i like that in every ship which includes fahc ryan the other or other ones in the ship just loves to listen to him humming or quietly singing while in the shower like it’s their favorite thing in the world
Summary: Ryan is still looking for a solution to his wet dreams about Meg. He makes a discovery on the way and has a meet cute.
Read here on Ao3 or here on Patreon. Part 1, part 2, tag.
***
Meg didn’t follow up on his invitation to hang out, and Ryan took it as the rejection it was clearly meant as.
Meanwhile his dreams didn’t get the memo. He kept dreaming of Meg, in ever more vivid detail. They were especially strong on days he ran into her in the hallway or on the stairs, making him lean towards the theory that she had some sort of pheromones. He was relatively sure she wasn’t a siren, at least - he tied one hand to his headboard one night, to make sure she wasn’t luring him to sleepwalk towards the nearest body of water.
She wasn’t.
Sirens were known to drown people, particularly men, by tempting them with forbidden knowledge. They didn’t always use sex as the forbidden fruit, though it was the one temptation foremost in the public conscience in regards to sirens. Easy, too, in a culture so obsessed with who was and who wasn’t having sex, despite the large taboo placed on talking about it.
So she wasn’t actively luring him into a trap (and Ryan felt a twinge of guilt for even assuming that, just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants in his dreams. It wasn’t Meg’s fault.) Geoff had suggested nymphs as an alternative, which lead Ryan to his pheromone theory.
At least he was relatively sure it wasn’t Geoff’s theory that Ryan just needed to get laid.
Water was still a recurring theme in his dreams ever since he looked into nymphs and sirens. Ever since he dreamt of Meg drowning him, and then she didn’t. He thought that was when it started, at least. He couldn’t quite remember all his dreams, the nights blending together. The one constant was waking up either after coming in his pyjama pants, or with rock-hard morning wood.
His laundry was piling up, and he’d given up on washing his sheets after every night.
No matter how hard he tried to stop the dreams, they kept on coming. Even when he was aware that he was dreaming, something about Meg kept pulling him back in, made him forget his resolution to dream of something else for once. He tried staying up beyond his usual bedtime, hoping if he was too tired, he might escape a night without dreaming anything.
The sun is hot on his neck, the sand hot under his bare feet. The beach stretches out in front of him, the distant crashing of waves the only sound. She’s lying on a towel in a purple bikini, arms crossed under her head. It’s not until he’s straddling her that his shadow falls over her form.
It’s a sign he’s dreaming, he realizes. It doesn’t seem important at the moment, though.
She pushes her sunglasses up and smiles at him, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back. His hands skim over her sides, thumb coming to rest on the little purple bow holding her bikini bottoms together.
‘Hi there.’ She wraps her arms around his shoulders, and he hovers over her, propped on his elbows, legs entangled. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘Have you know,’ Ryan murmurs even as he leans in, lips brushing over hers, and then they are kissing, rocking forward and back as if moved by the waves. They lose time just moving together, his mind slowly blanking out, as if drifting off. Meg’s hand on his cheek pulls him back, her voice in his ear as she chuckles.
“Stay with me now,” she says, winking at him over her shoulder. She’s lying on her stomach now, Ryan straddling her thighs. ‘I need you to get my back.’
‘Sure.’ Ryan spreads the lotion across his palms and starts with her neck, her red hair pulled up into a messy bun. He massages her shoulders, rubs the cream into her arms while she hums contentedly under him, skin warmed by the sun. His hands slide down her back, stopping short of where her bikini top is tied into a neat bow.
‘You can unwrap your present, you know,’ Meg tells him conspiratorially, her grin sly.
Ryan pulls on the free ends, and the bow falls apart under his touch, cloth pooling to either side, leaving her back free. His hands move without conscious thought, exploring the skin, even as he leans in, brushing a kiss to her shoulder. Meg moans under him, rubbing her behind against his erection. With barely a thought, he pulls on the tiny bows on her bikini bottoms, and they unravel, the last barrier between them dropping away.
Her cheeks are slick with sunscreen and he drags his hands over them, kneading the firm mounds between his fingers. Then he pulls them apart, his dick sliding between them easily.
