Once upon a time, not too long ago...
Nov. 14th, 2003 01:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archive+Whatever poor schmuck got me for the Obscure Secret Santa, you can pretty much take a page out of what ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bonibaru said regarding hers. If you like it, chances are I will too.
+ Kavalier & Clay junkies (corinna_5 and taraljc): The Escapist is up for pre-sale. *makes noises*
+It hailed enough to look like snow in South LA. Dude, earthquakes, fire and the Terminator. Now this. Need I say more?
+kattiya has hot photos of my sekrit girlfriend. Dude. Dude. Straight who?
Random OC thoughts.
+ Where the hell is Gabby? *sulks* I liked Gabby. Nuts.
+ Who the hell is dressing Anna in these high-necked, ruffly clothes? Ick much?
+ Ryan excited about anything is way cute. And hot. Dude.
The following story seemed like a good idea when it came to me, but uh yeah, there’s no redeeming value here or anything. Just so you know.
Written to makeserialkarma laugh and appease the angry Dark Lord of all things Orange and v v Gay. (Dude, I so didn’t know it was going to go like that.)
The O.C.
Mr. Telephone Man
None of this would’ve happened if Seth’s parents had stopped having sex like everybody else’s parents. Not that Seth knew what other people’s parents were up to, because, no, but the prevailing wisdom was that people stopped having sex when they got married. So if his parents were like everybody’s else’s parents, instead of doing things he was not going to think about, like ever, in the living room, they would be sleeping in their separate Ozzie and Harriett beds.
Because his folks having sex? So not something they needed to have.
Seth was totally a test tube baby, and yeah, okay, he really didn’t ever want to have those thoughts again. Ever.
Instead he focused on the tiny silver Nokia in his hand and erased all thoughts of his parents doing ‘stuff’ from his brain, because that was just wrong, and his dick was becoming afraid. Not that he could blame it.
Settling against his headboard, Seth pressed his hand against his crotch in a protective fashion. Like his life wasn’t hard enough already, or not as hard as the case happened to be. He and his dick had to stick together; they were amigos. Best friends. Correction: they were both *missing* his best friend.
Seth thumbed the little buttons, and blinked when the screen flickered to life in a hideous electric blue. The time was 12:37 a.m. in California. 3:37 a.m. in New York. 8:37 a.m. in London and 5:37 p.m. in Tokyo.
Huh. Whatever.
It was just a phone; it wasn’t going to bite him because he’d commandeered it for his stealth purposes. It wasn’t like the phone could read his nefarious, dirty thoughts.
‘Nefarious’ was a very good word, but perhaps not when referring to himself though. Yeah, Seth wasn’t big with the nefarious action. After all he’d pretty much been forced to liberate his dad’s phone for a while because his parents were *cockblocking* him, and it wasn’t like his dad was going to notice it was missing.
Besides if anybody looked at the ‘numbers dialed’ later, well, dude, it was totally their house, where they lived.
Right.
That reasoning alone should have wiped out the intrinsic wrongness of Seth using his father’s cell phone to call Ryan, but it didn’t. Not quite at any rate. Yes, Ryan was right outside in the guesthouse, but Seth couldn’t actually get there, because of his parents conducting 'date night' in the living room; and he was lonely, and horny, and trapped in his room.
Right.
And yeah, okay, late night babbling was not his original plan, but since he clearly was going to be by himself this evening, it was not a bad thing that he’d left the cordless phone in the guesthouse earlier.
If he counted on his parents being otherwise occupied doing stuff, which he was not going to think ever, then they wouldn’t even try and answer the phone. Which only left him and Ryan.
It all totally made sense. In that Seth way.
So, logically speaking, if Ryan answered and wasn’t actually doing something else, then they could talk. Or stuff. And it wasn’t like Seth didn’t know how a phone worked, and it couldn’t be nearly as hard as he was making it.
That was just his dick wondering why it was being neglected.
Except none of this explained why the line was *ringing*, and Seth couldn’t figure out how the hell to end the call.
Why were the stupid buttons so small?
By the time Ryan picked up it was a bit late to hang up.
“Hello?” Ryan’s voice was gravely, and he sounded sleepy. His hair was probably all mussed and he was probably wearing his boxer-briefs and wifebeater.
Or no shirt at all.
Not that Seth knew for certain, but his imagination was more than happy to fill in the spots. Or remove the spots and various articles of clothing at the same time. Ryan naked and sprawled out on his bed was Seth’s favorite fantasy ever, and why were his parents having sex in their living room when their 17 year-old son needed to get some?
Seth made a strangled noise.
“Hello?” Ryan repeated.
Seth cleared his throat. “Hey.”
There was the sound of somebody snorting. Or possibly smirking. Except smirks didn’t really have a sound. “Hey.”
There was a long pause, where Seth imagined Ryan doing any number of things: stripping, jerking off, watching MTV, climbing the non-existent trelis to Seth room like Peter Parker.
“So,” he began rather spectacularly.
“So.”
“How’s life?”
This time Seth definitely heard a snort.
“Pretty much the same as it was when I saw you two hours ago.”
“Ah.” Seth nodded to himself, banging his head on the wall behind him. He could hear something happening in the background, and he really wanted to know what it was. He really wanted to be in the guesthouse. Why was he calling again?
“You’re *calling* me?” Ryan totally interrupted Seth’s train of thought.
Seth sighed. “Yeah.”
“I live in your guesthouse, have you forgotten? You could just come down.”
