Sugar Talking
Ryland Grace x Fem!Reader (4.7k)
CW: Angst, Smut (Oral, P in V)
They say love shouldn’t feel like work, and they’re right. But maintaining it? That’s the work, and it’s hard if you want it to last.
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You and Ryland have been on a bit of a rough patch.
Well, patch would mean it’s been short, it's more like a rough… era.
Ever since Ryland and you were recruited to Project Hail Mary, you haven't had a lot of time for each other. It’s been board meetings and tests and late nights in labs that have put a strain on your relationship.
You’ve both been bad, there’s no villain, no arguments, you both are just… busy. Maybe there would be a better excuse if you hated what you did, but you don’t. You both enjoy it, but it’s a lot.
Enough that you guys may as well not be dating these days. You still sleep in the same bed (when you’re not pulling an all-nighter), you still say I love you, and you really do mean it, but things are different.
Now? Things are quiet.
Not even the quiet you were comfortable with before, the kind where you could sit tangled together and not speak for hours. No, this silence makes you feel empty, like something is missing.
And there is.
You notice it in the smaller things. The way Ryland used to reach for you hand like it was second nature, now he always hesitates, like he has to remember it’s something he should do. The way you both default to talking about work because at least then you don’t have to talk about what’s going on between the two of you. The way you miss him, even though he’s right there.
Tonight is another late one, or you assumed.
You rest against the edge of the bed, still in your work clothes, just… staring ahead at nothing in particular. The bedside lamp’s glow is warm and soft enough that it almost feels like things are normal.
Almost.
The door opens, and you don’t bother looking, you know it’s Ryland. You can tell by his stride, he’ll come in, say hi, get ready for bed, kiss your cheek, and sleep. It’s about what you’re used to.
“Hey,” right on cue.
“Hi.”
And even this sounds wrong. Far too polite, like you’re just coworkers seeing each other in the hallway.
Yet he doesn’t move for the bathroom, doesn’t go into the usual hollow rhythm. Instead, he just looks at you, staring, though doesn’t say anything. You can’t handle it, so you finally look at him.
“What?” you ask, and it comes out harsher than you meant. It’s not fair of you, he hasn’t done anything. You suppose that’s the problem, neither of you have done anything.
He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I think… I think I miss you.”
It lands quickly and hard. You miss him too, but you’re not sure if you can say it. So you don’t.
“I’m right here,” it’s defensive when you don’t want it to be.
“I know.” He moves closer, his voice quiet. “That’s kind of the problem.”
There’s silence again, but this one’s different. It’s full, like a pressure cooker begging to pop.
“I don’t want this,” he gestures between you both, “Us… feeling like this. We don’t act like we’re together. We just share a bed now.”
Your chest tightens. He’s right, and you have nothing to say. You’ve both known it, just too scared what would break if it was said.
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
Ryland laughs in a humorless way. “How could I not? I notice everything about you.”
He’s closer now, next to you. There’s exhaustion in his eyes and something else. Fear, maybe. Definitely.
“I don’t want to lose you to this project, or to… everything else.”
You shake your head immediately. “You’re not losing me.”
“Aren’t I?” His voice cracks and you feel even more guilty. “Because it feels like you’re already gone.”
Your voice is instant as your head snaps up.
“I’m not! Sorry, I-... I’m just overwhelmed. And tired… and scared. I mean- this whole thing is…” You gesture vaguely, like you could ever sum up what “this whole thing” is. “It’s a lot.”
Ryland nods, like he understands that part at least. Which- of course he does. He’s right there in it with you.
“It’s all terrifying.” He lets out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to the floor before flicking back up to you. “But I don’t want to be so busy being scared of the end of the world that I forget about… us.”
And he’s right.
Again.
Damn.
You swallow, and you feel your throat tighten. “I didn’t mean for it to get like this.”
“Neither did I.” His voice is gentle, not accusing, which somehow makes it worse. You know if it were you you’d be more frustrated. “It just… happened. One late night turned into ten, turned into not talking, turned into…” He gestures vaguely, like you had. “This.”
“We’re really bad at this, huh?”
“At saving the world?” he tries.
“At being together.”
That wipes any hint of humor from his face. “I don’t think we’re bad at it,” he says, inching even closer now, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. “I think we just stopped trying.”
Ouch.
