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Naim just thought it was a little strange at first. He understood the hesitation, so he bided his time until Ryan grew more comfortable and opened up more—to more.
But even then, even once Ryan softened from just a glance, there was still no change.
They would kiss so sweetly and a hand would be palming Naim through his jeans within minutes before slipping under and handling the erection he would get from just kissing. It was embarrassing how affected he was, but Ryan never made him feel ashamed for it.
In those moments, they would be so close, and Naim revelled in that feeling. He tucked it within the cavern of his chest—the empty pit he once thought was an incorrigible fixture to his heart. But slowly, Ryan-shaped things were being poured in and the wound was patching over. Every flash of dimples and laugh, whether at him or with him, was a salve to this nothingness of being different.
Naim learned that he was okay with different, if it meant being different with Ryan.
When they were almost knitted together, like one tie of the same knot—the anchor and the ship that was docked at home—it was impossible to think the feeling was wrong; Ryan's face pressed against his cheek, murmuring words or just reassurance as Naim's noises got louder, until even the mill was not adequate to contain them—it was, Ryan was a fucking liar—and Ryan would have to steal them away for himself with kisses.
Naim loved it. Every second of it, but especially after, the blissful nothingness where he was floating and Ryan was, too. That indolent smile on his face as Naim nuzzled against him, and how Ryan's eyes would remain half-lidded even after Naim started to squirm from the uncomfortable sensation of the cum that Ryan had not been able to catch and was dripping down his shaft.
Then came the issue, which occurred time and time again.
Naim would reach out for Ryan's pants only for Ryan to shift away. Just his lower half so that fleshy part of his nose that Naim loved to nip at was still flattened up against his cheek. Naim would frown slightly, fingers straining for purchase on the denim of Ryan's jeans but to no avail.
It would take all of two seconds for Ryan to lift onto his forearm and stare down at Naim, the kind of blissed-out expression on his face that always had Naim both unable to look away and too flustered to stare. Thankfully, he was never made to decide between the two because Ryan would dip his head down to kiss him.
Naim's hand would hover into the air for a little while longer before yielding and dropping to the floor or bed. In some cases, he would lift it to touch Ryan somewhere else—shirt, face, neck, anywhere that was permitted.
Ryan had always been good at that. Skirting around an issue or a conversation by distracting Naim.
And God, was Ryan distracting.
Naim faltered in the hallways at school when he saw those blonde ringlets, fingers twitching with the need to feel them underhand—to run his fingers through, grab at them and pull until Ryan detached from his neck with a complaint.
The silver rings on his big hands that Naim knew seared skin with their coldness, at war with the intense warmth of Ryan's palm.
His shirt with a few buttons undone that he would get him a lecture from their strict English teacher but none of the others.
It did not matter if Ryan was never outwardly calling for Naim's attention, he earned it just by being within view.
Naim prided himself on being covert, but when Ryan tackled him at the mill and kissed him for the first time, he had to consider that maybe even when those appreciative looks were once so subtle, Ryan had still managed to catch wind of them.
The art of subtlety was dead in a ditch now.
When they had class together, Naim would chew on his pen lid—or his cheek if he had already mutilated the plastic enough that it had been thrown into the bin—and think of Ryan's expression easing for him, how his shoulders relaxed in Naim's grip, and every which way that Naim had fought to learn those softer sides of Ryan Whelan.
Ryan did not outright ignore him at school but he was not exactly friendly either. Minus those lingering looks that Naim would sometimes catch the rear end of, like a poker stoking coals in his stomach. Sometimes there was a brush of fingers dancing over his wrist or a glance between him and the bathroom, which Naim inevitably followed just to end up pressed against the stall door, breathless and whining while the bell rang for class.
Ryan would mutter near his ear when they finally broke apart, knowing they had to leave or risk being searched for. It was always some complaint about school and classes as if it greatly inconvenienced him not to be allowed the liberty of kissing Naim at all moments.
Things like that reassured Naim that this issue was not because Ryan only saw him as a hook-up or was disgusted by him in some way. Because if that was the case, Ryan would have to be more of a bundle of raging lust and hormones than a person.
And Naim knew that Ryan liked when they got different colours of slushies so that their tongues were stained with blue and red and he could say some stupid flirtatious line about creating purple before his tongue was eager inside Naim's mouth.
But he also knew that Ryan liked a thicker pillow that you sank into over ones that were—as he put it—'just filled with a bunch of fucking bullshit and nothing else'.
Which is why he hated Naim's pillow, and why Naim had started hating it himself. He got a new one a while later and did not tell Ryan so he could see his reaction when he flopped down on the bed.
Lucky enough to witness the initial surprise that knocked Ryan's irked expression off-kilter, how his head whipped to look at Naim, and a second later, his hands were at Naim's waist so that he could drag him over and dig a knuckle into his side while Naim squirmed to free himself, laughing at the feeling of Ryan's smile embossed into his cheek.
Called him a cheeky cunt, too, before kissing all the air from his lungs as he manoeuvred Naim to lay atop him.
He knew Ryan was much softer and more vulnerable than the boy who walked the hallways at school, the same boy who tentatively asked if there was nothing he liked in the town he called home.
So Naim wanted to think it was not anything that would shatter that image of Ryan he cradled like a glass jar in his hands.
While he got used to the feeling of his full and heavy pillow at night, Naim would dedicate most of his thoughts to Ryan. All, if he was honest.
Somehow the blonde boy had completely hypnotised him. That was how Naim felt about it, for lack of a better word.
Otherwise he would not be so worked up over the fact it had been nearly two months and he still had not so much as grazed a hand beneath Ryan's waistband.
How absurd was that?
Every time it would be Ryan with a hand around his cock, making him whine and writhe and claw at skin or hair or clothes, rendering him into that needy mess and nothing more. Just to deftly avoid any attempt Naim made to return the favour.
Naim did not think their relationship was transactional, but he would very much like to have the chance to learn just what made Ryan respond, what his voice sounded like when it rumbled with a groan, and everything of what arousal looked like when it was allowed to show in Ryan's expression.
Maybe it was because he saw Ryan at church every Sunday, and because he remembered the bruises on his chest from the rocks Hunter once threw, but Naim believed that if he waited long enough, Ryan would eventually come around to a kind of intimacy that was not embroiled in shame, violence, and punishment.
Naim wanted to take such good care of him.
He wanted to buy the thicker pillow so Ryan did not have to put up with the discomfort of a 'bunch of fucking bullshit' when they were cuddling on Naim's bed during the nights when his mother had a late shift (though he did love to listen to Ryan groan as he rolled out the crick in his neck and blamed Naim for it).
Naim wanted to make Ryan feel good.
