Title: Why Not (The O.C.)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: jfc@freeshell.org
Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Romance, Ryan POV
Spoilers: Missing scene between "The Distance" and "The Way We Were"
Rating: NC-17 for language and m/m sexual interaction
Pairing: Seth/Ryan
Summary: Connection

DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. The O.C. is the property of Josh Schwartz, Dave Bartis, Doug Liman, and McG, Warner Brothers Television, Hypnotic Productions, and the Fox Network. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is part of my as-yet untitled O.C. stories series, which can be found elsewhere on this archive - Enjoy!

DEDICATION: For Tiff, who will tell me that I lied. I did not. I just changed my mind, just in time for her birthday. Happy day!

COPYRIGHT: (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, November 22, 2004, jfc@freeshell.org

Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.



"Um, no."

"C'mon, man--why not?"

I fix Seth with a cold, brutal stare, shot down completely by the absolutely cute way he's making puppy-dog eyes at me. "It's a really bad idea."

"Nobody has to know. We'll go in separately, you first, and then I'll come up and knock on the door, and you can let me in, and we can do stuff..."

"...in the toilet on an airplane traveling at 30,000 feet. I don't think so."

He squirms in the window seat like he has to pee. "It's an hour and a half until we land. We never got to do anything at Luke's house..."

"True, unless you count making out in the guest room and you humping me until you came in your pants," I remind him, hushing my voice to avoid announcing it to everyone sitting over the wing.

At once he is chastened and drops his eyes bashfully. Eventually he resumes speaking. "I really missed you, Ry. I was scared to death that I'd never see you again."

I lace my fingers with his on the armrest. "I'll always be here for you, man. When your dad asked me to talk to you, I had to come find you." Ducking my head to catch his eye, I add very softly, "I'm so sorry I hurt you by leaving. I should have thought it through a little better."

He looks up at me, pinching his lips together as if there's words he dare not say. "Thank you," he says instead of whatever it was.

With a squeeze to his hand, I accept and return his unspoken message. Suddenly his suggestion doesn't sound quite so ridiculous. "I've gotta go to the bathroom..." I murmur, releasing his fingers reluctantly.

"Oh--okay," he agrees, dropping his hand and his gaze back onto the mail order catalogue in his lap. There's a beat, then he glances up at me again, noting that I haven't moved. "Ryan?"

With a long stare into his eyes, I smile very slowly and meaningfully.

"What... OH!" he nearly shouts, comprehending my message at last, with his eyes flying open so large I think they might pop out of his head. Suddenly, he is all elbows and flapping hands. "Then go! Scoot! Shoo!" he bleats like he's chasing chickens with his apron. "I'll be... yeah..." he affirms in an uninformative whisper, nodding and gesturing with his head almost as if he's having a seizure.

Swallowing my chuckle, I excuse myself over the person on the aisle and head back to the facilities, exchanging glances with Seth every few steps, then taking my place in a very short line. Before long, I am next, and look at him again, nodding at his wave of five fingers, followed immediately by a headshake and three, then shaken down to two. I shut the door, take a leak, and wash up.

No more than thirty seconds later, there is a Morse-codelike knock at the door, possibly spelling out "HORNY". Standing as far away from the door as I can, I let Seth in then shut the two of us inside where we jockey for position like polite sardines.

Immediately, he wraps both arms and at least one leg around me and affixes his mouth to mine. We kiss and grope and moan, basically taking up the space of one person, which is a very good thing in this cramped room. As soon as he pulls away to keep from drooling, I indicate the toilet itself. "Need that?"

"Nope," he assures me, reaching down to stroke me through my pants. "Need this."

I kiss him again, then lower the toilet lid and drop my pants before balancing on it bare-assed and hoisting my shirttail out of the way.

