because it's all he's thinking, and when Ryan doesn't respond, he adds: "I wanna make you feel good."
Ryan looks back to him quickly, shaking his head. "You do. You make me feel good." He says, voice adamant, and it makes Naim believe him, however foolishly. "So... Why does it have to be more than that? More than what we do now?" He looks at Naim through his eyelashes, warily, like he's worried how he'll respond. If he'll yell.
Naim doesn't yell. He watches Ryan for a while before relenting. "...Okay." he sighs, and he knows that Ryan can tell he's not truly done with the subject.
"Okay," Ryan breaths in reply, leaning down to rest his head against Naim's shoulder.
—
It doesn't prove to be much of a problem in the following weeks when they hardly have the time or energy between travel and talking to social workers and trying to find somewhere to sleep to pay attention to each other like they want to.
It's only after their second night in the room in a youth shelter that they had secured (together, after being deemed some sort of bonded pair, like rescue dogs) that they can take a moment to be together in the same bed without being knocked out cold.
Ryan is leaning up against the headboard of "Naim's" bed (they both sleep there) and brushing his fingers through Naim's hair as he buries his face in Ryan's tummy. "Mmm, missed you," the brunet mumbles against Ryan's shirt, and Ryan huffs a laugh.
"We literally haven't been apart for weeks." He humours, pulling on Naim's hair a little to get him looking up at Ryan's face.
Naim takes a moment to reply, blinking slowly. "'s different. You know that." He practically whispers against Ryan, so quiet he almost can't hear him.
Ryan can't help the sickeningly soft smile that spills across his face at the smallness of Naim's voice. "I do. I know."
Naim blinks at Ryan a few more times before he's pressing his lips to Ryan's stomach, and then again, tilting his head back down to devote himself to his newfound task of kissing every bit of Ryan he can get to through his clothes.
Ryan huffs out a laugh and cards a hand through Naim's hair as he kisses up to his sternum and then down to the hem of his shirt, lifting himself up onto his forearms to reach better. Naim can feel Ryan's breaths getting heavier as he pushes up the fabric of his shirt and follows every inch of newly exposed skin with a kiss, increasingly sloppy until he's licking and biting at the ridge of Ryan's ribs. Ryan eagerly pulls Naim up into a kiss when he starts to push Ryan's shirt off his chest, licking hungrily past his lips and rolling them over.
Naim lands under Ryan with a pleased sound, his hands moving to slide across Ryan's broad shoulders and back. Ryan breaks away after a moment, panting, to slide his hand down Naim's front to grope at where his dick is already hard, feeling him through his pyjama pants. Naim nods at the feeling, a short sound rumbling from the back of his throat, and he shoves his hands under Ryan's shirt, along his ribs, down, down.
He's looking at the shadows where he can see his hands through Ryan's shirt when he freezes, so he feels it more than he sees it. His fingers are just barely brushing the waistband of Ryan's boxers, peeking out from above his sleep shorts, and Ryan has gone stock still above him. Naim looks up to Ryan's face, but Ryan is moving before he can see his expression. He knocks Naim's hands out of the way as he moves to kneel between Naim's thighs, fingers already working deftly at the knot holding his pants in place.
Naim watches for a moment, stunned, before he pipes up. "Ryan."
Ryan flinches like he was expecting it, like he was really hoping it wouldn't happen. He doesn't look up as he sticks a hand down Naim's pants and starts palming him through his underwear, hand rough and shaking.
Naim's breath stutters but he stands his ground. "Ryan, stop. I mean it." Ryan stops. He still doesn't look up, even as he carefully extracts his hand from Naim's pants, even as he worries his fingers together in his lap. Naim sits up, studying Ryan.
He doesn't know how long it is before he speaks. "Did something... Happen?" He asks, quietly, and he feels stupid for being scared of the question. Of the answer.
Ryan's gaze finally cuts up to his, through his lashes, but just for a moment. He shakes his head, but he's wringing his hands so hard that they're white in some places and red in others.
Naim sighs, tucking his legs under himself to sit cross-legged. He holds out his hands in front of Ryan, a silent offer. Ryan stares at his palms, like he's worried they'll hurt him, before he places his hands in them. Naim pulls their hands into his lap, his thumbs brushing against the backs of Ryan's hands. "You know you can tell me anything."