He told himself that patience was a virtue, and his mother had always preached that he should be more virtuous. If it meant Ryan would open up eventually, Naim would drown in virtues.
At least he had thought so.
But he felt weirdly pent up. Despite being the only one to actually cum, he felt as if he had not had any gratification in forever.
Not to say Ryan was bad. That was the furthest thing from the truth. Ryan knew exactly how to make him feel good, how to drag it out until Naim could not even keep his eyes open and was unable to tamp down his breathless moans.
He would be rendered slack and limbless and Ryan would still be all over him. They were much like two pieces of sticky candy, melted together under the pressure of the summer's heat. Ryan's big body always found its way into Naim's space, vying for his attention the second that they were alone.
He was always like that. As if they had to be connected in some way. Even when Naim pushed him off halfheartedly, Ryan would just put a little more strength behind his effort to keep them close. He was a magnet; the South to Naim's North.
Which played a large part as to why Naim was at his wit's end.
How could he not be when Ryan was always nuzzling against him insistently like a big dog with that dimpled smile and his teeth dug into his bottom lip?
Naim was not virtuous. Far from it. He just wanted to suck Ryan's dick.
That was exactly what he had been thinking about, pen lid between his teeth, when his phone buzzed.
Ryan
parents r gone for the night
come over?
if ur mums home early just sneak out after shes gone to bed yeah?
i can come get u
knowing u youll crap ur pants over it being dark out
ooooo spooky
The smile on Naim's face was wiped away in an instant when he read the last two messages.
Ryan had a tendency to cause such a reaction.
He poked and poked until he ruffled Naim too much just to act surprised by it.
Playful and tender. Two words Naim would use to describe Ryan in a heartbeat.
fuck off
Ryan
struck a nerve?
ur still coming over tho right
naim
maybe
Ryan
wtf do u mean maybe
still deciding after that comment abt the dark
Ryan
ur such a fucking baby sometimes
think u just wanna call me baby but ok
Ryan
will that make u come over?
maybe
Ryan
is that all u fucking know how to say
whos the baby now?
Ryan
dickhead
asshole
Ryan
yeah yeah
just come over
and ill make u cum ;)
corny
but okay
Ryan
see how easy that was
u would benefit from not trying to have the last word every fucking time i stg
Ryan
im hearing a lot of complaining but not a lot of im excited to see u tn
u ever got anything good to say or are u always in a fucking mood
have u ever experienced blunt force trauma
i think u need some
Ryan
keep going im close
im leaving bye
Naim threw together a few of his things into a bag and hurried out of the house. His mother had a late shift and always collapsed immediately after coming home those days, so the problem of her realising he was not in bed that night was already sorted.
What he did not think about was that he never explicitly disclosed that vital piece of information to Ryan.
Well, unless you counted his non-committal, 'I'm leaving.'
He rounded the side of Ryan's house a short while later, thinking nothing of his decision to head right over until he heard the first noise.
At first it was so faint that he thought it was the clothes line creaking in the wind. But it came again, louder as he closed in on Ryan's bedroom.
Then it was not just a groan or breathless noise but a word.
A name.
His.
"Naim…"
Thinking himself caught sneaking in, Naim froze up, tense like the police had discovered him mid-robbery.
Another groan, throaty like it had been stowed away deep within Ryan's chest.
Breath hitching, Naim tiptoed closer to the window that led into Ryan's room. One he had pushed open and climbed through as Ryan hushed him more times than he could count.
Not that often, actually. He just could not think clearly right now, if that sound he had been hearing was truly what he thought it could be.
"Fuck, Naim—"
Thankfully the grass was cushioning the sound of Naim's approach, so he got to witness, in all his glory, Ryan stretched out on his bed, the crease of his elbow thrown over his eyes as his other hand moved up and down his cock.
Naim's eyes bulged out of his head and it was with sheer willpower that he stifled any yelp or gasp that threatened to come out of his slack mouth.
Ryan bit his bottom lip, a sound best described as a whine coming from him.
His hips lifted off the bed slightly so he could fuck into his fist, chasing a weight that was absent from his bed.
He gritted out another strained rendition of Naim's name before he was cumming, spilling all over his hand as he kept fucking uselessly into his tight grasp.
Naim's hand flexed involuntarily with the need to wrap around that girth. He did not know that Ryan could make sounds like that. It was a travesty that he has gone so long without being privy to that information.
Ryan did not budge the arm over his eyes as he caught his breath.
Naim felt stuck on the spot, like spindly roots had dug into his feet and immobilised him.
He watched the jerky rise and falls of Ryan's chest, wanting to lay his palm over it until they breathed in harmony.
"Calling him baby."
Ryan spoke so abruptly that Naim startled, thankfully not producing any sound to alert Ryan to his presence.
Mouth stretching into a smile, Ryan bit his bottom lip, a divot indenting in his cheek.
"Fuck. He's fucking lost it."
Naim's face was a wildfire. Like the scorching sun had caught on glass and set one leaf alight. It took seconds for his skin to go up in flames like the dried bark of a forest.
His converse scuffed on the grass as he took a step back, ducking his head down in case Ryan's arm shifted and revealed that he was there.
It took him a few seconds to recollect himself, but once he had, Naim crept away from the window, dodging the clothes line so that he could sprint out the driveway, retrieve his bike, and ride away from the house.
Somehow he only fell off of his bike once during his frantic ride home, scratching the heel of his palm as it collided with the pavement. When he scrambled up from the ground, he was out of breath and with a slight strain in his trousers. The image of Ryan's loose body was seared into his mind, flashing every time that he blinked.
After a second, he righted his bike from where it had fallen and threw his leg over, already pushing off of his other foot and continuing on the route home.
Although it had been all of twenty minutes since he left his house, he came back changed.
Sure, he had imagined the kind of expressions that Ryan could pull, how he would react, his size, and all the more, but it was completely different to witness it for himself. And from the outside looking in, not as a participant.
The perversion coiled in his stomach, both self-castigating and curious. How would Ryan had reacted if Naim chose to knock against the window with just a knuckle to make his presence known?
Something bubbled up in his chest and made it hard to breathe. Naim started pushing at his thorax, hoping to alleviate the feeling.
Meanwhile, his spare hand fumbled with the pocket of his zip-up for his phone.
This time, he would alert Ryan that he was planning on heading over now.
Well, maybe after he sorted out his own problem.
mum has a late shift so i can come now
if ur parents r already gone
Ryan
yeah they r so come now
And Naim did.
The fly screen rattled with each contact of Naim's knuckles, despite how gently he was knocking.
A few seconds passed before the door opened and Ryan appeared. His eyes flicked down, just a brief once-over, but on their rise they took their sweet time scanning every inch of Naim's figure.
Naim flushed, wrapping a hand around the handle of the fly screen and giving it a rattle.