The Cohens raised no shy boys, because Seth takes one look at me sitting there clutching my erect cock and bursts into the hugest grin. "Oh, sweet Jesus--yes!" he gasps, shedding his jeans and pulling off his sneakers as fluidly as possible while balancing on one foot at a time. "Whoops--almost forgot," he adds, diving back down after his pants to retrieve his wallet out of his pocket. Thereupon, he fishes out a square mylar envelope and presents it to me. "I used to be a boy scout," he explains, petting his own erection.

The condom is new, revealing that the former boy scout has been getting some. I break it out of its wrapper and slip it on carefully, feeling as gawky as my partner for once. "Is this okay? I mean I know we never have before, but I think this will keep us from hurting ourselves if there's any turbulence..."

"I was hoping there'd be some turbulence..." He pumps some liquid soap from the sink into his hand and lubes his hole with it. "Don't worry. I've wanted this, however we do it."

"Nobody else has...?" I start to ask.

"Nobody but me," he answers, without waiting for the end of the question. "So I've practiced a little."

"Were you really a boy scout?" I inquire as he slicks me with the soap, then straddles me and the toilet.

With slippery fingers, he positions my cock against his opening before lowering himself onto me as carefully as possible. All of the air is somehow leached out of my lungs at the sensation, and I can no longer breathe or speak. "Yessss," he exhales, possibly answering my question at the same time.

Thank God for flexibility, because Seth curls his spine just enough to rub his own cock against my stomach and kiss me deeply as he takes me inside his ass. Once he is settled comfortably in my lap, he pushes up with his toes and starts fucking himself on me. "This doesn't hurt?" I ask as soon as I find my voice.

"Okay--maybe I've practiced a lot," he admits, bobbing gently at first, then gradually a little harder. My hands cup his skinny butt protectively, and I groan with the tension building in my balls. "Screw Summer," he growls incongruously.

"Huh?" I frown stupidly, trying to concentrate on not coming too fast, and finding his imagery quite helpful in that regard.

"Screw Anna. Screw them all. This is what I want..." he declares, bouncing up and down in my lap and jacking himself hard. He tucks his chin into his chest, not watching himself because his eyes are tightly closed. I can feel the clench of his sphincter muscles around my erection as he throws his head back sharply and grimaces, milky fluid pumping out of his fist and onto my belly.

My eyes slam shut and I thrust up from my seat to pour my load into his body. It's hot and twisty and time-stopping and perfect. The noises I utter could indicate misery, but I've never been happier.

A bony arm is flung around my shoulders, hugging me tightly. "Oh, God, Ryan! Oh, God!" Seth exclaims, shaky and ecstatic.

I grab his head in my hands and kiss him for all he's worth, which takes awhile, as he's pretty priceless. Not daring to swear anything out loud, I pour all of my feelings directly into his mouth with my tongue, where he echoes my every vow.

Finally, we break for air, and I press his forehead against mine as I catch my breath. "They're going to need the bathroom soon."

"Yeah," he pants into my face. "Just gimme a second." He grins, kisses me hard once more, then reports, "That should do it."

Since running water is in reach, we clean ourselves off without even standing up, then disengage our joining with as little awkwardness as possible. Seth's tightie-whities are untangled from his jeans and reapplied, followed by his denims and sneakers, though he leaves his laces dangling until we get back to our seats. All of the wastepaper is flushed into the shiny metal receptacle, and we are soon passably respectable.

"So?" he asks, one hand on the door handle.

"Not bad for going from virgin to member of the mile-high club in six minutes," I reply, glancing at my watch.

"Dude, I wasn't a... Oh, right. That way," he corrects himself. "You wait here a couple seconds. Don't want it to look..."

"...like we were doing exactly what we were doing?"

"Yeah." He looks sheepish but his eyes are glistening joyfully. "That was fantastic, Ryan. Thank you."

"Thank you. You know, I hope your folks don't mind if I go right to bed when we get home."

"Why? You sleepy?" I say nothing, but let my eyebrows speak for me. My adoptive father has taught me much. "Ah," he nods, "a bed. How novel..."

"Sure," I shrug. "Why not?"



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