SORE WINNER
❥ you and ryan take any opportunity to have some fun, even if it’s in the hotel room he’s sharing with his friend.
tags. friends with benefits, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, blowjob, bathroom sex, cumshot, facial, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, i’m sorry roman (not really)
wc. 4.3k
hope it was worth the wait bc i lost my mind & the plot a little bit
You stare at the cards in your hand and then glance at the pile of cards splayed across the white sheets of the hotel bed, noting the one at the top.
“It’s your turn,” Roman points out helpfully, like you haven’t been playing the same round for the past 30 minutes. You cast him an annoyed glance, placing your card of choice on top—a draw 4.
Initially, you didn’t want to play, but Roman insisted you join in while Nate, Jonah, and Hollis were out getting more snacks. Even then, you still didn’t want to play because you knew how competitive he got. But when Ryan chimed in, saying, “It would be more fun if you played with us,” you caved, and now you’re on an impressive losing streak while Roman and Ryan duel it out.
You watch as Roman’s face falls, and he groans, “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, I got more if you keep complaining,” you reply. You were pretty sure you had half of the deck in your hand with a variety of draw 2’s and skip turns, whereas both of them only had one card in their hand for most of the game. Uno was not supposed to be this drawn out amongst three people, but for some reason, neither of them wanted to call it quits, and as a result, you were on the receiving end of draw 4 chains that you may or may not have started.
Ryan bites back a laugh as Roman begrudgingly picks up four more cards from the rather depleted deck, a scowl on his face.
“You have to pick a colour too,” Roman scoffs. You ignore the hint of condescension in his tone, staring at the numerous cards in your hand for a moment. It didn’t matter which colour you chose, because you had at least 3 cards with it.
“Um, blue,” you say, glancing at Ryan. There’s a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. You knew for a fact that he had a blue card. You were staring at him too hard for the past half hour not to notice. You probably could’ve caught a glimpse of his card in the reflection of his light eyes from how hard you were staring at him.
You’d be lying if you said it was for strategic purposes. No, Ryan looked good, leaning lazily against the headboard of the hotel bed with a pillow on his lap. He was shirtless—of course, he was. Not that you were complaining. It was late, and you all were winding down from the day. He was probably gonna go to bed after this, and if you were lucky enough, with you.
However, your ogling had given you an advantage. After a couple of rounds, you had managed to figure out what card he had. You would even go as far as to say you enjoyed collecting 12 cards from the deck because of the teasing grin he’d give you when he placed an additional draw 4 card to the chain you started.
That had to be some sick sort of masochism. It left you flustered—his smile and the way he’d laugh, mockingly apologizing for fucking you over. You were losing your mind over a fucking card game. You were glad it was almost over.
“Suck my dick,” Ryan taunts, tossing the blue card on the messy pile of cards at the centre of the bed.
Roman looked pissed from where he sat near the edge of the bed, but you were grateful. Despite the look he gave you, you couldn’t blame him. You did throw the entire game, so you didn’t have to sit there and collect more cards. It was a coincidence that Ryan won and not him.
“Good game,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood.
“You’re cheating. Both of you,” Roman accuses. “You two were teaming.”
“What?” you say, baffled at his words. You couldn’t be too shocked, though. You knew Roman would do everything but accept the fact that he lost.
“Bro, it’s Uno,” Ryan says. His grin widens when Roman rolls his eyes at both of you.
“You two were eyeing each other like crazy. I know y’all have it out for me.”
You were embarrassed that Roman, of all people, noticed that. You collect all the Uno cards that were messily sprawled on the bed, refusing to acknowledge the truth. It’s not like you and Ryan drew up a scheme to ensure Roman’s downfall. It was all coincidental.
“You swear you’re like a god at Uno or some shit. You fucking suck,” Ryan continues to gloat.
It was hot, you thought shamefully. The confidence oozed with each word he said as he leaned back on the pillows piled up behind him, his hips tilting upwards for a brief moment as he situated himself more comfortably. He didn’t give a fuck.
Roman flips him off and gets up off the mattress. In response, Ryan tosses the pillow that was on his lap at Roman, which, after colliding with him, falls to the floor. Roman glares at Ryan, then turns his attention to you, calling your name.