Ryan takes a moment before he nods, and Naim can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek. "So... So if someone... Hurt you or-- or did something to you--" his voice has an ugly crack before Ryan interrupts him.
"It's not like that." Ryan says quickly, and his voice is so quiet and rumbly that it makes Naim unsure if he even wants to be heard.
Ryan lowers himself down so he's sitting cross-legged, too, and their knees are touching. Naim nods. "Okay," he squeezes Ryan's hands, and he squeezes back. "So what is it like?" He tilts his head to try and catch Ryan's gaze. Naim's never seen him look so nervous, even when he found him at the bus stop. "Do you not like the idea of me... Touching you? You don't want that?" He asks slowly, even though it makes a hollowness ache into his chest.
Ryan looks at him again, just barely meeting his eyes. He looks like he's considering something, and he looks scared. Naim wants to hug him and hold him and tell him that it's okay, that he doesn't have to say anything he doesn't want to, but he waits.
"I should've told you something when... When we first started hanging out." Naim feels a lump forming in his throat, but nods for Ryan to continue. "It's... It's personal." He sort of puts a questioning inflection on his words, like he's uncertain of them.
"Okay, that's okay," Naim encourages, searching Ryan's face for answers.
Ryan swallows so thickly that Naim can hear his throat click, his lips flattening into a straight line and then evening out again. "I'm not..." Ryan looks away, and pulls his hands away from Naim's, and Naim tries not to physically react to the act. Ryan starts rubbing the heel of one of his hands against his sternum. "I'm not the same as you." He whispers, fragilely, maybe the only time Naim has heard him sound that way. "When I was born I wasn't... Right. And I knew it. And I think my parents did, too, but-- you know. They're my parents. And I grew up like that for a long time before I---" he shrugs. "Fixed it. And you've known me since then. But I can't... Change. Everything."
He looks at Naim like he expects him to be able to pick the meaning out of his abstract words, like he's explained everything and is waiting for a response. "Ryan," Naim starts, staring at him, trying to figure it out. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Ryan huffs, and scrubs his hands over his face so roughly that Naim can hear it. "I wasn't---" he punches a breath out of his lungs as he drops his hands, like he's angry that he has to say anything, that he's angry that his body exists. "I wasn't born a boy, okay?" He says through gritted teeth, not looking at Naim.
Naim blinks at Ryan, mouth falling open though no words come out.
"And I know I should have told you sooner, but i didn't know--- I didn't know this would-- and I guess I like to pretend it doesn't matter, that I won't ever have to tell anyone, that it doesn't change anything but I know it does but--" he meets Naim's gaze, his eyes charged and glistening in the low light. "I'm still a man. I am. I'm a boy, okay? I know I'm not normal, I know that." His voice cracks, and then the tears that had collected in his waterline are falling, and all Naim can do is sit there and look stupid.
"If you don't want me anymore, you can just say that," he croaks out, and he's wiping frantically at his tears with his sleeve so hard they're leaving trails of redness in their wake.
Naim's shaking his head before he's even done the sentence. "Hey, no, no, hey." He's reaching for Ryan before he can think twice, and Ryan lets himself be pulled so his face is pressed against Naim's shoulder, and Naim can hear him hiccup two panicky breaths before he's really crying, he's sobbing against Naim and his tears are soaking through Naim's shirt. Naim wraps his arms around his waist, feeling his back shudder and jerk with the force of his breaths and cries as Ryan's hands clutch onto his shirt.
"It's okay, I've got you," Naim tucks his face into the crook of Ryan's neck, his hands rubbing soothingly against his back, up and down his spine. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He presses a little kiss to Ryan's neck, and feels the sob that wracks through him after.
"I'm sorry," Ryan whines thickly against Naim's shoulder, and Naim shushes him.
"Don't." He whispers, hands moving to hold either side of Ryan's face and pull him back so he can look him in the eye. "You didn't do anything wrong, okay? I'm not mad. You're still you." He says, nodding when Ryan starts shaking his head. "Yes. Yes, stop that. You're still my Ryan, okay? And this-- I've never..." He sighs, feeling his throat tighten, but he pushes past it. "You'll have to be patient with me, okay?" He slides his thumbs under Ryan's eyes, wiping the tears that fall. "But it doesn't change anything, and I want to learn. I want to know you, Ryan," he smiles the best he can, knowing it wavers at the edges. "All of you."
