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The cold, harsh grip of suffocation grasps at Naim’s throat.
Every night, he is visited by the dreadful manifestation of his own shame. The guilt has continued to wash over him ever since they’ve escaped; it's my fault.
All this is my fault.
He occasionally dreams about it. Dreams about what he himself thinks is the sole reason for their agony.
Ryan has partially forgiven him for it, held him close to his chest countless times, whispering reassurances into his ear softly while faintly dragging his fingertips along Naim’s arm. And sometimes, for even just a fraction of a moment, Naim lets himself feel forgiven, lets himself be held until he falls asleep.
-
The grass sways lazily around them every time the wind picks up, brushing against their arms and ankles, and occasionally tickling the back of Naim's neck whenever a longer stalk bends the wrong way. The sky overhead is beginning to soften into the evening. Ryan has one arm folded beneath his head, Naim is pulling apart a blade of grass between his fingers.
"Psytrance isn't even bad," Naim says for what feels like the fourth time.
Ryan makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough. Naim turns his head as rapidly as possible towards him,
"Ryan," Naim snaps.
"Be serious."
"I am serious!"
Ryan turns his head slightly. "You used to listen to that stuff voluntarily!"
Naim immediately throws the torn pieces of grass at him.
“You’re so defensive about it– hey! Cunt!" Ryan grins.
"I'm not defensive."
"You are."
Ryan pauses. Then, with the confidence of someone who's about to say something incredibly stupid, he begins making electronic noises with his mouth. They aren't good electronic noises. If anything,, they vaguely resemble the sound of a dying microwave.
Naim stares at him in pure disbelief. Naturally, Ryan continues.
"Jesus."
He then finally breaks, laughing before he can finish whatever sound he had been attempting.
"That's what it sounds like,” Ryan quips, tipping down his imaginary hat and bowing.
"Not true."
"It does!"
"It doesn't!"
Ryan shrugs. "Agree to disagree."
Naim giggles despite his eye-roll. A moment of silence passes as they let themselves be enveloped in the cold breeze of the oncoming night. Then Naim nudges Ryan's shoulder lightly with his own.
"Fine. What do you listen to?"
"Hmm.. everything,” he replies.
Naim groans. "That's not an answer."
"It is."
"No, it isn't!"
Ryan opens one eye.
"Fuck you! I think it is."
"You can't say that!"
"And why can’t I?" Ryan giggles. "Enlighten me."
"'Cos that's not how music works!"
Ryan considers his answer, then shrugs. "I listen to it."
"To– what?"
"Music!"
Naim lets out a frustrated noise and drags his hands down his face.
"If I like it, its on the playlist!"
Naim rolls over to make eye contact with him, gives him a dead-pan look in his eyes.
"And how many songs are on this playlist?"
Ryan pretends to think for a moment. "...couple hundred."
"A couple hundred?"
Ryan shrugs and nods, changing positions to face Naim now. He really likes looking at him, as one could pick up on very easily.
Naim looks at him and Ryan looks back.
Sometimes their eye contact is so intense it makes Naim shudder a bit, but nothing could ever pull his gaze away. He’s spent so much time trying to tear his focus away from his true desires, he doesn’t ever want to make that same mistake again. He spends as much time as he can looking at Ryan.
The silence settles between them while the evening continues, the air growing much colder now that the sun has begun its descent toward the horizon.
"You know..." Ryan starts, Naim hums.
For a few seconds he simply watches Naim, then he diverts his gaze back to the sky.
"I was scared." Ryan is still staring upward. His expression has changed a bit, Naim notices. It’s softer, more vulnerable. He doesn’t get like this often, not at all actually, so Naim’s interest is piqued, he’s listening intently.
“Of what?” Naim asks slowly, though he already knows.
Ryan looks up. "Him– it? When.. it showed up."
He swallows, and Naim shifts closer to him.
A faint smile appears at the corner of his mouth, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I remember seeing someone standing in the driveway and being freaked for a sec. Thought somebody was breaking in."