She is warm and wet and perfect under him, and Ryan presses his chest to her back, pinning her down as he fucks her into the sand, her quiet moans swallowed by the crashing of waves lapping at their feet. His hands wrap around her waist, trail up her stomach until he can cup her breasts, kneading them between his fingers. He thumbs over her nipples and she arches her back, tossing her hair over his shoulder with the motion.
It’s wet and clings to his back and he’s sinking into her from behind, with her sitting in his lap, back pressed to his chest. Her legs are spread to either side of his thighs, her hands propped on his knees, her boobs bopping in his hands from the force of his thrusts.
‘Oh, oh- Ryan!’ she cries, and he buries his face in her neck, muffling his groan as he comes.
Meg keeps riding him, and Ryan remains hard, because this is a dream and he doesn’t want it to be over yet, not really. Her laughter rings in his ears, full of amusement and approval, even as she pants against his throat, pushing him down to lie on the towel as she lifts and sinks back down on his cock. He’s floating, and he gives up control, lets Meg dictate the dream for a bit. On some level he’s aware that those thoughts are penetrating because he’s about to wake up soon, in that in between state of still dreaming but lucid enough for awareness to process.
It still feels like an eternity until he wakes up fully, slowly drifting into consciousness, the feel of Meg clenching around him branded into his mind.
Needless to say, it didn’t help. It only left him more tired come morning.
Work was a slog, a hazy fog. Ryan drank too much diet coke, desperate to stay awake enough to do his job. Thankfully it was a slow day, no IT problems cropping up, leaving him free to focus on the never-ending busy work. There were piles upon piles of old files still waiting to be digitized, and Ryan spent most of his day saving photocopies to the digital archives and tagging them appropriately.
Geoff showed up during his lunch break to drop off the paperwork he’d promised to do a week ago. The demon took one look at Ryan, before stopping in his tracks and cocking his head.
“You look tired.”
“Thanks,” Ryan drawled, rubbing a hand over his face. “You, of course, look fresh as daisies, as always.”
Geoff ignored the dig (demons don’t do anything as harmless as daisies unless they wanted to lure in victims, and Geoff wasn’t that kind of demon. Not anymore.) He dropped the file on top of Ryan’s work pile and hopped up onto the desk, tail toppling an empty can of coke.
“Hey!” Ryan protested, catching the can and tossing it into the trash. He glared up at the demon. “What do you want this time.”
“Well, originally I just wanted to drop these off, hold up my end of the deal,” Geoff explained, holding up the file, blithely ignoring the stink-eye Ryan shot him. “But now I think I should’ve come by earlier to check on you.”
“You’re not my mom,” Ryan muttered, snatching the papers from Geoff’s lax grip and paging through them to check everything was in order and properly signed. “And these are late.”
“Not as late as they could be,” Geoff returned, shrugging unapologetically. His tail swished behind him as he mustered Ryan, cocking his head to his side. “What happened with your siren girlfriend anyway?”
“Not my girlfriend,” Ryan objected immediately, and Geoff’s face broke out into a wide grin, eyes twinkling. Ryan glowered at him. “And not a siren either, so stuff it.”
“Aww, come on, no need to be like that, big guy.” Geoff nudged Ryan’s shoulder with his tail, which zipped out of range immediately afterwards. Ryan’s glower intensified. “Hey, you need to relax more. No wonder you’re tired if you’re all work, work, work.”
“Are you telling me as a friend,” Ryan asked, enunciating carefully. If he flubbed his words now, Geoff would never leave him alone. “Or as a demon?”
Geoff shrugged again. Put on a lackadaisical grin, but the look in his half-lidded eyes was sharp as he watched Ryan closely. “Can’t it be both?”
Ryan groaned, dropping his head in his arms. He heard Geoff shift, push off the table, and fervently hoped he’d leave him to his misery. That hope was dashed when Geoff bumped his hip against Ryan’s shoulder, his tail settling down across his back in a friendly squeeze. Ryan lifted his head just enough to peek up at the demon. The moment Geoff noticed his attention, he levelled Ryan with a serious look.