He doesn't stop Ryan when he falls forward to press his face into Naim's chest. He lets him, he moves back, he rests against the head board and pulls Ryan to rest on him and hide his face in his shirt, in his belly. He pets his hair and traces words against his back that he's too scared to say aloud. He lets Ryan cry.
He doesn't know how long it is until Ryan's sobs turn into sniffles. Until his shudders turn into a squeeze of the hand. He doesn't really care.
He doesn't speak, and he doesn't ask Ryan to.
Ryan does, after a while. "Sorry about your shirt." He mumbles, turning to press the side of his face against the dampness there. He looks tired.
Naim shakes his head. "Shut up, cunt," He murmurs, and he can feel Ryan chuckle against him. It feels like a weight off his chest. "I don't care about this shirt."
Ryan hums, his eyes fluttering shut as Naim brushes the hair out of his face. "My parents always wanted a son." He says softly, his voice almost a hum. "I guess that's why they didn't fight it so much when I came out. They got my hormones, and my mom took me for my haircut, to get new clothes." He puffs something of a laugh. "All in a different town, obviously."
He shakes his head a little. "Did it all during the summer. They registered me under a new name at school the next year and I claimed to be my own cousin. I was young enough that I could start over like that."
Naim can feel a stirring of something in his gut, but he can't place what it is, so he stays quiet.
"I've never told anyone." Ryan whispers, lifting his head to look Naim in the eyes. "They used to tell me that if I did, they would disown me."
His eyes were puffy and red. Naim wanted to scream. He wanted to kiss it all better. He wanted to take baby Ryan from his parents and take proper care of him. He wanted to hurt them.
Naim drags Ryan up by his armpits until they're face-to-face and Ryan's laid fully on top of Naim, and Naim can wrap his arms around his waist and tuck his face away in his neck.
"They chose my name for me," Ryan is still whispering, relaxing on top of Naim. "Chose my first haircut. Chose all my clothes. I feel fucking stupid for hating it. I feel stupid for not being grateful that they let me be who I am."
Naim shakes his head. They didn't, he wants to say. They took your dreams and shaped them to fit their model. You deserved to experiment. You deserved to be unsure.
Instead, he rolls them onto their sides, tugging the blanket up over them. "I like you." He mutters in the space between Ryan's neck and the mattress.
Ryan shifts, the tip of his nose brushing along the line of Naim's shoulder. "I like you, too."
—
"Yes, okay, yep. Alright, thank you. Yeah. You got it. No problem. Thanks so much. See you soon. Yeah." Naim has been watching Ryan attempt to herd their social worker out of their new flat for the past ten minutes, standing a reasonable ten feet away from them at all times as she thinks of more and more things to say. "Yep. Yeah, I have your number. And your email. I will let you know. Okay? Okay. Thank you. Good night."
When he finally clicks the door shut, Naim laughs as he presses his back to it and sighs heavily. "Fucking hell." he groans, scrubbing at his face. "I get that, like, it's her job, or whatever, and she helped us get the place, but fuck." He drags his fingers down his face as he looks up, but his eyes start to glint humorously when they catch on Naim's smile.
Naim beckons Ryan to him, dragging him the rest of the way to him by his belt loop when he stops a foot away. "She is a miracle worker." He says, leaning in to nudge their noses together.
Ryan tuts, shaking his head. "Two months is nothing. Bet I could do it in two days." He smirks at Naim, his teeth catching on his bottom lip, and Naim is so incredibly fond of him.
Despite this, he rolls his eyes. "You're an ungrateful twat." He says, grabbing Ryan by his chin and shaking his head around until his hand gets batted away. He instead grabs Ryan by the back of his neck, pulling him in to kiss him tenderly.
Ryan sighs against him, wrapping his arms around Naim's waist. "I'm so glad I'll never have to use that fucking shared bathroom ever again." He whispers wistfully against Naim's lips, rolling his head back and closing his eyes like he's daydreaming about a private washroom.
Naim barks out a laugh, shoving at Ryan's shoulders. He doesn't push any further when Ryan just pulls him back in. "What time is your shift tomorrow?" He says, voice quiet, as he fiddles with the collar of Ryan's shirt, the winking silver of his necklace.