Naim takes a shallow breath; he’s heard Ryan talk about this before. He’s mentioned it only swiftly as a joke, as he does with most things, but Naim had heard the hurt in his voice before.
"But then he got closer. I thought it was you."
Naim's chest tightens immediately.
"Fuck, I really thought it was you," Ryan whispers, more to himself than to Naim.
"He sounded like you. Looked like you. Was– pretty like you."
Naim wants to say something, anything, but–
"He apologised.” Ryan swallows.
"He said he was sorry for..." The sentence trails off.
Naim can hear his own heartbeat; can faintly even feel Ryan’s heartbeat. He knows Ryan isn’t one to talk about shit like this with ease, so he lets him finish talking.
"I believed him."
For some reason, that hurts more than anything else. Naim closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath. The familiar guilt begins crawling its way into his chest. The persistent, heavy, unwanted shame that just keeps clawing its way to the top.
"I was scared too," Naim says eventually.
Ryan turns his head towards Naim again.
"He came to me. I thought it was you, too."
They look into eachothers’ eyes for a long, stretched out moment. Words unspoken run through their shared stare; “I’m sorry”, “I know”, “...I’m sorry, too.”
Then, Naim lifts a hand and rests it against Ryan's cheek. His eyes flutter closed almost immediately. The reaction is so instinctive that it makes something ache deep in Naim's chest. Ryan leans into the touch heavily, the tension leaving his shoulders all at once as he lets out a slow breath through his nose.
After a moment, Ryan lifts his own hand and covers Naim's where it rests against his face, his fingers curling loosely around the back of it before gently pressing it closer against his skin. His thumb brushes once across Naim's knuckles.
He presses closer, nudging his lips against Naim’s palm, pressing a soft kiss against it, before using his arm to pull him into a hug. Naim clutches onto him as tight as he possibly can; Ryan clutches back, his hands tightening in his hair.
They’re here, safe and breathing each other in.
-
Naim wakes up to the sound of thunder outside their cheap motel room.
He takes a glance around the room, only to make sure nothing is watching him. A few nights ago, Not-Ryan had been staring them down through the window as they were asleep. He hadn’t moved, he couldn’t even bring himself to breathe.
Naim had learned to deal with the entity –to a degree. He accepts its presence and its existence, but he’s still unable to bear the torturous ache that comes with knowing why it even exists in the first place.
The memory crosses Naim’s mind again and he winces. Why had he even been in Ryan’s driveway in the first place? He curses himself for being so intrusive. How will Ryan ever trust him again? Will Ryan ever trust him again? Naim starts to shake. Why had he been so–
“Naim?”
Ryan’s voice shakes Naim out of his trance, and Naim sighs when he looks up at Ryan. His eyes are glossy and heavy-lidded, dusted with the faint touch of sleep. His hair is tousled and sticking up in all directions and now his palms are rubbing Naim’s back and wow he’s really pretty and now Naim really wants to kiss him and-
“Naim? You good?” Ryan repeats, and Naim mumbles a quick “yeah” before lying back down, steadying his head on the hard cushion of the pillow beneath him. Ryan doesn’t let it slide though, obviously, and turns around to face Naim. He brings a hand up to his jaw and strokes his thumb over his cheek.
“Come on, Naim.”
Naim sighs and pushes at his chest softly when Ryan wiggles closer, chuckling lightly.
“Naiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmm-” Ryan hums and nudges his nose into Naim’s neck, throwing a leg over Naim’s legs to feel him closer. He presses a faint kiss to Naim’s jaw and nuzzles himself closer until he's almost fully on top of him. Naim attempts to push him off again but Ryan just tenses his grip.
“Oh my god, you're so annoying,” Naim sighs and Ryan giggles. Ryan shifts again, like he’s trying to get comfortable but mostly just ends up crowding Naim worse.
“Stop moving-” Naim mutters, pushing at Ryan once more,
“You’re the one pushing me, mate,” Ryan shoots back.