Ryan huffed with amusement. "Alright, alright. Always in such a fucking rush."
Rolling his eyes, Naim waited for Ryan to flip the latch before pulling the door open and slipping inside. Ryan did not move back much which meant Naim's shoulders brushed his chest. After a sweeping glance out at the back garden, Ryan pressed a hand to Naim's back, nose brushing the side of his face. "Hey."
It was spoken low and raspy, close to his ear.
Naim's breath jumped from his lungs, acutely aware that the hand against his back was the same one that Ryan had been using to—
He forced a hum from his mouth, a soft greeting in return to Ryan's. Leaning back, he fell into their shared gravity. North and South.
The door clicked closed behind them and Ryan gave one of those smiles where he flashed his teeth and bit his bottom lip.
His head tilted as he journeyed down to Naim's neck, licking a stripe over his jaw before kissing lower.
Naim had been in Ryan's house enough times that he did not need to obsessively examine the peeling wallpaper and framed pictures to scrounge together details about his life. He knew the path to Ryan's room, which floorboards would creak as he treaded it underfoot, and the corner of the kitchen cupboard where all of his snacks were dumped far from his parent's neatly organised ingredients. He knew the partition in his desk drawer where Ryan stashed his weed if there was ever a time that he had to wait to smoke it. Often when he wanted to share a joint with Naim.
It was that partition that had him hunched over now, tapping around to find what he had shoved there earlier in the week. At least he said as much to Naim in one of their bathroom meet-ups.
After hesitating at the door for a few moments, Naim took the short steps that would bring him to Ryan's bed and perched on the edge of his mattress. Right on the corner.
He gave the sheets a quick glance before turning back to Ryan, who was grunting as he strained for the hidden compartment.
Naim's hands fidgeted in his lap, picking lint off his jeans and smoothing the fabric down. Unsure what to do or how to act because staying still seemed so unnatural in that moment.
Ryan exclaimed as he finally found what he needed, extracting his arm from under his desk and straightening out.
He turned around with the baggie pinched between fingers. The second that his eyes landed on Naim's awkward position, his lips quirked up.
"The fuck are you doin'?"
Naim lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
Ryan's brows furrowed, face forming an expression both amused and perplexed. It made Naim squirm.
Ryan stood and stepped up to his bed frame, towering over Naim. He gave his shoulder a light shove and Naim fell back, arms bracing behind him as his eyes flitted over Ryan's face and body.
When he swallowed it was loud enough for Ryan to hear.
Ryan's brow raised in response.
"Why are you acting so fuckin' weird?"
Try as he might, Naim was unable to find any combination of words that would convey his thoughts. At least without sounding like a creep.
Instead, he settled for, "Are we smoking at the mill or here?"
Ryan studied him for a few seconds before nodding his head to the bed. "Here."
"Won't it smell?"
Rifling through his drawer for a grinder and rolling papers, Ryan shrugged. "We'll just air the room out and spray somethin'. I can't be fucked goin' up that hill today."
"Okay," agreed Naim, shuffling up the bed and getting comfortable.
In the silence of the late afternoon, he idly watched the muscles in Ryan's shoulders go taut as he ground up the bud.
Usually they smoked at the mill and Ryan had already rolled a joint for them to share before Naim showed up. It was the first time they were smoking in his room for sure.
Lately, and maybe it was Naim's hopeful imagination, but Ryan seemed to be testing the boundaries he had long ago resigned to adhering to. The shape of the cross that hung in his hallway dictated his choices less and less. A month ago, Naim would never consider that they could do this—smoking in his bedroom.
It was probably optimistic; Naim just wanted to believe that his hand clasped around Ryan's was secure enough for Ryan to feel certain in something. That he did not have to lose everything and everyone to be who he truly was. Naim would still be there.
Perhaps it was that courage that led Ryan to jerking off with the window half open.
The thought shattered Naim's focus and he jolted on the bed.
Ryan's eyes flicked up to him, tongue paused where it was running along the paper. He finished the job and sealed it before grabbing a lighter from the side with an amused curl to his lips. "What's with you today?"
His knee landed on the edge of the mattress, his fist closed around the lighter as he advanced up the bed towards Naim, who had got comfortable against Ryan's firm pillow and propped up the other one behind his head.
Ryan twisted and slumped down, so close that their arms were pressed together. His thumb rolled against the lighter and the spark caught, paper crinkling at the end as the joint started to burn.
As always, Ryan got the first few inhales before he handed it off to Naim.
Naim shifted atop the mattress, drawing the charred taste to the back of his throat and holding it there as he watched Ryan lean towards the window and push it further open. After a second, Naim followed suit, planting one hand on the other side of Ryan so that he could breathe the smoke directly out of the window.
After a second, his eyes lifted to the slight smirk on Ryan's face and he returned it with one of his own. Ryan gave his shoulders another shove so that he returned to his position against the pillows, smirk growing as he retrieved the joint from between Naim's fingers.
After inhaling, he turned to Naim and breathed it into his face.
The biting smoke brought tears to Naim's eyes and he blinked to clear them, a groove appearing between his brows.
Ryan's smirk transformed into a grin and he pushed the mouth-end of the joint between Naim's lips, leaving it hanging loose for him to take.
With a grunt, Ryan shuffled off his bed and started searching around for his phone, swearing that he left it nearby.
Naim watched him for a while before turning his gaze to the windows, imagining what he looked like when watching Ryan cum. A rosy blush bloomed on his face, an itchy feeling digging beneath his skin.
As he took another drag, he glided his hand over the doona on Ryan's bed, which he had been laying atop just earlier. He knew Ryan's smell well—though the pungent cannabis was making it hard to distinguish it from anything—but he wondered how it would morph when thickened by lust and desire. An indecency that tickled the nose.
Naim thought he might be a pervert, how he wanted to shove his face into the fabric and inhale it into his lungs like he was with the cannabis.
"What're you looking at?"
A sudden weight on Naim's legs drew his attention to where Ryan had flopped down, legs strewn over Naim's as he lay flat against the mattress.
Without a word, Naim offered the joint and Ryan took it from him with a flash of teeth.
Bracing his hand against the bed beside him, Naim replied, "Nothing. Just wonderin' about the smell."
Ryan gave his side a light smack. "You're always worrying about somethin'. Stop it."
Sighing, Naim sunk back into the pillows, hand stretching out to stroke over Ryan's curly hair. Ryan smiled, and with the joint between his teeth, it did absurd things to Naim's stomach.
The weightlessness from the weed was already sending him afloat, easing up the muscles in his body and face. He did not realise he was laughing, slightly breathless, until Ryan's smile grew in response.
