Games We Play

Down the Rabbit Hole

......."You're right, Andy. In fact, I reckon it's only fair you have one of your own to match."

"No, don't –"........

Rye doesn't give him the chance to argue his point. He leaps from his seat, tackling Andy back down onto the bed, his fingers finding Andy's sides, diverting the blonde's attention with rib-biting tickles.

While Andy gasps and squeals, fighting hard to stop the abuse, Rye noses into the side of his neck. He finds the thick, corded muscle just below Andy's ear and latches on, sucking hard and with intent.

Andy squawks again and thrashes, planting his feet into the mattress to leverage Rye off, but Rye is faster, knocking Andy's feet out from under him & straddling his thighs in the process.

He grabs Andy's near wrist and tugging it down, pins it to the mattress at Andy's side. With his other hand, Rye cups the back of Andy's head, forcing it away from his shoulder and opens him up to further attacks.

Beneath him, Andy is gasping for air around a tumbled mess of squeals, curses, and protests.

"You're so noisy," Ryan complains, coming up for a quick breath. He glances down, admiring his handiwork. "That's gorgeous," he says, proud of himself. "Needs a second."

"No! No, no, Rye, please," Andy begs around peals of laughter. "I'm sorry about the bite. I'm sorry, alright?"

"Mmhmm, not good enough." Rye mouths down the length of Andy's exposed neck, his lips finding the soft spot where Andy's heartbeat hammers to the surface. He flattens his tongue against the warm skin, then after a quick, gentle kiss, affixes his mouth to that pulse point and sucks greedily. Around him, the laughter falls away, replaced by their combined shaky breaths.

He feels more than hears Andy gasp; a quiet, strangled noise that sounds vaguely like 'Ryan' as it escapes Andy's lips. It was an encouraging sound, as is the free hand that has snaked its way under Rye's top, biting toothless into his lower back, pulling him closer.

The signal is clear and Rye does as he is asked, rolling his hips tentatively, surprised when the soft groan that comes out is his own.

He leans back, putting his weight on his elbow and looks down, searching Andy's face for answers to questions Rye can't begin to put into words.

Beneath him, Andy looks utterly debauched. His golden locks are a disheveled mess, his eyes, glassy and half-lidded, are likewise roaming over Rye's face, and the beautiful flush Rye had already admired, is now framing a perfect, pink mouth.

As if on cue, Rye watches Andy's tongue ghost across his lower lip, then pull the corner of that same lip in between his flawless white teeth. A move that makes Rye's own mouth go Sahara dry.

"And?" The name is soft on his tongue, a quiet plea, asking for permission.

Andy answers with a subtle nod and meets Rye halfway, their mouths sliding together as if they are made to fit perfectly.

They've kissed before; of course, they have. The band vlog is basically a playground full of half-naked boys exploring their sexuality for the sake of content. And what can one really expect when you lump five, hormonal, barely-out-of-their-teens lads in one room? There was always gonna be fooling around of some sort. But this? They've never kissed like this.

Andy's breath shutters against Rye's lips, his hands grasping, desperately trying to pull them closer together as he dives headlong into the kiss, licking into Rye's mouth.

"Slow down," Rye murmurs between kisses, pushing back, until he is straddled over Andy's thighs.

Andy follows him up, chasing after his lips.

"Fovvs, it's alright," Rye reassures, cupping the other boy's face in his hands. He gently brings their foreheads together and looks into the evening blue of Andy's eyes. "Don't rush."

With Rye in control, he regulates the pace; their kisses becoming languid, taking their time to learn this new facet of one another.

Kissing Andy isn't unlike other kisses Rye has experienced, and yet it's worlds apart. Instead of the soft, feminine curves Rye is accustomed to, the boy in his hands is all sharp angles; the cut of his jaw, the high cheekbones, and the light scratch of day-long stubble against his palms and lips. It's all so alluring.

There is also an easy back and forth for dominance; Andy greedy for more than just a taste and Rye determined to stay in control. Live in the moment, but savor the experience.

As they kiss, Rye feels Andy's hands ghost up his sides, taking his t-shirt with him. His fingers skip lightly over Rye's ribs, sending a flurry of goosebumps down his sides and arms.

Rye isn't a ticklish person by nature, but the warmth of Andy's hands sends currents of desire running down Rye's spine, and he has to fight back the groan in his chest. Instead, he assists.

Reaching over his shoulder, he grabs his top and wrenches it over his head, tossing it to the floor.

"Yours too," he demands, tugging at Andy's clothes. But the hoodie won't come free, its length trapped under Andy's backside.

"Lift your arse," Rye says, scooting back further to make room for him to do as asked, but suddenly Rye runs out of bed.

Andy cries out, scrambling to catch hold of Rye before he falls, but no such luck.

Rye falls from Andy's lap, toppling over the edge of the bed and landing with a heavy thud on the plush rug below.

"Rye, oh my God," Andy giggles, slapping a hand over his mouth to contain the riotous squeal that will likely follow.

"I'm okay!" Rye pops up from the floor, raising his fists in mock-victory.

"And he's up!" Andy cheers, he too throwing his hands into the air.

Righting himself, Rye chugs the short distance across the floor on his knees, "Now, where were we?"

Kneeling at Andy's feet, Rye slides his hands along the tops of Andy's slender thighs, pushing them open to accommodate himself. "Right. You. Top off, now."

Andy swallows thickly and moves quickly to comply, peeling both layers at once and then clutches them to his chest as if they are the last protective barrier between them.

Rye shakes his head and pulls the garments from his hands, discarding them on to the growing pile on the floor. And when Andy's hands instinctively come up to cover himself, Rye takes hold of his wrists and gently pulls them away.

"Don't know why you're trying to hide from me." Rye floats his palm across Andy's collarbone and up the length of his neck, lightly pressing the bruise he'd left before.

Leaning into the touch, Andy's eyes fall closed and his breath rasps across parted lips.

"God, you're beautiful."

AN: Thanks for coming back for Part 5. Hope you enjoyed. Would be ever so grateful if you could drop a vote for this chapter and leave me a note in the comments. Let me know what you like and what you'd like to see if upcoming chapters.