Your eyes sting a little at that, and you hate how it feels. How true it is. Not because you stopped caring, but because you assumed he’d always just be there. That you both would. That love alone would carry the weight without effort.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” you admit. “You always look so… focused. And I know how important all of this is and I just- I didn’t want to be another thing pulling at you. I knew I was stressed enough. I couldn’t imagine how it was for you”
His expression softens immediately, something almost pained flickering across it. “You’re not a burden.”
“I know that, logically,” you say quickly. “But it feels like it sometimes. Like if I ask for more of you, I’m taking you away from something that matters. And I am! This is bigger than either of us!”
Ryland shakes his head as he moves closer till his legs are almost touching yours. For a few seconds, his hands dangle limply from his sides; he seems to have forgotten what he should be doing with them, before his fingers move tentatively forward, hesitantly seeking contact.
As though he's asking for permission.
That comes close to breaking you.
"You matter. Not less than the project, not less than anything. You matter with it. I just… forgot how to show you that. I’m sorry."
His fingers brushing yours makes you hold your breath. It's such an insignificant touch, barely more than the gentlest pressure between two people sitting next to each other. But it feels louder than anything in the world.
"I missed this," you murmur, glancing down at where your fingers brush.
"Me too."
The way he intertwines his fingers with yours is slow and careful this time, and it almost feels as though he's trying to learn something long-forgotten. Your hands tingle as his thumb skims across your knuckles.
"...I miss you," you confess, voice trembling slightly.
Ryland exhales, apparently relieved to hear you say so. "Yeah?"
You nod quickly. "A lot. Even when you’re right in front of me, I just… I felt like I couldn’t reach you anymore.”
"I'm right here," he whispers back, repeating what you'd told him earlier, but softer, warmer, as though he thinks he can somehow make that happen. He isn't being defensive, he's trying to reassure you. "You can reach me."
Your gaze lifts from the floor, meeting his once again. The weariness, the tension, the worry, but underneath, he hasn't changed at all. The same guy who used to wrap you in his arms automatically, without ever having to ask questions.
Your free hand rises, tentative, resting against his face within moments. He leans into your touch almost immediately, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he’s starved for contact.
"I don't want to lose you," you whisper.
"You won't if we stop pretending nothing’s wrong," he responds quietly.
And then, before you realize it, a tear slides down your cheek, eliciting an embarrassed little laugh from you. "Wow… not how I thought tonight would go"
But Ryland just offers you a soft smile, albeit one tinged with sadness of its own. "Me neither. I was ready to go in there and brush my teeth and pretend we were fine."
You pause, tilting your head. “Why tonight?”
“Hmm?”
"Why talk tonight? Why didn’t you just go to sleep?"
"...Then I realized that I missed loving you."
You laugh, but your eyes are more wet now. "Well, that fits pretty well."
His hand moves up and brushes away the tears from your face, resting his thumb there. "Hey- everything is fine. It's just that we… needed to talk. And maybe…," and then he pauses, for a moment looks down at your lips and back up "Maybe we just needed to remember how to love each other."
"…Yeah," you whisper. "I think I remember."
And this time when he bends down, there is no fear of rejection.
It’s a slow and sweet kiss, like you are afraid that one of you will stop. But you don’t, and he pulls you by the neck, and you clutch onto his shirt, it turns passionate.
And it feels like months of separation were poured into it, and it is all messy and sweet and right.
You move away just far enough to lay your forehead against his, both of you are catching your breaths.
"Hi there," he says quietly, his lips forming a smile.
You make a sound of amusement and laugh softly. "Hi."
His smile lingers, softer now, but there’s something different in it, something warm, a little more certain. Like he’s not afraid you’re gonna slip through his fingers the second he lets go.
Neither of you pull away.
Your noses brush, breath still uneven, and there’s this quiet moment where you just look at each other, really look, like you haven’t had the time to in months. His hand is still cupping your face, thumb absentmindedly tracing along your cheekbone, like he’s relearning you by touch.
“You’re… really here,” he murmurs, almost like he’s convincing himself.
You huff a soft laugh. “Last I checked.”
“No, I mean- you feel here again.”
That does something to your chest.
Your fingers curl into his shirt again, but this time it’s not out of urgency, instead it’s grounding. “You do too.”
There’s a beat. Then his eyes flick down to your lips again, slower this time, more deliberate.
“You gonna kiss me again,” you whisper, “or just think about it?”
That earns you a quiet, breathy laugh (one you haven’t heard in too long) and then he does.
This one is different from the first. It’s still deep, still full of everything you haven’t said, but less overall frantic, more intentional. He leans into you, and you lean back, and somehow you end up shifting without really noticing until you’re the one being eased back onto the bed, the lamp casting everything in that same soft gold.