He tried to control his expression but he was drifting in the smoke, among the distinct earthy aroma that was permeating the room.
Only Ryan's legs over his were keeping him anchored to the bed.
"Did you find your phone?" he asked, head falling to the pillow behind him with a lazy grin.
Ryan leaned onto his side so he could fish it out of his back pocket.
"What'd'ya wanna listen to?"
He started thumbing through his phone, but after a while with no response, he tipped his head to look at Naim.
The dazed smile had settled happily on Naim's face, beyond content with just watching Ryan exist to think with much clarity.
Ryan snorted, getting up onto his forearm just to say, "You gonna answer me or what?"
Naim slowly nodded, but with his head resting against the pillows it just looked as if he were snuggling into them.
With a shake of his head, Ryan chuckled to himself before clicking on a song and chucking his phone down on the mattress. He shifted his legs off of Naim's before patting the space to his side. "Lay down."
Naim hummed and obliged the demand, slumping down at a snail's pace and rolling onto his front, chin digging into Ryan's shoulder.
Ryan looked at him, a soft smile on his face that Naim always thought was too vulnerable for him to be allowed to see. Although greed coiled around his heart like the snake on his finger, Naim wanted to shield that vulnerability from everyone, even himself. What if one day he ended up hurting Ryan and that smile was hidden away forever?
Since the cross shadowed his doorstep, Naim learned just how much of himself had to fit within that thin shadow so that it was concealed from the world. All his imperfections. His sin of being.
His mother had come here to find faith and community, one with a fresh coat of paint so she could ignore the cracks and rot embedded within it.
Naim had found his faith and community here, too. Just not at the Church, as his mother did. His was blonde ringlets and gentle hands, and it was the most Naim had ever believed in anything his whole life.
He had seen it in his mother, that fear of losing faith once you had found it. He never understood until Ryan, how scared he became of losing him.
He reckoned with it again and again, feet following the same paths until his overthinking had created crop circles in his mind.
Ryan liked to poke fun at him for being scared of everything, and lately, Naim was inclined to agree without much of a fight. Though, he would never admit that most of those worries were Ryan-shaped, just as his heart was.
When he was high—and Naim only ever got high with Ryan—the thoughts subsided, slipping from his skin like water. He was weightless, airborne, and nothing could keep him shackled.
Even as the thoughts whizzed by, his mind was too slow to grasp at any of them.
So he stared at the contours of Ryan's smile, memorising it as best he could before letting out an amused huff and wriggling forward so that he could meet Ryan's kiss halfway.
A hand skimmed his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. Smoke was exchanged between their mouths, and Naim greedily chased it, cupping the back of Ryan's neck to keep him close.
The hand at his jaw grazed down his shoulders and over his waist, finally taking up residence on his thigh. Naim bent his knee, resting it over Ryan's legs so that he could stick even closer to him.
When they broke apart, Ryan put the joint between Naim's lips, stroking his thigh as Naim inhaled and exhaled directly into his face.
"Feels like I haven't seen you in forever," murmured Ryan, nuzzling into the crook of Naim's neck.
"I saw you at school," Naim responded.
"Nah… That doesn't count."
The words were practically breathed into Naim's vocal chords for him to speak himself. Ryan attended to his neck with fleeting kisses, placing them everywhere that he could.
"Doesn't count 'cause of what?"
"I don't getta touch you for one. And you're always pretending to be a good student."
Naim sighed, baring more of his neck for Ryan to claim. "I'm looking at you most of class."
A groan rumbled against his throat, so close that he almost thought it was his own.
"Don't say that."
"I am, though," Naim doubled down. "You're just pretending to be a good student."
He spoke with a slight mocking tone, just to make it obvious that he was imitating Ryan.
Ryan ran his tongue over his adam's apple, smile thinning his lips. "As if."
Naim let out another breathy laugh, covering his eyes with a hand.
There was a split-second of silence before Ryan spoke again, voice hardened in a way it never was around Naim.
"Hey. What's this?"
There was no time for Naim to deduce what he was talking about, because his wrist was seized and yanked away from his eyes.
Pinpricks of the pain he had forgotten about reared its ugly head at the brush of Ryan's thumb.
Ryan looked from the grazed palm to Naim's face. In the shadows, the colour of his eyes seemed more of a bruise dyed blue than their usual icy shade.
Naim would never forget the look of those bruises that once dappled Ryan's entire chest. He still wished he had the courage back then to kiss them until they healed, but it was enough for them to not be replaced by a new set from the routine of punishment.
Their minds must have both gone to the same person, but for two different reasons.
Ryan straightened out, concern bleeding into the cracked lines of his face. "Did Hunter—"
"Nah, he's not," Naim interrupted before Ryan could complete his question. Then, quieter with humiliation, "I fell off my bike earlier."
Ryan blinked. Glanced between the wound and Naim's embarrassed expression.
"You're such a fuckin' idiot. Had me all worried for what? 'cause you can't ride your fuckin' bike? Dickhead."
Naim conceded a small smile, blinking lethargic like a cat would. "You were worried?"
"Did I say that?" Ryan retorted before kissing him.
Naim's hands found home at the nape of Ryan's neck, sinking into the field of blonde curls, the ring around his finger catching on a lock or two. He played with a ringlet as he let Ryan's tongue sweep into his mouth, tasting the acrid and earthy residue of the weed.
Ryan was half pressed against him by now, the lack of space so natural that Naim only noticed it when the weight started to bear down on him.
Retreating by a few centimetres, Ryan took another drag of the joint—which Naim had already forgotten about entirely—and inhaled before bringing their lips back together.
He breathed it out into Naim's mouth, who inhaled it in turn.
Ryan hung a smile upon his lips as if it were a present just for him that the smoke which circled his lungs had been accepted by Naim. His hand moulded to Naim's waist, stroking the skin and waiting for him to breathe out the smoke before taking another hit.
Eventually, he got too distracted with kissing and neglected the joint entirely, until some of the ash broke off onto Naim's shoulder, making him jolt with a hiss.
"Fuck. Sorry."
Ryan leaned over him to tap the ash out on his bedside table before putting out the joint altogether. He left it against the makeshift ashtray there so that he could dust off the ash from Naim's shoulder and administer some light kisses to the spot.
It barely burned. Really it was the shock that made Naim jump more than anything. But he did not voice that.
Ryan's hand sneaked lower as he tended to the wound with his tongue now, swirling around as if he wanted to replace the burn with a hickey.
When he palmed Naim's erection through his jeans, he murmured, "Lemme make you feel better."
Naim let out a disbelieving huff. There was no correlation between getting burned by some ash and needing a hand-job, yet somehow Ryan Whelan was able to conjure one out of thin air.
He paved the route to Naim's mouth with kisses, both lazy and slow in how they let their lips mould together, tongues teasing to see who would deepen the kiss first.