You glance up at him from where he stands at the foot of the bed. “Don’t act all innocent. I only lost ‘cause you were helping out your boyfriend.”
You tense at Ryan being referred to as your boyfriend. You weren’t exactly together, and you definitely wouldn’t call him your boyfriend, but you felt a fluttering in your abdomen at Roman’s claim. It could be anxiety—you didn’t want your arrangement to be perceived as a relationship or at all. You two were just friends. Or maybe it was the exact opposite. You wanted him to be your boyfriend.
You meet Ryan’s gaze. His smile didn’t falter at the term. Noticing would be admitting, so you shrugged off Roman’s mocking words, scoffing, “Or maybe you lost ‘cause you fucking suck.”
“You guys fucking suck,” Roman huffs out in weak retaliation.
Ryan is still smirking, and you’re too busy stuffing the cards back into the beat-up box to entertain him. He walks away, trying to get as far away from both of you as possible. Well, as far as the hotel room would allow him. Roman was sharing a room with Ryan, yet he was forced to sit in the corner of the room after his friends bullied him for losing.
“He’s such a sore loser,” you joke. Roman was on his phone, seated in the chair on the opposite end of the room, clearly not interested in either of you.
“He always gets like that when he loses,” Ryan agrees.
“We’re kinda being unfair. I had way more cards.” You felt somewhat guilty that you played the game in Ryan’s favour, but you didn’t want to sit through another round of nothing. You were definitely the loser by definition.
“Yeah, but you’re not being a big baby about it,” he said loud enough for Roman to hear, but he maintains his facade of indifference.
You sit next to him, back pressed to the headboard. There’s enough space between you both, yet you long to sit closer to him, to feel his body heat radiating off him. Close enough to smell his cologne in a way friends typically don’t do.
“Roman’s right. You were eyeing me like crazy,” Ryan whispers. The room is not big, and he definitely doesn’t want Roman listening to your conversation, so his voice is hushed as if you’re both spilling secrets. You use it as an excuse to shift closer to him.
“It’s part of the game,” you retort. His head rests on the headboard, and his gaze lingers on you. He sees right through your bullshit, a grin on his face. The same grin that hadn’t left his face since he won.
“Part of the game is eye fucking me? What kind of house rules you play by?”
Caught off guard by his words, your eyes widen in shock. Your face burns at his words, and you sputter, “I wasn’t eye fucking you.”
“Mhm, right,” he agrees, humming mockingly.
“I swear, I was admiring your insane skills. You should definitely go pro,” you say, brushing it off like it was a joke.
“Yeah? Did my Uno skills get you wet?” He teases. “That’s why you’ve been staring so hard.”
You scoff at his words. You hate to admit there was some truth to his claim—you could give less of a fuck about Uno, but he was infuriatingly sexy when he got smug.
“You wish.”
The tension between the two of you was palpable. His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up once more to meet your gaze, and your heart skips a beat. You were starting to get nervous. Subtly, you try to wipe your clammy palms on your sweatshirt—the sweatshirt you stole from him.
“C’mon, don’t you think I deserve a prize for winning?” He asks.
“What kind of prize?” You question, quirking your brow in curiosity.
You had an inkling of what kind of reward Ryan wanted. Your hand moves between both of you, resting on his thigh. You were playing it safe, trying to gauge his reaction. His lips part in surprise, but then his warm palm presses to the back of your hand, a stark contrast to the cold room. With his hand, he guides you closer to his crotch.
“Stop playing,” he whispers, his eyes focused on his hand on yours. His hand, which was larger than yours, was delicately wrapped around your hand, daring you to take what you want—and give him what he wanted.
Ryan groans quietly when you palm him through his shorts. He tilts his head back onto the headboard, exposing his neck. He swallows his moans as you stroke him, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His hand, which previously rested on yours, grasps your upper thigh. Blunt nails dig into the soft skin of your inner thigh, attempting to ground himself while simultaneously drawing you in.
You position yourself closer to him, so close you can feel the body warmth radiating off him, pulling you in even further, like a moth to a flame. There was an obvious outline of his painfully hard length through the thin, black fabric of his shorts, and a damp patch in the cloth where the head of his cock leaked precum.