“You’re sure she’s not a siren?”
Ryan nodded, pushing up enough to prop his elbows on the desk, palm on his cheek. Geoff cleared his throat.
“And you’re certain you don’t just need to get laid?”
Groaning, Ryan collapsed back into his huddle of misery. His voice was muffled by his sleeves, but he knew the demon could hear him anyway. “I don’t know, Geoff. Maybe you’re right, but… it feels. I don’t know. It just feels off. I like to get to know people better before crushing on them, okay? I never went straight to-”
His words trailed off into strangled noises. Geoff patted his head, fingers carding through Ryan’s hair. It was a nice feeling, though the patronizing air was entirely unappreciated.
“Alright, alright. Calm down, buddy.” The hand left his hair, and the tail gave him one last slap before curling away. “How about this? You can come out and meet me and Jack at the bar and grill downtown this Friday. See if anyone catches your attention.”
Ryan really, really didn’t want to. But he also knew Geoff would nag until he agreed, so he gave in with bad grace, muttering under his breath, “Fine.”
Geoff ruffled his hair, hip-checking his shoulder as he pushed off. Ryan glared after him, watching him swagger towards the door. Geoff stopped with a hand on the handle, twisting his upper body to look back at Ryan, tail stilling for once. His expression was serious, and the unholy light in his eyes burned bright.
“Why don’t you check the directory,” he suggested, voice one part concern and two parts mischief. For a police demon, Geoff rather loved encouraging rule breaking. “That way, you’ll know for sure.”
“I don’t know.” Ryan’s glare softened into a considering look. “I shouldn’t-”
“Then don’t,” Geoff said dryly, shooting him a wink before sashaying out of Ryan’s small office.
It was a terrible idea. Ryan was tempted.
He managed to push it off for another half hour of mind-numbing busy work, his fingers slowing more and more and eyes starting to dart to the desktop shortcut. It was just an easy click and a quick search. And if Meg wasn’t listed, then no harm done. And if she was… surely she wouldn’t blame him.
Right?
The supernatural database comprised all beings and creatures within the city, so Ryan filtered by area code and then control-searched for his street. There were three tenants in his building listed, two male sounding names and one Meg Turney. Ryan rolled her surname around in his head, unsure how demons or other supernatural beings chose them. It suited her, he thought.
Ryan hesitated before opening her file. This was a breach of privacy on a level that made him feel queasy, like stones rolling through his stomach. But… Geoff was right. Now that he knew for sure that Meg was supernatural, he could put his worry to rest by checking what kind - or prove his feeling that she was somehow involved correct. Either way, it’d give him a new path forward.
Except the clarification box was empty. There was the checkmark classifying Meg as supernatural, but no species listed.
Under the category for supernatural nature was another entry, one that drew Ryan's attention away from the disturbing lack of information in the former. It was innocuous, pro forma really, because when dealing with the supernatural it was always important to be aware of the people they claimed for their own. It was a simple number, followed by a link to the related case file.
Ryan didn't need to check the legend to know. Number four, living with a domestic, supernatural partner.
The stone in Ryan's stomach sank deeper.
***
Ryan spent the rest of the day in something of a fugue state, like he was sleep-walking with his eyes open and his brain technically online, but set to autopilot. He couldn’t quite remember finishing up at work, or the trek to the bus stop. The bus was filled at rush hour, but Ryan couldn’t really muster much annoyance at having to stand for the entire drive.
Meg was in a relationship.
Meg wasn’t available. No wonder she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to hang out, she probably noticed his crush and decided not to encourage him. He must’ve been painfully obvious, and he couldn’t really blame her. He felt like a creep.
Now if only the dreams would stop.
Somehow he made it back into the apartment building, standing in front of his mailbox. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d checked for mail. He should probably do that. Except he ended up staring at his keyring for who knew how long, wondering why he had so many keys.
“Long day?” a sympathetic sounding voice asked, and Ryan opened his eyes, turning just enough to glance at the man next to him. He stood maybe five feet away, about three mailboxes down the row, key in one hand and two envelopes in the other.