When Ryan's hand circled his cock, Naim bit his lip, already inundated with a buzzing pleasure.
A hot tongue ran over his closed mouth, wanting to be granted entry.
The gasp that Ryan persuaded from between Naim's lips when he stroked his cock a little rough gave him what he desired. Once his lips were prised open, Naim welcomed Ryan's tongue in, ignoring the amused breath Ryan released.
The kiss did not last long. Soon enough, Ryan was grinning against Naim's cheek, hand moving leisurely.
He glanced down between them at where Naim's cock was twitching, especially prone to the cold sensation of Ryan's rings. He never took them off and Naim was always biting back gasps at the cold.
"You're more sensitive than normal. Did you already touch yourself?"
Naim shuddered, which was as much an admission as a plain yes would be.
Ryan let out an exhale, overwrought. "Fuck, that's so hot. Did coming here turn you on that much? You had to rub one out before heading over? Was it something I said?"
Naim whined as Ryan's hand started to catch up to the pace at which he was speaking.
It was ironic—unfair—that Ryan had been the one touching himself before Naim's arrival, yet Naim was being made out as the original offender. He only had to deal with an erection after hearing Ryan moan out his name. Ryan, however, had been jerking off without any such motivation.
Naim bit the inside of his lip to avoid pointing that important detail out.
Only seconds later, his head tipped back as a moan forced his teeth to unlatch.
Ryan's eyes widened with a laugh and he chased Naim to couple their lips, his chuckles making poor work of the kiss.
"I've got neighbours, Naim."
The tenderness with which Ryan said his name almost made Naim's eyes cross. He tapped a hand against Ryan's cheek, breathless and panting as he nosed into the side of his face.
Ryan let him with a grin plastered across his mouth, the poster boy of a glowing sunlit afternoon.
His hand quickened and Naim could feel his abdomen drawing taut with an impending orgasm. It had taken no time at all to reach that point because of his increased sensitivity. Embarrassing as it was, he was completely at Ryan's mercy.
It took a few more breathless moans and Ryan murmuring something dirty in his ear for Naim to cum. When he did, Ryan collapsed onto his back at his side, out of breath. To an outsider, it would look as if they had both just gotten off.
The reminder had Naim peeking out the window, just to check that nobody was pulling the same stunt he had earlier. Of course, there was nothing but a fence with a pallid colour. He was more surprised by the fact the window was closed. At what point Ryan had managed to seal them into their own bubble was completely unknown to him.
The softness of skin against his face made Naim exhale, chest deflating as Ryan splayed his hand over it before cupping his jaw.
Lethargy weighed down his body, eyelids refusing to budge from being closed as he sunk further into the mattress. Between the daze of being high and the bliss from Ryan's hand, Naim was barely present.
Ryan licked the side of his face and it scrunched up in response, earning a laugh from Ryan and another run of his tongue but with more pressure this time.
Naim smacked him away with the back of his hand and a grumble, wiping the saliva that had been left behind on his cheek. As always, Ryan spent all of a second allowing the distance between them for Naim to clean his face before he was entering his space again, teeth latching onto his cheek and pulling.
Naim let out a weak exclamation, fingers pushing at Ryan's chest until he released his cheek and fell back.
Without thinking much, Naim threw a leg over Ryan's body and surged off the bed, bracing himself with clenched fists at Ryan's torso.
Eyelids shuttering, he stared down at Ryan, who was wearing a smirk adorned with surprise.
"Think this is gonna give you some advantage over me?" Ryan provoked, his raised brow as dismissive as his tone was.
Naim did not answer.
Instead, he raked his gaze down Ryan's body, taking his sweet time as he drank in how the fabric of Ryan's loose tank top was now outlining the muscles of his abdomen. When his eyes skimmed over the belt of Ryan's jeans, Naim gulped, hands unfurling.
Earlier, if he had made himself known to Ryan, would they have ended up like this? Could he have climbed through the window as he always did and straddled Ryan, helping him to finish?
The thought was like a small pulse of electricity in his mind, waking him up from his languor.
His tongue darted over his bottom lip, picking up the taste of Ryan along the slightly dry skin. It always clung to him, and Naim hated that he could not carry those reminders everywhere with him so that he was never completely alone.
The buzz circuited his body, and his fingers twitched to life, creeping closer to where his eyes had paused moments before.
Slowly, he dragged his hands down to Ryan's belt buckle, the metal clinking as he undid it.
He gave his lips another lick before nibbling the interior of his bottom lip. Unwittingly, his legs squeezed either side of Ryan's thighs as the nerves broke through the haze of his high.
Just as he had got the belt and the button undone, both of his wrists were seized between Ryan's fingers, yanked back up to the safety of his torso.
Naim looked up, a frown already deepening on his mouth.
A look of surprise was evident on Ryan's face as if it was unthinkable that Naim would end up here, doing this. When he took a breath, Ryan's chest shook and he released the air as an amused noise.
"Thought you just got all giggly and talkative when you're high. What's this?" He gave Naim's wrists another tug, bringing his body forward, stooped over.
Ryan's eyes darted all over Naim's face, tongue skimming his lips as he studied him.
With a slow blink, Naim wrestled against Ryan's grip to no avail. It only served to boost Ryan's ego and mood, grinning as he kept Naim trapped in his hold. All effortless boyish charm in his dimpled smile. At that moment, it did nothing but infuriate Naim.
"Real effective, Naim," taunted Ryan. "Keep it up and you might have a fighting chance in twenty years or somethin'."
"Fuck you," Naim seethed as he resigned to hitting Ryan's chest with his bound hands, which only made Ryan laugh. "Why won't you let me touch you?"
The question escaped so abruptly that it took even him by surprise. He spoke it as if it were the natural successor to his irritation, though it was anything but.
Ryan's expression froze before slowly fading from his face entirely. The hand holding Naim's loosened of its own accord.
"Huh?"
"You always do this," Naim said, his expression pulling up into something firmer with his choice to double down.
After a beat, he gestured with his hands to Ryan's crotch and the unbuckled belt, the black of his boxers visible through the gap that had been created.
It felt like a test of temptation, the kind of mental turmoil they would expect you to rise above in Church. The reminder of the sermon from last Sunday about indecency only soured Naim's mood further.
"Whenever I try and touch you, you just…" He let out a sigh, shrugging with one side of his shoulder. "I dunno. Dodge it. I don't get why."
Ryan pressed his lips together, eyes squinting before he glanced to the window. "You don't needa."
Naim chewed the inside of his cheek. Again, his mouth was moving before it was given explicit permission to. "Because you do it yourself?"
Ryan's head whipped back to look at him, disbelief bleeding across his face.