His hand slides from your cheek to your jaw, then down, pausing at your neck like he’s checking if this is still okay.
You tilt your head slightly into his touch in answer.
“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, the words barely there.
“I’ve heard. I can tell,” you hum, though your voice catches a little when his thumb brushes just under your collar.
He smiles into the kiss and it makes something warm bloom low in your chest.
For the first time in a while, neither of you are trying to beat a clock or steal a moment between obligations. His hands take their time, tracing familiar paths like he’s reminding both of you what this feels like. You shift under him, closer, and he exhales softly at the contact, forehead dropping briefly to yours again like he needs the pause.
“God,” he mutters, almost to himself. “How did we go so long without this?”
You brush your thumb along his cheek, catching the edge of a tired smile. “We were being very noble and self-sacrificing.”
“Yeah. Nice way to say stupid.”
You both laugh, and it breaks whatever tension was left. Soon enough, his lips are back on yours, sure of himself. One hand moves from your face and begins to move upwards under your shirt, and it feels so good you feel goosebumps up your back.
"This needs to come off," he says against your lips, starting to pull the bottom of your shirt.
You chuckle lightly against his lips, "Does it now?"
Ryland lets out something akin to a groan, which you have not heard in a long time. The shiver you get makes heat flood through your core.
"Yeah, it does..."
His hands won't give any space to raise questions. You can feel him taking off your shirt and throwing it to the side, his gaze traveling over you in a way that leaves you with no other choice but to shiver.
"My sweet boy… you're all wound up… show me you missed me?"
Ryland swallows hard, looking at you with lips slightly parted.
"Always."
Hands go for your waist and unbutton your pants, quickly pulling them off along with your underwear. Lifting your hips a little helps you get rid of the last bit of fabric that is in his way.
He stares at your eyes with a hungry gaze, taking in your appearance, and the way his eyes travel over you makes you feel hot.
"Holy moly, I forgot how pretty you are."
"Fuck- good... show- God... I want you, Ry..."
A shiver runs through you as Ryland’s hands drift higher, brushing just above your knee before sliding slowly along your skin. Not pressing, only grazing - enough to pull a breathless sound from your throat. Each curve of your body seems to hold his attention, studied without hurry. The space between his palm and your hip feels charged, empty in the worst way. You shift slightly, chasing pressure that doesn't come.
Shivers run through you when he touches you. His name slips out, “Ryland…”
He lifts his gaze suddenly, away from his hands, locking onto you as if pulled by something deeper than sight.
"What do you want?" He murmurs.
You speak so softly, each word heavy, as if dragged from deep inside.
“Please touch me…”
Ryland isn’t making you plead, no, not now. Down your body he goes, lips brushing skin in soft trails while his tongue explores each spot it finds. Your thighs part with little resistance under his touch. There he settles, right where the heat builds.
A shiver runs down your spine as his hand climbs up your thigh. Soft touches trace the warmth beneath your skin. One by one, moments stretch into quiet breaths. Fingers drift where heat begins to rise. Movement slows just before everything tightens. A pause lingers in the air between you.
“You’re so wet…”
You clamp down on a sharp breath instead of letting it out. Your body fights the urge to make noise. Hips lift slightly, chasing contact, seeking pressure where his hands are
He lets out a little hum, almost laughing. The warmth of his breath brushes over your skin.
His thumb swipes over your clit, resulting in a gasp. There’s this moment where he remains hovered, just a breath away, like he’s taking a second to savor this. To memorize like it’ll be gone again.
He lets out a shaky exhale and then he’s on you. He pushes two fingers between your folds, while his mouth wraps around your clit. Your hips jerk up against him on instinct, and then he's holding your hips down, lapping and sucking with a fervor.
You cry out and try to muffle the sound with your hand, legs shaky as he flicks his tongue over you. He knows your body way too well, even with the time. He uses all the tricks he perfected over the time you were together. All the right spots to focus on, the pace to keep, the pressure to apply. He takes you straight to the edge, then pulls back just as you feel yourself start to lose control. He teases, he draws it out, but doesn’t let you tip over. It’s torturous. Jackass.
"Oh my god- oh my god,” you whimper and grip his hair.
Ryland moans against you, the vibration making you arch off the bed. It’s like he’s getting just as much pleasure out of this as you are. The sound is filthy and so so loud in the confines of the room, but you could never be upset about it.