"Twelve. Yours?" He leans in to press his face against the side of Naim's, nosing along his cheek.
"One. We can sleep in a bit, eh?" He murmurs, leaning back to look at Ryan proper. "In our own fucking bed." Ryan's eyes are crinkled around the corners with his smile, and the warmth in his eyes almost wipes Naim out.
Ryan hums his agreement, rejoining their lips, like there's magnets pulling them together. Naim smiles against him and walks them back into their bedroom (their bedroom!) until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He parts from Ryan to turn them around and push him down onto the mattress, giggling at Ryan's affronted grunt and subsequent attempts to grab Naim.
He succeeds when he catches Naim by the shirt and tugs him down until they're wrestling on the bed, a messy tangle of limbs and breath as the fight for dominance. Naim can't stop laughing, and that's what he blames his loss on when Ryan points it out, perched atop Naim's hips.
"No, you just need to get good." Ryan says, drawing out the words to maximize Naim's annoyance.
Naim shakes his head. "Fuck off. I hate you." He says, moving to rest his hands on Ryan's hips. Ryan laughs triumphantly, resting his hands on the backs of Naim's and pulling him up to press against his stomach under his shirt. Ryan had gotten more comfortable taking his shirt off around Naim, letting him see with his tape on and off. Naim told him that he really doesn't need tape with how much he works out his chest, how flat it is already, but Ryan likes the extra reinforcement. Naim slides his hands up to Ryan's ribs as Ryan drops his hands to Naim's biceps, squeezing the flesh there.
Naim slides his thumbs over the thready texture of Ryan's tape, down his waist. He rests his palm against Ryan's tummy, and then pushes it up until it emerges from the collar of his shirt, holds Ryan's throat gently.
Ryan smiles gently down at him, reaching to pull off his shirt and toss it off, somewhere to the side. Naim licks his lips as he touches all over Ryan's naked torso, pressing and grabbing and rubbing. Ryan leans down to catch Naim's lips again, kissing him unhurriedly as he pushes Naim's shirt up.
Naim pulls back to tug his shirt off the rest of the way, swallowing thickly when Ryan starts groping at him. He runs his hands up and down Ryan's thighs, opening his mouth when Ryan presses two of his fingers against his lips and letting him slide them inside, against his tongue, across his teeth.
Ryan groans as Naim licks between his fingers, squeezing at his chest before he's leaning back onto his haunches, pulling his hand away from Naim's mouth and wiping his own spit all over Naim's cheek. He grins when Naim makes a disgusted face.
He slides his hands up and down Naim's chest and belly, watching him shiver as he gently traces his fingers on the downstroke. "I was thinking..." He murmurs, peering at Naim through his lashes mischievously.
"...Yes?" Naim prompts after a moment, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
Ryan huffs out a laugh, and abruptly looks a little shy. He takes one of his hands from where it's touching Naim and presses it against his own stomach, and the lower. "If you wanted to try..." He trails off as his fingers graze the seam of the crotch of his jeans.
Naim can feel his own face light up. "Yes. Yeah, absolutely. That's a fantastic idea." He's nodding so much that Ryan thinks his head might fly off his neck, and he laughs softly.
"Okay, okay." He grabs Naim's face, stopping the repetitive movement. He watches him for a moment. "I mean it when I say try. I don't... You have to be ready for me to change my mind." He shifts in Naim's lap, stroking his thumb against the edge of Naim's jaw.
Naim furrows his brows. "Of course. Of course, Ryan. Whatever you need." He says, grabbing Ryan's wrist and pressing a kiss to his palm.
Ryan just looks at him for a long moment, eyes soft and quiet.
"But I'd like to try..." Naim drawls, grinning as Ryan rolls his eyes and leans back. He takes the shift in weight as his opportunity to grab Ryan and flip them over, giggling at the oof sound that Ryan makes.
He doesn't fight when Naim pushes him up the bed by the backs of his thighs, kissing him hungrily and with probably too much tongue as he wrestles with Ryan's belt. Ryan puffs against Naim's lips when he takes too long battling with it and takes over, pulling it out from its loops and throwing it off to the side.