Naim gave another shrug that seemed so disinterested while a jitter had begun in his hands. He could not believe himself. "Earlier, I should've told you I was coming, but I forgot. Saw you then."
A faint blush bloomed under Ryan's skin and he scrubbed his face with his hand. The other was still off to the side, cupping what he had caught of Naim's load. He always spent too long idling afterwards to remember to clean it up. One time he had wiped it on his jeans, forgetting that it did not have the same properties as water did.
Naim reached for the bedside table and tugged a few tissues from the box, dispensing them into Ryan's hand with a pointed look.
"Mate, you could've said somethin' instead of perving outside," grumbled Ryan as he wiped up the cum and let the dirtied tissues fall to his floor.
"Sorry. Couldn't find an opportunity with you moaning my name and all." Naim's tone was light, but lined with the residue of desire that he had felt in that moment and had been at the whim of since.
Ryan levelled him with a glare at that. "No needa say it like that."
"Say it like what?" Naim's shoulders lifted and dropped. "Like the truth?"
Ryan gave him a push—a warning.
"I'm just sayin'," Naim defended with a breathy laugh. "I thought maybe it was to do with… y'know…" He gestured vaguely in the air and Ryan looked at him as if he were proposing they run away to join a travelling circus. Naim dropped his hand, gaze shifting away from Ryan's. His next words were on the quieter side, more private. "Like the Church and everything. Like with Hunter."
A short silence elapsed. Only after a few seconds did Naim have the courage to face Ryan again.
Ryan's expression revealed nothing, mostly blank minus the unassuming crease between his brows.
"Nah," he said with a shake of his head. "It's nothing like that. I'd tell you if it was."
"Right," Naim agreed. "So why?"
"I just…" Ryan looked away again before letting out a groan as he ran a hand over his hair, making a mess of the perfect curls. "I just don't care, Naim. Like, I don't feel like I need you to do that."
Naim blinked, tilting his head to the side a little.
For a moment, Ryan looked almost pained. "Are you seriously gonna make me fucking spell it out for you?"
Guilt wormed its way into Naim's stomach and he wished he could have taken back the question, never to be spoken aloud. He hated anything that felt like conflict between them, other than the usual play-fighting and roughness that was remedied with kisses. It was hard enough to know everyone else was against them, but to not have each other was unbearable.
"Sorry," he mumbled, hanging his head.
A short pause ensued.
Naim heard the inhale Ryan took before speaking and he steeled himself, eyes too wary to look up and study whatever expression was exposed on Ryan's face.
"Making you feel good makes me feel good," Ryan blurted out. "I don't need you to jerk me off or whatever 'cause I already feel like I've… Fuck, I'm not sayin' more than that. Go fuck yourself."
Naim's mouth was agape. He probably looked stupid, like a blubbering fish in a tank. The kind everyone considered with pity at the store but never bought.
He was saved from being judged for his dumb reaction because there was a hand now covering Ryan's eyes, as if he could not bear to witness how the information registered with Naim.
Naim's mind supplied all the instances that he had been mulling over for weeks, how Ryan would be all melted into him after a hand-job, grinning like a fool, always licking and kissing Naim's face and neck. How he would ask Naim if he could jerk him off one more time, not the other way around.
That blissed-out expression on his face that Naim adored, cheeks aglow as he nuzzled against him, mumbling sweet promises as if he had been the one to experience all the pleasure between them.
"Oh."
That was all Naim could manage to get out. More akin to a squeak than anything.
His complete lack of tact had Ryan groaning and he attempted to roll onto his side as if he forgot that Naim was atop him.
Naim's arms shot out and pinned Ryan to the bed by his shoulders, an uncontrollable giggle escaping him as he did so.
Ryan dropped his hands with a scowl. "Are you fucking laughin' at me?"
"No," Naim said as he chuckled. "Not at you. It's just…" He rubbed his eye as if he could push his mirth back beneath his skin. "I've been panicking over nothin'."
Ryan grabbed his shoulders, fighting against Naim's hold on him. "Alright, cunt, you can go—"
"No, seriously," Naim said, struggling to keep Ryan down. "It's fine, I'm not laughing at—"
His sentence was cut short when Ryan grabbed his waist instead and spun them, Naim's back hitting the mattress and robbing him of the air he needed to speak.
Eyes shot wide, he clutched at Ryan's shoulders, scanning the face now inches from his own, finding a groove between brows and one side of Ryan's mouth tugged downwards.
"Seriously, why does it even fuckin' matter? Enough for you to fuckin' creep on me?"
Naim's head rolled to look out the window, a smile on his face. "Wasn't on purpose. Better question: why'd you keep your window open when you're jerkin' off?"
Eyes flaring, Ryan hissed, "You watched me through my fuckin' window?"
Naim let out another laugh, but managed to cover this one with his hand, eyes twinkling as he stared up at Ryan again. "I was planning on sneaking in but it seemed like a bad time."
"Fuckin' hell."
"I…" Biting his lip, Naim deliberately lowered his gaze to Ryan's mouth. Under such rapt attention, Ryan's tongue wet his lips, leaving behind a residue that Naim wanted to lick off for himself. "I liked hearing you. I never get to. You never let me."
"I don't 'never let you'," countered Ryan, earning him a roll of Naim's eyes. "Why're you reacting like that, dickhead?"
"You're the dickhead," Naim huffed. "I just wanna make you feel good, too. You're not the only one who likes that." He pressed his lips together, breaking away from Ryan's stare. "Actin' all selfish."
A sharp inhale followed, and they were so close that Naim could feel Ryan's chest inflate with it.
"Can't I?" he pushed, eyes rounding a little as he fixed Ryan with a pleading look.
It was only subtle, but Naim saw how it made Ryan flinch.
As furtively as he could, he lifted his leg from the mattress until his knee was pressing into Ryan's crotch.
One of Ryan's eyes squeezed shut as a breath was shocked from him.
"Please?" It was nothing more than an exhale, chin tilting up as he eased his fingers into the hair at Ryan's nape.
"Next time, I'm kickin' you out with your pants still down," Ryan muttered before kissing him.
Naim let out a chuckle between their coupled lips, going as far as to giggle when Ryan bit his bottom lip. He probably meant it punitively, but as often happened with those kind of things, Ryan could never commit to making it hurt.
Invigorated by the approval he had been given, Naim's hand was already at Ryan's trousers.
Ryan's amusement seeped into their kiss at the impatience, and Naim nipped him back for it.
Eventually, Ryan had to help him to push down his trousers as he trailed kisses down Naim's jaw to his neck.
Naim angled his head so that he could look between their bodies, endeavouring not to be pulled into the buzz of Ryan's lips at his neck.
It came as little surprise that Ryan was big to the touch.