“Yeah.” Ryan cleared his throat, suddenly too aware of how rough he sounded. The man had beautiful, lightly tanned skin and artfully tousled blond hair. Hazel eyes mustered Ryan, had him straighten under that intense gaze, smoothing out his work shirt. Ryan was all too aware of how rumpled he looked, a stark contrast to the purposefully messy, yet sexy appearance the stranger was rocking.
“One of those, innit,” the man said in a commiserating tone, closing his mailbox and locking it. He left the keys sticking to hold out his hand to Ryan. “I’m Gavin. Just moved here recently.”
“Oh, uh. Welcome,” Ryan said, shaking his hand automatically. Then he realized he hadn’t introduced himself in return and felt like melting in embarrassment. “I, uh, I’m Ryan.”
“Ryan. That’s a nice name, Ryan.”
He really hoped his blush wasn’t too obvious, his cheeks burning at the simple compliment. Gavin’s accent fell somewhere between cute and hot, though Ryan was leaning more towards hot as Gavin broke out into a sly grin.
“Ryan, don’t blame the mail, Ryan. It’s not its fault it’s probably all spam. Or maybe bills, it’s bills, innit.”
That startled a laugh out of Ryan, and the grin widened, equal parts smug and proud. It reminded Ryan of a cat that got the cream, and the thought made his breath catch. Was Gavin flirting with him?
“Guess I’ll have to burn it then, instead of feeding it to the shredder,” he offered, his heart beating hard in his chest, hoping the joke would land. At Gavin’s light chuckle, he added, “The ads, not the bills. Though maybe I should burn the bills, too.”
“Be nice, wouldn’t it?” Gavin shot him a wink, finally pulling his keys out and pushing off the row of mailboxes. “Well, I hope the rest of the week will be… nicer to you. Be a shame to hide that smile from the world.”
Ryan ducked his head, the corners of his mouth tugging up, even as his flush spread down his neck and up his ears. Gavin laughed, light and carefree, and the sound shuddered through Ryan. He returned Gavin’s wave, feeling sheepish and invigorated and foolish at the same time.
Back in his flat, Ryan dropped the mail on the counter to deal with later, and absently setting a pot to boil. He’d just make some quick noodles for dinner with package sauce, his exhaustion catching back up with him. Maybe he could catch some shut eye tonight, knowing that not only was Meg way out of his league, she was already spoken for. Might even be married, or mated, or whatever her kind did.
Nothing could chase the soft smile from his face, though.
His thoughts swung from Meg to Gavin as he ate, and as he dropped the dirty dishes into the sink to soak, too tired to start the dishwasher. The way he’d smiled at Ryan, the flirty gleam in his eyes as he joked with him. Ryan felt flustered just remembering it. He’d take a quick shower before bed and do his best to forget Meg and her insistence of showing up in his dreams.
Ryan leaned back against the cold tiles, let the spray wash over him. His hand slid down his chest and he closed his eyes. Maybe, if he jerked himself off beforehand, he wouldn't seek pleasure in his dreams, wouldn't seek her company. His fingers danced over his shaft, which started to show interest in the proceedings.
He could almost imagine that it was her hand on him, could almost hear her giggle as she pressed up against his back, her soft breasts squished between them. Felt her breath on his skin and heard her voice in his ear, 'Why, hello there.'
His breathing hitched and his cock twitch in interest. He dragged the nails of his free hand over his nipples, playful in the way he wished Meg would…
'Let me help you out there,' she murmured, her fingers tightening on his cock as she stroked him to full hardness.
But that didn't make sense, Ryan had to remind himself. Meg wasn't tall enough to hook her chin over his shoulder. He concentrated on the rough callouses of his palm, the bitten short nails on his fingers. Meg's hands were smooth and perfectly manicured and, more importantly, not for his pleasure. She lived with her fiancé, for fuck's sake, just down the hall. She wasn't meant for him and he needed to stop.
What he needed, he thought, was a distraction.