Naim kisses down Ryan's jaw and neck as he undoes his fly but he goes no further than that, sucking marks into Ryan's chest and stomach as he moves further and further down.
When he reaches the band of Ryan's boxers, he looks up at his face with his mouth still pressed against his skin. When Ryan gives him a little nod, he grins and continues.
He presses a kiss against Ryan through his pants, listening to the hitch in Ryan's breath before he leans back to pull his jeans off and throw them away from the bed. He leans back down to press kisses down Ryan's leg from his calf to his thigh until his nose is brushing against the fabric of his boxers.
He looks up at Ryan and he sees him propped up on his elbows, watching Naim closely with flushed cheeks and darkened eyes. Naim pauses for a moment to suck a mark into Ryan's thigh before he's leaning back onto his haunches, looking down at the apex of Ryan's thighs.
He feels like the air has been punched out of his lungs when he sees the damp spot already forming on the fabric covering Ryan, his hands sliding up to frame Ryan's pelvis, sliding his thumb against the heat at his core. Ryan gasps and shudders at the touch, and Naim looks to him again as he presses his thumb more firmly against where he figures his clit must be. Ryan pants heavily, experimentally rolling his hips up into the touch and groaning hesitantly at the feeling.
When Ryan looks back up to Naim's eyes from where he had been staring at his hand, Naim strokes the fingers of his other hand against Ryan's hipbone. "Can I see?" He doesn't realize that he's panting until he speaks and hears the breathiness of his own voice.
Ryan nods immediately, licking his lips. "Yes," he says, already lifting his hips off the bed.
Naim grins at him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down eagerly. He doesn't look away as he throws them away, eyes locked onto how Ryan presses his thighs together. "You want me to?" He asks quietly, hands sliding along Ryan's thighs.
Ryan smiles teasingly and Naim leans forward to press his nose against Ryan's knee. "Please?" He whispers against his skin, and Ryan relents with a shaky breath.
He allowed his thighs to fall open, displaying himself for Naim, and Naim has to take a steadying breath. He's been trying to do as much research as he can about how hormone replacement therapy can affect genitalia --- and vaginas in general, as he largely wasn't interested in them prior to Ryan --- but he still isn't ready for how pink and wet Ryan is.
He swallows thickly, eyes flickering up to check on Ryan as he traces his fingers towards the space between his thighs. Ryan jolts as he brushes a fingertip against him, looking down again. "What should I call this?" He mumbles, rubbing his thumb against Naim's clit once and then again when it makes him gasp.
"'s my dick." Ryan whispers breathlessly, his hips squirming.
Naim nods, locking eyes with Ryan again as he slides his thumb down through his folds to his entrance. "And this?" He breathes, pressing against him gently.
Naim can hear Ryan's throat click as he swallows. "I don't know," he murmurs, distracted. "My hole. My cunt."
Naim can't help the strangled little noise that escapes him at that, and he leans down to pepper kisses against Ryan's torso. "I don't know how." He mumbles when he looks up again, slipping his fingers through Ryan's folds. "Will you show me?"
Ryan's breath stutters out of him, but he nods, pushing Naim back by his shoulders before reaching down to his own cock. Naim knows that it's bigger than a normal clit because of Ryan's testosterone, but he hadn't expected to be so enthralled by it. He has to stop himself from grinding up against nothing as Ryan reaches down to his own hole and collects slick from there onto his fingers before dragging them up to his dick again. "'s very sensitive," Ryan mutters as he parts his middle and ring fingers around himself, slowly stroking up and down against the sides of his cock.
Naim can't look away and feels himself gripping at Ryan's thighs in a way that must be painful as he starts to rub three fingers against himself, and Naim can see his dick roll under the pressure. Ryan's panting and starting to groan quietly above him when he slides his fingers back down to press one into his cunt, thrusting it in and out of himself slowly. Naim knows he probably looks stupid with his mouth hanging open like a thirsty dog but he can't help it, whining and pulling at Ryan's wrist so he can replace his finger with his own.
Ryan gasps roughly at the feeling, and he clenches down around Naim, and Naim moans like an idiot. He is aching in his jeans but he doesn't care when Ryan is throwing his head back as he presses his thumb against his dick and fucks his finger in and out of Ryan's sopping cunt.