Naim had felt it through fabric enough times to surmise as much. Before then, he held the assumption that someone who acted with such confidence must have the assets to back it up.
Of course, eventually he was given the opportunity to peel back the layers of Ryan's faux confidence and reveal the vulnerability beneath, which he cared for so tenderly.
Almost on instinct, Naim rubbed the side of his head against Ryan's, much like those two birds they watched in the bush one evening, coddling each other. Ryan's lips detached from his neck with a throaty hum as he returned the caress.
"Tell me if it feels good," Naim whispered, flushing at his own words.
Ryan did not answer, placing slow kisses to Naim's neck instead. The faintest shape of a smile was present on his mouth though, which was an answer enough.
Naim trapped Ryan's cock between his two hands, still loose enough to show his inexperience. He stroked down to the base and up to the head, squeezing at both points.
A groan rumbled against his throat and Naim shivered, knowing that he had persuaded that sound from Ryan with his amateurish touch.
The rush that clouded his mind from that realisation was far more powerful than the influence the weed had on him.
Dizzy, he gave Ryan another loose stroke, breathing a little uneven himself.
"Yeah, you're doin' good," Ryan murmured, licking over the same skin he had just been sucking. Another mark that Naim would have to cover with a plaster and listen to his mother rattle off about insect repellent.
Even a repellent would be unable to keep Ryan away for too long, and Naim would spend forever riding the high of knowing that.
His hands started to find a rhythm as Ryan's kisses grew more feverish.
The amusement from the weed was still prevalent in Naim's system and he would giggle from the ticklish feeling of kisses and licks against his sensitive neck.
It was hard for him to dedicate all his attention to both, and he found himself too easily distracted by those kisses, his hands faltering around Ryan's cock. Ryan did not complain. At best he just started rolling his hips into Naim's awaiting hands, doing the job for the both of them.
The first time, Naim let out a disapproving sound and resumed his stroking.
The second time, he whispered, "Does that feel good?"
Ryan groaned, panting against his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Feels like I'm fucking you. You're so fucking bad at this—" He let out a quiet moan. "I knew you'd be."
Naim took some offence at that. "I've never—"
"I know. Yeah, I know. You're doin' good for me, though."
Ryan's voice was unlike anything Naim knew, a hint desperate and interwoven with a greed and breathlessness that made his stomach flip. Especially when it was spoken so raspily near his ear.
His breath stuttered and he wrapped his hands around each other, tightening his grip before he started pumping up and down the shaft. Squeezing at the spots that Ryan seemed to react to most.
"Naim— Fuuuuuck…"
A shy smile appeared on Naim's face, pleased with himself that he could please Ryan.
His own dick was filling out the front of his boxers again, Ryan's groans enough to get him half-mast. Probably would have ended up with a full, straining erection if Ryan had not noticed it first, letting out a chuckle against Naim's collarbones.
"Stop for a sec," he whispered.
Before the words even registered in Naim's head, his hands were slowing, so accustomed to following Ryan's lead.
"Yeah, good," Ryan continued, finger curling under Naim's boxers and tugging them down. He cupped the underside of Naim's cock, giving it a slack stroke before he tilted his pelvis down so their cocks rubbed against each other.
A gasp escaped Naim, hips stuttering involuntarily.
"You wanna do it or can I?" Ryan asked, eyes flicking up from where they were flush to Naim's gaze.
"You—" Naim cleared his throat so he sounded less reedy. "You can."
Ryan smirked. "Right on."
Lips pulling up into a soft smile, Naim gave him a light push, scoffing. It sounded so gentle and Ryan's head fell to his shoulder, hiding the smile that had ousted his smug stare.
Ryan's big hand took the both of them in his grasp, thumb running over the slit of Naim's cock where precum was beading. Naim squirmed, lips parting with a breathless noise.
At a leisurely pace, Ryan began to move his hand up and down. The weight and heat of his cock was dizzying and Naim felt as if every brush of skin was only making him more sensitive.
He kept one hand at the back of Ryan's hair, tangled in the locks and giving a light scratch when he was particularly feeling it. Unintentional, but it guided Ryan well. Of course he prioritised what Naim liked over his own preferences.
"I- I was meant to be doing this for you," Naim said, completely robbed of his breath so it came out in little gasps.
"Mmn…" Ryan's non-committal response was partnered with him nosing into Naim's jaw. "Start moving your hips, baby."
Naim's eyes became half the size of his face and he stopped breathing for a full second.
"It'll feel good, trust me," Ryan continued, amusement humming in his voice. He might be trying to play it off but he knew exactly what he was doing.
After taking a moment to recollect himself, Naim pinched the back of Ryan's neck before complying.
His hips rocked up from the mattress, tentatively fucking into Ryan's fist. The slide of their cocks and the rough callouses of Ryan's palm sent a heavy thrum of pleasure through him.
It coaxed a moan from his throat and Ryan flashed a grin in answer. "Told you, didn't I? Feels good?"
Naim nodded, fingers digging into Ryan's curls and clutching harder as if it was the only tether he had from floating away in bliss. "You too… Do it as well…"
Ryan's expression wavered before he hung his head with a curse. "Fuck."
Ryan was less hesitant than Naim, hips snapping forward and withdrawing with force. Naim attempted to copy him but struggled to keep up, which rewarded him with a laugh from Ryan. A little grating, but Naim was too high and too pleasured to care.
His moans got harder to stifle, especially with Ryan's ones breathed directly by his ear, the tenor vibrating in his bones when Ryan was kissing his jaw.
It was perhaps his favourite newfound detail that Ryan was quite verbal when he felt good.
Naim knew it would take next to nothing for him to cum again. All the sensations were so novel that he was constantly leaking precum. It just slickened the rub of Ryan's cock and hand, producing filthier sounds than what he was used to.
Somehow, nothing about it felt dirty. It just felt right.
He tried to alert Ryan that he was on the precipice of cumming, but after a particular squeeze, he found himself short of breath and even shorter of time.
He was spilling over Ryan's hand before he could say anything, though not for a lack of effort.
All he managed was one word, which he moaned as his spine curved off the bed, chasing Ryan's touch.
"Ryan—"
The pulse behind his eyes seemed to implode and he got one second of fuzzy bliss before something shattered it in its entirety.
Ryan's head dropped to his shoulder, the weight of him suddenly encompassing. More than that, it was the moan he released.
"Fuck, Naim!"
The way Ryan said his name was so thrilling—borderline intoxicating. Especially because, not a second later, spurts of cum were hitting Naim's naval. Ryan continued to chase the tail-end of his release, in spite of the whimpers escaping Naim's slack mouth at the friction.
When he finally slowed to a stop, the cum on Naim's stomach was oozing, and he kept writhing with discomfort.