Ryan squinted his eyes shut tight, ignoring the vague feeling of surprise turned offense his subconscious was ascribing the imaginary Meg. He focussed on his hands. Brought, calluses, short nails. As unlike Meg's as he could envision. Male hands, dipping down his stomach, wrapping around his cock.
Like the cute blond with the British accent from the mailboxes. Gavin.
Ryan focussed on that memory, tuning out every reminder of Meg and zooming in on that smile, hazel eyes glittering with amusement. Let himself imagine asking him up, inviting him in for coffee. Pictured him naked, kneeling in front of Ryan in the shower with him. He'd have a smug expression, looking up at Ryan from under long lashes.
'Don't worry, luv,' Gavin would say, laughter in his voice like triumph. 'I'll take good care of you.'
Ryan leaned back against the cold tile, a reminder that Meg didn't stand behind him. He thumbed over the head of his cock, exhaling shakily. The warm water left him wet, slick. It didn't take much for his mind to conjure the image: Gavin's breath hot on his skin, his tongue twisting up and down his length, leaving trails of saliva. His mouth, hot and wet and tight-
Ryan spilled over his fingers with a squeeze, embarrassingly quick. Which was probably why he felt like Gavin was laughing at him. He could almost hear his teasing tone, beyond words or care. A part of him felt guilty for shoving Meg out like that, replacing her, even if it was just his imagination. Ryan shoved those feelings to the furthest corner of his mind, telling himself firmly to stop. She was engaged and wouldn't be happy with him perving on her.
He shut off the shower, quickly rubbing himself dry. He would grab some late night dinner, and then he would sleep.
Most of RT/AH/Funhaus community : Im gonna ship this one with this one but i also ship that one with that one and that one with this one and also this one with that one.
Meg: what do you want to me say, what do you want to talk about?
....
....
Ryan: why didn’t you call..why didn’t you call me? I mean did I not deserve anything, any more explanation then...THAT letter? You couldn’t have called me, you couldn’t have given me some sort of chance to like change your mind.. don’t you think you owe me that?
Meg: I couldn’t
Ryan: you couldn’t? You thought that little of me that you couldn’t of just called me? Why?
Meg: because I couldn’t
Ryan: GIVE ME AN ANSWER. WHY? WHY NOT?
Meg: BECAUSE RYAN, BECAUSE I COULDN’T
Ryan: I WANT AN ANSWER
Meg: BECAUSE JUST HEARING YOUR VOICE, I WOULD HAVE CHANGED MY MIND. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR RYAN? IS THAT WHAT YOU CAME ALL THIS WAY TO HEAR FROM ME? YOU THINK IT WAS TOUGH OUT THERE… AND WHAT, YOU THINK IT WAS EASY FOR ME WITHOUT YOU? YOU THOUGHT THAT EVER SINGLE DAY WASN’T A GODDAMN MARATHON OF MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU? GAV WAS SICK, HE WAS SICK AND HE NEEDED ME. HE NEEDED ME TO HELP HIM, HE NEEDED ME TO HELP HIM WITH MICHAEL, WITH EVERYTHING! I WAS ALONE AND I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING!…. I didn’t plan this, i didn’t know that it was going to happen to me, but it did. but you don’t.. YOU DONT THINK I TRIED, I PICKED UP THE PHONE A THOUSAND TIMES AND TRIED TO CALL YOU! YOU THINK THAT I REALLY WANT TO BE STANDING HERE IN FRONT OF YOU LIKE THIS? I had no choice.
@ganglylimbs you have to continue this scene and then tag @miss-ingno after you did you part I’m coming for both of y’all feelings
Ok, but turnwood immediately came to mind. Especially when you were talking about secret agents so....
Agent Ryan and Agent Meg are from two separate fractions of secret agencies, both trying to bring down a powerful man. So they go to Venice, Italy and while at a party run into each other. One thing leads to another and they end up spending the night together.
And they plan for it to be a one-night stand sort of thing, but they keep running into each other (trying to track down the best way to land their target) and Ryan is funny and charming and Meg is smart and has a sharp tongue and they click instantly. Neither knows the other is from their rival company.
Until the big night, when both end up pulling a gun on the guy