You two had barely done anything since Hollis was on tour. Every corner turned, someone was there, and neither of you wanted to raise suspicion that something was going on between you both. You two were always together, but it was never enough. It had been far too fucking long since you touched him like this. The accumulation of platonic touches that weren’t so platonic and not-so-subtle glances shared between you two was finally breaking the dam.
Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, silencing your own sounds as you focus on his expression, because he looked so good for you.
Ryan is a mess, plush lips parted as he lets out quiet sighs, and his hips gently bucking into your hold. The sight has you squeezing your thighs together, trapping his thick fingers in the process as you try to quell the dull ache in your core. You can’t help but whimper quietly, “Can you feel how wet I am for you?”
“Wait, fuck, not here,” Ryan mumbles, his chest heaving slightly. Because he can feel how needy you are for him, the heat radiating off your clothed cunt, aching to be played with. Any longer and he would make a mess on the front of his shorts.
His hand slips free from its imprisonment, sandwiched between your thighs, to grasp at your wrist, stopping your movement reluctantly. You stare at him in confusion, eyes wide blown with lust. He motions over to Roman. Too caught up in giving Ryan his well-deserved reward, you forgot about Roman, sitting in the corner of the room, probably losing a game in Clash Royale.
You move away from Ryan, creating enough distance between you both. Your face is warm—from desire or embarrassment, you can’t decipher. You take a quick glimpse at where Roman sat, still lost in his phone with a frown on his face. Thankfully, he didn’t witness the heavy petting.
Staring into the distance, lost in thought, you anxiously play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You’re grateful for Roman’s ability to hold a grudge. You didn’t want to think about how he’d react if he did catch you. Your emotions were conflicting. You felt guilty, yet you didn’t want to stop.
Ryan is lost in thought, too, as he adjusts his shorts, a faint hiss escaping his lips. A couple of minutes have passed, and his erection is still achingly hard. His head falls back onto the headboard with a thump as he tries to ignore it. His fingers were idly playing with the drawstrings of his shorts.
The silence was drawn out as the weight of the situation failed to rest on both of you. Only the shred of dignity that continues to strip away when you’re in close proximity to Ryan prevented you from finishing what you started.
“You know, I was thinking of a kiss as a reward,” he whispers. His voice is still breathy as it cuts through the silence. You turn your head to face him once more. He continues, “Jerking me off was better, though.”
Your eyes flicker to his lips, then back to his eyes. His eyes, which were usually as blue as the sky, are overcast with desire. His pupils were dilated, taking in more light, taking in more of you. Ryan leans in close. You can feel his lips brushing against yours, but you tilt your head away. An exasperated sigh from him kisses your cheek instead, and a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips.
“You’ll grope my dick but pass up on a kiss?” He scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
“No, you’re right, Roman’s nearby,” You justify.
“Now you care,” he says. Honestly, you didn’t really care. You enjoyed teasing him. The annoyed look he’d give you with the slight pout of his lips was worth it. If anything, it made you want to kiss him even more.
You get up from the bed, smoothing out your clothes in an almost comical manner. Ryan’s eyes linger on your form with each movement you make, his brows furrowing in confusion.
“Where you goin’?” Ryan asks hurriedly, failing to hide his disappointment.
“I’m gonna give you your prize, silly.” An innocent smile graces your lips, betraying your true intention. You add, “I mean, if you want it.”
You outstretch your hand towards him as an offering, and without hesitation, Ryan intertwines his fingers with yours. You tug his arm, and he rises from his spot on the bed. He trails behind you eagerly, like a trained puppy following its owner. Roman doesn't bother to spare you two a glance as you disappear down the hall.
You don’t waste time when you enter the hotel’s bathroom. Once you ensure the door is locked, you’re pouncing on him as if you were a starved animal and he was your prey. From the way you were staring at him earlier, it wouldn’t be far off. You’ve been dying for a taste of him. It’s been 72 hours without him touching you the way you want him to, and it’d be okay if the fucker wasn’t such a tease.