"Ry- please," you gasp out through panting breaths. "Don't stop- please-"
"You taste so good," he mumbles against you, voice hoarse, the vibrations against your clit sending shocks through you. "I missed this. You."
He goes back to where he was, lapping at you like he's trying to learn you again, like this is the only thing that matters. That has ever mattered. His fingers grip you firmly, keeping you still. You’re mewling and writhing helplessly now, unable to stop the sounds coming out of you. You’d be more embarrassed if you could think straight. Luckily, you can’t.
”I’m gonna c-mmmm..."
Ryland picks up the pace, sensing you’re close. His hand presses into your hips tighter, and you can feel your thighs shaking.
"Please, please, please,” your hand tugs at his hair desperately. "Please let me- I need to- ah- you can't tease- it's not fair, it's not fair... it's been so long..."
Ryland just hums in response, the sound low and sending shivers running down your spine. He finally gives you what you want, what you’re both craving. He sucks your clit hard, pushing his fingers into you in a come hither motion, finding that sweet spot that makes you keen in seconds like it’s second hand.
"Oh fuck," the words are moaned out on an exhale like a prayer. "Oh God, that's- that's so good, so- so- mmmmm...”
You're already lost, hands gripping the sheets, your back arching off the mattress. He works you like he can never get enough of you, like each sound and twitch is some kind of reward. His reward, given completely to him, reveling in it.
Your legs are shaking hard now, your toes digging into the mattress as he works you toward the edge again, and then you’re there. He holds you firmly, doesn’t let you move, just keeps going until you’re coming apart. Your whole body tenses as you come hard, head thrown back in a silent scream as pleasure floods through you.
You whine in protest as Ryland withdraws his tongue, and then he’s pulling away enough to look up at you. He’s panting, face pink and wet, looking like a wreck.
”That… was... wow."
You’re panting too, legs still shaking, body shuddering with aftershocks. You look down at him, at the way he’s looking up at you through his eyelashes, eyes light.
"You’re so pretty,” you whisper, voice hoarse, pushing a hand through his hair. "I love you so much."
Ryland grins up at you and moves up the bed, crawling up your body and settling between your legs. He’s hard, you can feel his cock against your thigh, leaking already and it makes you shiver.
It feels insane that you want him this badly still, even after all the time that’s passed, the distance you felt. But God, you do. You want him. The fact that he’s still yours, and that you’re still his, it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.
"Need your pants off..."
“Impatient,” he echoes himself, but with a bit of a chuckle thrown in for good measure.
Your eyes roll as you grin, feeling brave and frantic. You lift yourself up just enough so that you can unbutton his pants efficiently and slide them down along with his underwear.
There’s something comforting about the sight of him, flushed and naked before you. It’s nice, the way his weight settles against your own. He reaches an arm around himself to guide himself into position. The hand that holds you by the hip is familiar.
“Are you alright?” he questions softly.
“Yeah,” you reply, breathless. “Definitely.”
He draws you closer to him with his hand placed on your hip, and then he starts moving inside you slowly. You try to position yourself properly for him. He takes a breath and slides inside you deeply without hurting you. And then he starts moving inside you slowly, and you find yourself moaning very soon. His hand moves off your hip, goes up, and rests on your chest, on your breast.
"God, look at you," he says, and you feel something squeezing in your chest due to the awe in his voice. He looks down at his hand touching you, as if he is witnessing something unbelievable.
“You’re so perfect.”
Your head hangs back, your hands gripping his arms as you press your hips against his in time with his thrusts. You drape one leg over his waist, your mind foggy and unable to think about anything else except for him. There’s nothing else that you can concentrate on other than how he feels within you.
“I forgot…” you choke out, your nails digging into the skin on his arms.
“What did you forget?” he manages to rasp, his teeth gritted together, as he begins to thrust at a more rapid pace. One of his hands slips down to your waist, restraining you, and he drives into you harder, just a bit roughly.
“Just how good you feel,” you manage to say in a voice choked with desire.You squeeze him instinctively, causing him to groan, low and rough, as he grips your waist.
“You sound so good,” he murmurs, eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the movements. “I…want… need you…”
The perspiration is glistening on his body from where his skin touches your thighs, stomach, and chest. He leans in close and plants a kiss on one of your breasts, sucking on your skin while nipping at your nipple.
Your muscles clench from that small sensation of pain and another moan is released without any consideration of how loud it might be this time, arching your body towards his. You hear his breathing getting heavier and the noises he is making because he is slowly losing control over himself.