“Yeah, ‘cos you're in the– way–” He shoves him again, but now Ryan’s had enough. In one swift motion, Ryan captures Naim’s wrists with his hands and straddles his lap. He’s now looking down directly at Naim, who’s gone completely still beneath him. It’s funny, really, being in this position again– it reminds both of them of their very first kiss. Naim breaks their shared gaze and rolls his eyes. “Dickhead.”
Ryan raises his eyebrow and chortles a laugh, leaning down to kiss his neck gently. Naim sighs and relishes in the feeling of Ryan’s fingers wrapped around his wrist; even the simplest of touches satiates a deep hunger within him. Ryan pauses to steal a glance at Naim’s lips before diving back in to indulge himself in the taste of a dazed Naim Reid. Once his lips reach the corner of Naim’s mouth, Ryan stops his pecks. Naim voices a sound of annoyance, attempting to pull him in again, and Ryan does all but comply.
“So greedy,” he remarks, and Naim can feel Ryan smirk against his cheek. Naim scoffs and turns to face him again, though he had severely underestimated the distance between them. Their noses brush and their breaths stutter for a second before Ryan finally leans down and presses the gentlest ghost of a kiss onto Naim’s lips.
When they part, Ryan is met with the sight of a pouty Naim, who is currently giving him a scolding glare. Cute, Ryan thinks.
“What?” He inquires, poking Naim in the ribs lightly.
“Fuck you,” Naim giggles, attempting to escape the tight hold of Ryan’s really strong arms. “Kiss me.”
“A ‘please’ would be nice,” Ryan shoves him once more. “I just did!”
Naim groans and shakes his head. “You’re mean. So mean, really,” he says through a toothy grin. Ryan’s gaze makes its way back to Naim’s lips slowly, and Naim mirrors his stare.
“Oh noooo.. Whatever will we do?” Ryan coos. He releases his grip on Naim’s wrists, his palms trailing slowly from his arms up to his shoulders, the back of his neck, his hair. He licks his lips and looks back up into Naim’s wanting eyes.
Their eyes meet, and they hold the eye contact for about five seconds before bursting out with laughter. Naim nudges Ryan, calls him a dick before he pulls him down into a chaste little kiss. It’s just a little brush of their lips at first, but Naim is impatient and has been waiting, wanting. He’s basically famished at this point, threading his slender fingers into Ryan’s curls and pulling him closer.
He whines and whimpers at every smack of their lips, and he should be embarrassed, really, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. Ryan’s coaxing his mouth open with his own, pulling sounds out of his throat that he didn’t even know existed, digging his hands into the nape of his neck and into the small of his back. They devour and swallow eachother down with pure, animalistic intent, and all Naim can do is let his own needy moans break free while swallowing Ryan’s tongue.
“Eager, aren’t we-” Ryan whispers, but he can barely finish his remark before his own desire wins him over, and he licks his tongue into the wet cavern that is Naim’s mouth. Naim mewls and his grip in Ryan’s hair tightens. Ryan tilts his head further to the side to gain more access to Naim’s tongue, devouring him whole.
Naim doesn’t think of his guilt. He doesn’t recognize it in moments like this, when he’s fully enveloped in his own hunger, letting himself devour, letting himself take. The shame only fuels his need.
On a particular slide of their lips, their mutual hunger overlaps, and Ryan digs his teeth into Naim’s bottom lip, forcing a loud whine out of both of them. Naim tugs him impossibly closer and yanks on Ryan’s locks to get to a more specific angle, and Ryan damn near whimpers, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head as he mutters a soft “fuck” under his breath, before trailing his mouth down to the soft skin of Naim’s neck, suckling and kissing under his jaw. Naim exhales as he relishes in the sensation of Ryan’s kitten licks, rubbing his palms up and down his neck and arms.
Both of them are ripped out of their individual dazed state by the startling sound of thunder outside their motel room.
Right.
All that is to be heard is the soft patter of rainfall on the windowpane along with their panting. Ryan’s eyes scan over Naim’s face as he raises his head again. They both smile bashfully and Naim pushes Ryan off of him; he's flushed and extremely red in the face.