Ryan, however, had a smile hung upon his lips like a slow Sunday morning where they no longer had any obligations but to spend a few hours fooling around.
When their mouths met each other halfway, Naim could taste their future in that smile.
A vulnerability so striking he wanted to stay in the moment he had discovered it. It contained all the words they were both still too hesitant to say, because there was nowhere in the town where anybody was allowed privacy—far away enough to be free from the Church's shadow.
Maybe one day.
Ryan kissed the corner of his mouth and Naim returned the softness by nipping at the blushed tip of Ryan's nose.
"What'd you say earlier?" Naim pretended to mull over it as Ryan licked his ear. "Oh, right. See how easy that was?"
Ryan's lazy grin was imprinted in his cheek, painting over the rosy hue there. "Shut up."
Exhaling heavily, Naim sunk into the bed and into Ryan's embrace. There was a prolonged silence filled with just their breaths and the sound of Ryan's lips as he never strayed far from Naim's skin.
Naim stared at the ceiling, tilting into Ryan's touch every so often.
It took a few minutes for him to work up the courage to voice his query.
"You really got off every time just watchin' me?"
Ryan paused where he was leaving a hickey behind Naim's ear.
The half-baked mark would disappear quickly. Naim almost regretted interrupting.
"Not really watchin'," corrected Ryan as he withdrew to meet Naim's inquisitive stare. "I just…" He ruffled his hair, glancing away. "I like seein' you feel good. Knowin' it's 'cause of me."
A pause ensued, one that Naim allowed to stretch on because he felt there was more Ryan wanted to say. Tucked away in the uncertainty of his mouth, how it did not settle, parting just to close again.
Eventually he faced Naim again, this time wearing that foolhardy confidence he used to wield. "Why? It gross you out?"
Naim's nose crinkled, a short laugh bubbling up. "Why would it gross me out? Y'know what is grossin' me out?" He bunched up Ryan's collar in his fist. "The cum on my fuckin' stomach."
Ryan huffed. "Yeah, alright. I'll sort it out."
Once he was released, he got to work grabbing some tissues and wiping up the viscous liquid from where it was pooling. Naim fought to keep his writhing to a minimum as he looked on.
Just as Ryan stood up to dispose of the tissues alongside the ones he had dropped onto the floor earlier, Naim added, "It doesn't gross me out."
He watched as some of the remaining tension in Ryan's back melted away. His relief was so tangible that Naim could feel it himself across the room.
"You're just like a big puppy or somethin'."
Ryan's head snapped back, nonplussed. "I'm fuckin' what?"
Naim pulled himself up a little, unease sprouting in his stomach. "Like a—"
"I dare you to fuckin' say that shit again," Ryan interrupted, crossing his arms.
There was no venom or threat in Ryan's face, but Naim still cowered just a little.
Not enough to dissuade him from provoking Ryan further.
"A big puppy—" he hurriedly said before scrambling for the door.
Arms were looping around his midriff within seconds and he flailed as Ryan chucked him back onto the bed.
"You're such a little shit," he said, pinning him down.
"Am I wrong?" Naim retorted with a defiant tilt of his head.
Instead of answering, Ryan chose to kiss him.
Perhaps that was his answer after all.
They spent too long exchanging kisses and soaking in the tenderness of each other's company and the sky outside was starting to dim when Naim was finally given the opportunity to wash the flaking cum from his stomach.
He voiced his complaints and Ryan rubbed his back with an apology.
After dinner, they ended up curled in Ryan's bed, the bottom of Naim's zip-up and shirt lifted where Ryan was drawing mindless circles at his waist. They had been talking but the conversation faded and Naim was quite content combing his fingers through Ryan's hair in the silence. Outside, the insects were restless, and the constant drivel of buzzing seemed to cloak everything else.
Under the full moon, it was a perfect night for secrets to be whispered while the insects chirped.
"I don't think Mum's ever gonna go back to the city," Naim said.
Ryan propped up onto his elbow, resting his temple against his fist. "Yeah?"
"I'm not her, though," Naim asserted. "I'm leaving the second I fucking graduate."
Even in the dim light, Naim could see Ryan's soft smile falter, only to be replaced by a happy-go-lucky one. It had the illusion of being uncaring and casual. Ryan used to don it a lot at the beginning, but less so in recent times. Naim almost frowned at the sight of it, but in a way, he needed to see it.
Because it meant that Ryan also did not want for them to separate.
Naim shifted in bed so he was on his side, laying on his arm as he started up at Ryan. He wondered how he looked in his eyes at that moment—if what he said was a betrayal and all Ryan could see was someone who would chose to leave him.
"Why do you wanna stay here?" Naim asked.
Ryan let out a scoff, quiet as if it were only for Naim to hear. "Nothing for me out there."
"Y'know I hate this shithole."
"I know you do, Naim."
"But there's things here." A pause. "Things I don't wanna leave."
The light caught in Ryan's eyes. A burning firefly of hope, small but present. Enough for Naim to catch a glimpse of.
"There's an entire city I could show you around," he continued.
It came out uncertain, as if Naim no longer trusted that he would recognise the city he once knew like the back of his hand. Perhaps because meeting Ryan, finding his South, had reconfigured every map in his mind so that they would lead there. If he went back to the city without him, would he start wandering towards the bus shuttles to the very place he hated when he was lost in thought?
"It won't be perfect, but it'll be more than this fucking town can give you."
Ryan's lips peeled apart, but he did not answer the veiled question for a long while. Instead, he just watched Naim.
For the hundredth time that night alone, Naim wished he could see himself through Ryan's eyes.
"Don't think I'd feel right in a city either," Ryan finally spoke into the silence.
Naim's lips curled into a wry smile. "Yeah, probably not. Me too."
Ryan shook his head, teeth appearing as his mouth abandoned his pretence of not caring and allowed a chuckle to pass.
"But at least…" Naim began, falling back onto his back with an oomph. "There won't be an old cunt in your ear every fucking Sunday tellin' you that you'll be going to hell for it."
Ryan barked a laugh. "Tough guy speakin' like that in this house."
Naim bared his teeth in a smile. "Your parents aren't home. The walls don't talk. I'll be fine."
Ryan gave another shake of his head. "There's always someone listenin'."
"Yeah, you." Naim's expression softened slightly. "I hope."
"Nah, yeah, I am," Ryan murmured. "Listenin' and thinkin'."
Interlacing their fingers, Naim said, "Rare."
"Fuck off."
After a second of staring with smiles they could not suppress, they both started laughing. It came as no surprise that Ryan decided to pilfer Naim's amusement directly from his lips with a kiss.
Naim cupped the side of Ryan's face, a smile still on his mouth as he returned the kiss.