His mouth touches yours and a hard bite is administered on your bottom lip while tongues fight, his hands find your chin and trace your cheeks as he continues thrusting into you with ever more desperation.
Every time there is a snap of his hip against yours, every time he thrusts deeper into you, moans and whimpers are being squeezed out from your throat. You grasp at his back as tight as possible, your nails biting into his flesh harder than intended.
"Not gonna...last," he grinds out, and the sentence gets your heart racing. You whine, tugging at him, begging for him, and your entire body is shaking.
"I don't care," you rasp out.
"You close too?" he pants out, his hips moving inside you ever faster until his entire steady rhythm disintegrates. You breathe in a gasping moan, utterly incoherent.
"Yes, yes, so close - god, please- " you cry out, your legs shaking and your back bowing in pleasure. Another thrust from him leaves you seeing stars and sends you tumbling over the edge. He follows not long after, stilling inside you as he mutters curses under his breath, and somewhere along the line you realize that his cock is inside you in the deepest way possible and that this is one of your favorite things in the entire world.
He collapses atop you, both of you sweaty and panting for breath. He buries his face in your shoulder, nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel his erratic chest against yours.
With whatever strength you have left, you find the capacity to hold onto him, and for several seconds there, you merely remain like that, catching your breaths.
You feel like a rag doll; like your muscles have utterly deserted you, and you cling to him as if your body physically cannot move. Ryland makes a heavy sigh against your flesh, and you hear a soft chuckle resonate in his chest - a laugh that you know means that he's being far too smug about everything, but you simply cannot be bothered.
"Shut up," you murmur.
"I never said anything," he says back, and he’s still holding you close to his body, his voice sounding muffled against your skin.
"But you’re smiling. I know that for a fact."
Then he laughs, and then he pulls away to look down at you, with an amused expression in those light eyes of his.
"You love it."
You exhale, but then you can’t deny that either, and you know that he could see it in your face. He’s still deep inside of you, but he’s relaxing, and even when things are messy, you simply don’t want to let him go.
Your hand reaches to stroke away the wet hair from his forehead, your hand sliding across his face until it stops at the side of his cheek.
"...Will things be alright between us?"
It seems to surprise him a little; you can see by the way he looks at you, not having expected you to change your mind in such a way. But he gets over it quickly enough, shifting slightly, so that he’s no longer leaning on you. Instead, he draws you in closer, and you let him without a second thought, your head pressed into his chest.
He leans his head onto yours, tracing his hand down your back.
"Yeah,” he whispers. “I think it will be.”
His answer fills your heart, warming and comforting you, and as you allow yourself to melt against him, you catch a sigh escape from him, like he had been holding it in as long as you did.
“I love you,” you murmur against his skin, feeling his arms wrap around you.
“I love you too.”
You pull back far enough to look up at him, seeing the guilt that is written all over his face, regret that you have seen etched into him for months.
You take your hand and run your thumb along his cheekbone gently.
"Hey," you whisper softly, looking at him with gentle eyes. "Don’t do that."
"Do what?" He replies in his own defense, as if trying to hide that he is feeling guilty.
"Blaming yourself for everything.”.
"I don’t blame myself.”
Your brow arches skeptically, making him roll his eyes in return.
Ryland huffs and falls backwards, hitting the pillow with a dull thud.
"Okay, maybe I blame myself a little bit."
You roll your eyes, and one corner of your mouth twitches up. "Sometimes you’re an idiot, we both are. But…we’re okay now."
"Yeah," he agrees, and a smile tugs at his lips, and you see it, and it tightens your chest for some reason.
His eyes flutter open again, and he leans down to look at you, his hand reaching out to cup the side of your neck. He runs his thumb over your lower lip, doing nothing to diminish the heat that’s pooled in your stomach ever since he had done what he did just moments before, but this was new.
He trails his fingers down your neck and along your collarbone, and his eyes follow suit.
You follow his movements, fingers tracing his neck, feeling the stubble on the skin. He closes his eyes once again, leaning into your touch, enjoying it.
You move closer to Ryland, and he sighs, wrapping his arms tighter around you.
There’s nothing but you two right now, and it feels right.
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Note: Lmk any thoughts! Please enjoy. Wanted to make this less angsty but I can never help myself apparently. In that vain to try and break from tha think after another thing or two I’ll do grad student Grace so if you’re keeping an eye out for smut that’ll be that lol. Reqs and asks are open as always. This one was a lot to write but I wanted to get it out before I went to bed. Take care!!! :)