With his back pressed to the edge of the sink’s counter, you have him exactly where you wanted him—cornered and anticipating your next move. Ryan cuts it short by wrapping one of his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he kisses you. His plush lips move in time with yours, both hungry, and it doesn’t help that you can taste the sugar crystals on his lips that were left behind from the sour patch kids he was previously snacking on.
His hand trails along the curve of your back down to grope at your ass, and you part from his lips with a quiet gasp. His erection rubs against your tummy. He’s still hard from you stroking his cock through his shorts.
“So, what’s my prize, baby?” Ryan questions. His lips, pink and swollen from kissing, brush against yours, eagerly awaiting your reply.
“I thought you wanted a kiss,” you reply. Your hand moves between you and him, twirling with the drawstring off his shorts, contradicting your words.
“I know you didn’t drag me to the bathroom for a kiss,” he mumbles. You were so easy to read when it came to him; you love and hate it.
Instead of giving him a verbal response, you kiss his jaw, and his breath hitches as your lips then press against the column of his throat. Your nose grazes his skin as you continue further down, and you can smell the faint scent of his cologne clinging to him. Who the hell wears cologne to bed?
Your pecks lead from his chest to his abdomen. As you get lower, you purposely press wet kisses on his skin that leave with a loud, exaggerated sound. His abs tense under your lips, and his back digs into the counter. You peer up from your spot on the floor, on your knees, only to find Ryan admiring you already.
“You’re so pretty for me,” he mutters. His hand reaches out to tuck the strands of hair that obscure your face behind your ear.
His compliment and gentle touch add fuel to the fire burning inside you. You shift from your spot on the floor, subtly attempting to alleviate your need. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the cool tiled floor. You focus your gaze ahead, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts.
You tug them low, not enough to free his dick, but low enough to showcase more of the sparse hairs that trail from his belly button down into his shorts. You meet his eyes as you drag your tongue on his skin above the waistband to below his navel. A path of saliva that clings to the coarse hairs, and you can taste the salt on his skin.
“Oh fuck,” Ryan groans. He swears his legs were about to give out, his hands reaching behind him to stablize himself on the sink’s countertop.
His cock throbs within the confines of his shorts. Whatever blood that didn’t rush to his dick settled under his skin, burning warm, and tinting his cheeks faintly pink.
You kiss his cock head through the thin material. It weeps for you to take his length out of his shorts, the front blotted with precum, leaving a dark stain in the black fabric. He’s whining too as you lap at him, only the thin piece of cloth separating you. Low moans escape his parted lips that leave your pussy dripping.
You finally pull his shorts down, exposing his cock to the cool air of the fancy hotel bathroom. You admire his length, standing tall for you. Veins that you’ve memorized with your tongue, trail along his tan shaft to its red, almost purplish tip, which leaked precum. Your eyes flicker from his flushed head to his gaze, your lips merely inches apart from his leaking tip.
It wouldn’t be the first time you both snuck out to do something like this. It’s a miracle no one has caught you two yet. Ryan peers down at you in anticipation. His biceps flex as his grip tightens on the marble surface.
Your hand wraps around him, and your tongue flattens on the head of his cock, savouring the taste of him oozing precum—bitter yet so addicting. You’ve been yearning for a taste of him, literally or not; you’re in heaven. You move to the underside of his cock, the veins along him throbbing on your tongue. You’ve made it a point to hold his gaze the entire time, eyes lidded as you pepper sloppy kisses along his length.
Ryan can barely reciprocate the eye contact, his eyes squeezing shut from the pleasure. A loud groan escapes him as you wrap your lips around his tip. Your tongue nudges at his frenulum, and he lets out a higher-pitched whine than he meant to. All the sounds he accidentally slips while trying to maintain composure go straight to your sopping cunt. You’ve soaked through your underwear at this point, and arousal seeps through onto your sleep shorts.
He’s barely even touched you, only a brief kiss and some groping, yet you’re slipping your free hand between your thighs, failing to ease the ache as you rub your clit through your clothes. Your movement is messy and uncoordinated—a half-hearted attempt to stop the overbearing need pooling in your belly.
His lashes flutter open, and you lock eyes again. You know how debauched you look, on your knees, touching yourself while slurping on his dick like he’s your favourite flavour.