“Feel better?”
Naim shoves at him harder. “Fuck off! Go to sleep, man.”
Ryan giggles and nudges his head into Naim’s shoulder. “Nah.” His arms come to wrap around Naim, embracing him into his grasp once more.
He kisses the top of his head.
“It’s okay.”
-
When Ryan wakes, Naim isn’t in his arms.
He panics for about three seconds before he hears the sound of someone brushing their teeth in the bathroom a few feet away. He sighs with relief, dropping his face into the pillow next to him.
Then, Ryan rubs his eyes and gets up and out of bed, strolling over to the bathroom.
“Mornin’,” he yawns as he steps in.
“Hey.”
His voice is rough with sleep and rest and it makes Ryan want to eat him whole. A wave of possessiveness crawls through his stomach. He steps over and wraps his arms around Naim’s waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him. What once was the press of one kiss onto his bare shoulder turns into two, three, four…
“Ryan,” Naim exhales. He drops his head and puts the toothbrush onto the sink counter.
“That’s my name, yeah.” Ryan raises his head and gazes into the mirror; what reflects makes him shudder a bit.
Naim’s hair is dishevelled and mussed up, his shirt– which Ryan now realizes is, actually, his shirt –is falling off of his shoulder slightly, his lips are pouty and pink, his eyes are heavy-lidded and glossy. Ryan himself also still looks tired, but all he sees in the mirror is his hands wrapped around Naim’s lithe frame. The sheer difference in their height and size is enough to make Ryan feel a bit sinful.
They make eye contact in their reflection and Naim flashes a little smile at him before turning to face Ryan in his grasp. His hands are still comfortably settled on Naim’s hips, though Ryan slightly tightens his grip.
He’s never been face to face with true, raw hunger before. He had once believed that boys like Hunter were the closest he would ever get, but upon meeting Naim, his notions had changed.
Naim was the embodiment of Ryan’s desire. Among other things, of course. Ryan had, also, once believed that he had a good amount of self control when it came to his temptations. He had always had fairly good discipline around these things. But Naim had shown him a whole other side of himself, a side that Ryan himself hadn’t even known. All his yearning, craving, all his passion, all his sweetness, all his gentleness.
Upon the very first day of meeting Naim, Ryan had known that he wanted to devour him whole.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Naim retorts.
“Hm? Like what?”
Naim scoffs and brings a hand up to Ryan’s hair. His eyes drop down to Ryan’s lips. “...suck up. We’ve got work.”
Ryan groans and hides his head in Naim’s neck. “Fuck you. How much time have I got?”
“Enough.”
Ryan raises his head again and meets Naim’s lustful gaze. “..Good enough.”
He picks Naim up by the back of his legs, hoists him up onto the sink counter, and leans in to kiss him. Softly, at first, like how it always starts.
Though, as soon as Naim’s fingers tangle in Ryan’s still-messy hair and tug, Ryan can’t find it within himself to restrain any further hunger. That’s all it ever really takes for him– well. Naim in general is all it ever really takes.
He presses himself closer to Naim and slots his palms under his thighs and pulls until they’re close and touching. Naim’s legs bracket around Ryan’s hips. Naim’s next exhale of a breath is ripped from him as Ryan’s hands come up to rest on his neck gently. He never knows why, but something about his hands enclosing his neck makes him tremble, and not with fear.
Naim makes a pathetic sound that he absolutely does not mean to make, and Ryan answers by pressing even closer, tilting his head and coaxing his mouth open once more, slipping his tongue into his mouth.
They’re both lapping at each other's tongues, whining eagerly, hands grabbing everywhere and all over eachother; Naim thinks he might seriously die. He’s overcome with so many physical sensations at the moment that he has to take a moment to pause, break off the kiss, anything– but he simply cant bring himself to stop. He’s been trying hard to keep up with the pace of the kiss, with Ryan’s pace, he feels dizzy and hungry, he craves. Ryan’s hands squeeze at Naim’s neck gingerly, and the most needy moan breaks free of Naim’s throat. At that, Ryan pulls him in even further by the neck, tilting his head further to the side, cradling his face. Naim yanks at Ryan’s hair again, bites his bottom lip a bit too, coaxing a broken groan out of him.