"You're so wet," he breathes, like he can't believe it. Ryan groans in response, twitching and grunting when Naim uses his other hand to rub against Ryan's cock like he'd shown him. "Can I give you another?" He whispers, looking up to Ryan's face again.
He does when Ryan nods, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed like he's focussed. He moans when Naim pushes them both inside, throwing an arm over his eyes. "You're so tight," Naim says under his breath.
Ryan's moaning properly now, and when Naim curls his fingers inside of him he groans roughly in chest. "Fuck, yeah," he moves his arm to grab at the sheets with both of his hands, looking down at Naim as he does it again, and again. "Oh, oh, yes--- yeah-- fuck!" His back is arching as Naim starts up his ministrations on Ryan's dick again with his fingers moving inside his cunt.
"Shit, Naim, Naim," he chants out Naim's name, and Naim is so fucking hard he feels like he's gonna die as Ryan's long, beautiful neck arches back and exposes the line of his throat. "Naim, wait, wait--" and then he's reaching down to grab Naim's wrist, and Naim is stopping.
"You want to stop?" He asks immediately, already pulling his fingers out of Ryan's hole, despite how he twitches in his pants when his cunt grips at him and tries to keep him inside.
Ryan shakes his head for a moment, catching his breath, before he replies. "No, wanna keep going," he sits up on his elbows, red and sweaty and beautiful, before leaning forward to tug Naim's sweats down just enough to pull out his cock. Naim has to catch himself from collapsing at the touch to his red, leaking dick, moaning through his teeth.
"Wanna..." Ryan guides Naim's dick to press against his own, and they both groan. "Yeah," he breathes as he ruts his hips up against Naim's cock.
Naim nods frantically, pressing his dick down firmly to Ryan's cunt and beginning to rock his hips against him. "Oh my fucking god." He gasps as Ryan lays back down and lets him take over, holding his cock down with a thumb on its head as he fucks against Ryan's dick.
With his other hand, he grips at Ryan's hip, holding him firmly as he slides his dick through his folds and slick over and over again. He can hear Ryan moaning, and himself, and the filthy sounds that they're making, as he speeds up, his brows furrowing. He's breathing in little bursts, now, his face furrowed like he's anguished.
"Ryan, I love it, I love it, 's so good," he whispers frantically, looking up to Ryan who's nodding back to him, his eyes fluttering and rolling.
Ryan makes a sound like he's choking, like he's drowning, before he whimpers high in his throat. "Naim, I'm gonna..." He squeezes his eyes shut so he can't see how Naim nods at his words but can feel his hips speed up, can feel him shove his other hand down to press his thumb into Ryan's hole. "Fuck! Oh my god, oh my god,"
Naim can't catch his breath, rutting desperately in short little thrusts against Ryan. "Please, please come, please," he heaves out, looking up just in time to see Ryan's eyes roll back and his back arch before his dick his twitching and throbbing and his cunt is squirting clear fluid all over Naim's cock and the bed as Ryan cries out.
Naim can't take a breath before he's finishing on Ryan's stomach and cunt with several sloppy, needy, thrusts, making a sound like he's sobbing as he rides it out until he's shaking and sensitive against Ryan.
He has to fight to shove his dick back in his pants before he falls to the mattress beside Ryan, flat on his front. "Holy fuck." He groans into the mattress.
Ryan doesn't say anything next to him, and Naim turns his head to look at him and finds him looking down at his body, at the come splattered up his stomach. He must feel Naim watching because he looks up, meeting his eyes with a little smile.
"You alright?" Naim whispers, rolling onto his side to look at Ryan properly, reaching out to grab one of his hands and tangle their fingers.
Ryan's smile deepens and he nods, leaning towards Naim and pressing his nose to his shoulder. "Yes. I'm okay." He whispers. "Thank you."
Naim kisses his cheek, once, twice. "Don't thank me." He says against the warm skin of Ryan's face.
They don't say anything else as they move to shower, brush their teeth, crawl into their freshly changed bedding, courtesy of Naim. Naim tucks himself up against Ryan's chest when they're under their sheets, letting his eyes fall closed.
Ryan smooths his hand down Naim's spine to the small of his back, pressing his nose into his hair. "We should do that again sometime." He says, and it makes Naim laugh sleepily.
"No shit." He whispers, pressing closer to Ryan, before he falls asleep.