“You’re such a slut for me,” Ryan groans. His hand moves to hold the back of your head gently, and you swear he’s petting your hair. “Fuuuck, baby, you look so dumb when you touch yourself while sucking me off. My pretty slut’s gettin’ drunk off my cock.”
You moan around him, and he bites back a groan of his own. Ryan’s voice was dripping with condescension and pure lust. It makes you even wetter, but you’re not even playing with your sensitive nub anymore, too focused on him. Both of your hands shift to grip his bunched-up shorts around his thighs.
Your cheeks are hollow, and your swollen lips stretch around him as you take more of his fat cock deeper. Spit accumulates at the corner of your lips, dripping down your chin as his cock rests heavy on your tongue. His hips rock in shallow thrusts, and a wet gag escapes you as the dull mushroomy tip of his cock nudges at the back of your throat while the hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose.
You’re distracted by the noise outside. The sound of the hotel door opening and the rest of the guys entering, laughing about something, is barely heard from the bathroom, but it’s loud enough for you to be on edge. Hollis calls your name, then questions Roman, “Where are they? I got those nasty ass candy they like.”
“No idea,” Roman replies.
“Shit,” Ryan gasps. Your attention is focused back on him. “We should stop.”
You try to do as he says, pulling away from him, but he urges you to take him further despite his words. His hand buries into your scalp, and the tattoo on Ryan’s arm contorts with his muscles as his other hand, which grips the counter, tightens. You comply because the expression on his face was just as blissful as your own. He gazes down at you with lidded eyes, thick eyebrows drawn together, and plush lips parted as he lets out quiet breaths.
The guys continue to chat, with Nate asking, “Yo, wanna play some Uno?” and Roman responding, “Fuck no.”
But the noise disappears into the background as he fucks your mouth. Your jaw is aching, and your knees are probably going to be bruised after this, but it was all worth it. There was a high possibility that someone might figure out what you and Ryan were up to. You two weren’t exactly discreet. If both of you were missing at the same time, and the bathroom door was locked with strange noises emitting, you wouldn’t fault anyone for jumping to conclusions.
Ryan guides you off him, and thick strands of saliva break as you part from his cock. His length is coated with a layer of sheen from spit.
“Stick your tongue out,” Ryan instructs.
You obey without hesitation, jaw slackening as you stick your tongue out. Your lashes were clumped together from tears, and your parted lips were swollen and glossy.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Ryan whispers. He uses the remnant of saliva on his cock as lube as he strokes his cock. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh?”
“Say ‘ahhh’,” he mocks.
He comes undone with a quiet groan. Thick spurts of cum land on your tongue and on your cheek. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut as the warm fluid continues to spill out of his spent cock. You gasp when he slaps the tip of his softening dick onto your tongue, and your eyes open to meet his gaze once more.
He’s still grinning cockily—it’s like it never left since the night started. He shifts away from you, his cock slipping away from your mouth and back into his shorts. You swallow the cum on your tongue, savouring the taste of him. You wipe off the mess on your face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“Seriously? You had to get that shit all over my clothes?”
You stand up from your spot on the floor with wobbly knees, and you’re face-to-face for the first time in a while. You scoff, “You got it all over my face first.”
You lean forward, trying to steal a kiss from him, but he pulls away. “I’m not kissing you with cum all over your face.”
“You’re so boring,” you pout.
Ryan moves away from the sink, and you take in your appearance in the mirror. You look thoroughly fucked; your hair was dishevelled, your lips swollen, and there was still cum and spit clinging to your skin. You meet Ryan’s gaze in the reflection, and he’s smiling, proud of himself.
You turn the water on, washing your face clean of any sign of bodily fluids. When you’re done, you take one more glance at the mirror, hoping that you look at least somewhat presentable. You can feel Ryan’s eye burning into the side of your face.
Tilting your head, you meet his gaze, and he’s leaning against the sink’s counter.
“What?”
Ryan leans forward and captures your lips with his, tasting himself on your tongue. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. Parting from you, he licks his lips, savouring the taste of you.
“I don’t want the rest of the guys to see you like this.”