“Oh, fuck you-” Ryan breathily exhales. Naim smiles against his mouth, murmuring a “when?” , pressing a short, final kiss to his lips before he starts to trail his kisses downward. His lips brush Ryan’s cheekbone, his jaw, his neck. He licks and suckles and kisses at the skin there, occasionally even bites just to hear Ryan’s breathy moans above him. After a bit, he feels Ryan’s hands in his hair, tugging on it a bit.
“Baby, stop,” Ryan whimpers and wow that petname hits Naim a bit harder than he would like it to. “Can’t leave a mark.”
“Says who?”
That causes Ryan to groan even louder. He tugs Naim back up to his mouth by his hair, slotting his tongue right back into Naim’s mouth, right where it belongs. Hes really sloppy-kissing him now, digging his fingertips into Naim’s waist and neck. Their sliding lips create nasty, filthy sounds in the solace of their motel bathroom and they both can’t get enough of it.
Soon enough, a shortage of breath catches up to them and they part for just a second. A thick string of saliva threads between them and Naim knows it’ll be the hottest thing he’ll have ever experienced. They rest their foreheads against each other and catch their breath.
Naim drops his head onto Ryan’s shoulder, grinning. His cheeks are dusted with a rosy pink hue. “Jesus.”
“Don’t bring him into this,” Ryan giggles. Naim shoves at his chest.
“Dickhead.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hate you too.”
“Oh, yeah?” Naim raises an eyebrow. His eyes trail down. “Don’t think your little friend agrees.”
“Fuck off!” Ryan scoffs and pushes at Naim’s chest. “Little?”
That takes Naim aback a bit, his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Ryan smiles, a cocky little thing, before turning to look at the clock.
“I’ve got about ten more minutes before I gotta leave,” he says as he looks back at Naim.
They exchange a glance. Ryan’s eyes drop down to Naim’s lips, then back up. Then back down.
Naim pretends to think for a moment. “Hmm…” And then he’s back to kissing down Ryan’s neck gently.
“You have got to stop doing that,” Ryan sighs, despite his hands clutching at Naim’s back to pull him closer. “I’ll never get to work at this rate.”
“That’s the goal. Keep you here for as long as I have to,” Naim argues inbetween pecks.
“Might cause financial problems. One of us has got to..” but his sentence trails off. He’s way too entranced to keep his focus on anything other than Naim’s lips.
“Yeah? Got to what?” Naim grins. Ryan scoffs. “Dickhead.”
“Nine more minutes, we better hurry up.”
“Since when are you this demanding, Christ," Ryan chuckles, threading his fingers through Naim’s hair.
“‘m not.” Kiss. “You’re just-” Another kiss. “-too slow.” One more kiss.
Naim is beginning to miss Ryan’s mouth, so he takes matters in his own hands, pressing his kisses higher until they reach the corner of his mouth again. Naim taps at Ryan’s mouth with his pointer finger and, naturally, Ryan complies.
“So needy this mornin’,” he states. “What’s the matter with you, huh?”
Naim whines at that, tilting his head to kiss him harder. “Shut up,” he whispers in between kisses. “You gonna do something about it?”
Ryan snickers. “I might.” He reaches down, his hand sliding from his waist to his thighs, squeezing the fat there. Naim keens at that, spitting out a “shit-!” from under his breath.
“Pretty loud for someone talkin’ this big and mighty,” Ryan remarks, shifting his hand closer and closer to where Naim needs it so badly.
“Fuck– fuck you–” he breathes out. “Reckon you can’t even– hhhfuck–”
“Can’t even finish your sentence, can ya?” Ryan breathes out a laugh. His hands move further. Naim can’t even form a coherent sentence and Ryan’s not even touching him there yet. Jesus, he's so gone.
“Don’t worry.” Ryan kisses his temple. “I’ve got seven more minutes to take care of ya.”