Bingo. “I would if I could, but I’m being viciously cockblocked by my parents, because they’re doing *stuff* in the living room. And one, no, and two, not thinking about that, because I’m really not wanting to end up on the couch of some Freud-wannabe, so I’m trapped here. In my room. And it’s very painful. Dude, you have no idea how painful it is.”
Ryan’s laugh released a warm feeling in Seth’s stomach. Or perhaps a little lower. His cock began to recover from all the earlier trauma as he slumped against the headboard of his bed.
He thought about Ryan curled up next to him and laughing at something he’d said.
He could almost feel Ryan’s breath on the side of his face.
“So, um, what are you doing?”
“Nothing much. I fell asleep watching TV.”
“Anything good on? Actually, no, probably not, I mean unless you’re into Kilborn or watching softcore on HBO. Not that I am, was, yeah, not watching porn just so you know. No, totally not watching porn.”
Seth could just imagine Ryan’s arched eyebrow and the twist of his lips. His cock began to show a lot more interest in the proceedings, and he rubbed his crotch distractedly while trying to cradle the tiny phone.
How the hell did anybody conduct a conversation on an instrument the size of his LOTR collectibles?
“Are you sure you’re not watching porn?” Ryan asked. “You seem pretty interested in it.”
“Dude, so not with the porn action,” Seth protested. “Do you hear overdubbed panting in my room right now?” he asked, holding the phone up for several seconds.
“That’s what I thought,” he proclaimed into the silent phone.
There was the sound of something rustling on the other end, and the background noise died out. If Seth had interrupted Ryan watching porn, he was going to die of mortification. Again. It happened at least once a day; he was like Kenny from South Park that way.
There was more rustling and then a stifled yawn; Seth glanced at his alarm clock. It was almost one in the morning. Most people, who weren’t doing illicit things on the living room sofa, or missing the body heat of the guy they sometimes slept with and liked kissing and touching and molesting on a daily and night basis, were sleeping.
Ah.
“Dude, I’m totally keeping you up, I’m sorry like Hugh Grant when he cheated on Liz Hurley,” he apologized. “I just didn’t want you think that I’d bailed or didn’t want to see you, or um, do stuff or whatever, because yeah, shutting up now.”
“Seth,” Ryan began.
“I know, bed, it’s a smart idea. I’m already in it, I just, you know, insomnia. Lonely. Whatever.”
“Are you in the bed or on the bed?”
Seth blinked. “On it. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Ryan’s voice was low and warm.
Seth’s dick jumped to full attention, and he pressed against the bulge it made in his boxers, except it was less of a press and more of a stroke. Huh.
“What are you wearing?”
Seth’s throat seized up temporarily, and he swallowed more than once. “Stuff.”
Seth didn’t have a lot of experience with perverse laughs, but he felt pretty sure that the sound Ryan made fit the bill. “Boxers,” he corrected. “All my other underwear is dirty, like the real dirty as opposed to the kind-of-dirty-but-still-passable, type of dirty.”
“What color?”
“They’re white, with um, The Flash on them. I got them as a joke,” he quickly added.
Ryan made a ‘hmm’ ing noise, and Seth’s hand began shifting from stroking to rubbing. Clearly his dick had strange ideas about what construed sex talk, and that was why he kept lotion next to his bed.
It wasn’t like Ryan could see what he was doing though, so if he got a little extra aid from Jergens, nobody was going to know.
The lotion was cool in Seth’s palm, and he grimaced as he tried to cradle the phone and warm up the lotion. He made a guttural noise when he slipped a slick hand inside his boxers. It was as close to bliss as he was going to get without Ryan’s hand doing the job.
“What, um, what are you wearing?” he asked as his hand stroked along the length of his cock.
“Boxer-briefs. They’re gray.”
This time when Seth made a strangled noise, it was for a good reason. He banged his head against the headboard, again, and completely ignored the pain. Ryan in boxer-briefs was his favorite thing ever, ahead of new issues of JLA, Halle Berry in S&M wear, and spoilers from Ain’t It Cool News.
Once again, Ryan’s voice interrupted Seth’s internal babbling. “What are you doing?”
Seth’s hand froze mid-stroke. “Um.”
“Are you jerking off?”
The noise Seth made defied any sort of explanation.
“Because I think you are. I think you’re laying in your bed, with the blankets kicked off the bed, and you’re jerking yourself off to the sound of my voice.”
Normally the sound of death by mortification didn’t sound quite as strangled.
“At least that’s what I’m doing,” Ryan added.
“You – you’re – now?”
“Yes, now.” A very audible groan made it’s way through the phone and Seth’s cock twitched insistently in his grasp, reminding him of what he was *supposed* to be doing.
He tightened his grip and began jerking off with long, full strokes. He thought about the calluses on Ryan’s hand and swiped his thumb over the head of his cock. “I am, too,” he gritted out. “I – I, fuck, Ryan.”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Dude, what do you think I’m doing? I’m having serious issues.” Seth tried to keep the phone to his ear but he really needed to use another hand. “I need another hand is what I need.”
Even in the middle of phone sex, Seth was cracking jokes. He so needed help.
He felt the familiar pull in his balls and quickened his strokes accordingly.
“You want my hand? Where? On your cock or on your balls? Do you want to suck my fingers and --”
“God, yes,” Seth interrupted, completely forgetting about the phone as it slipped away.
Apparently whatever Ryan was going to say, Seth’s brain couldn’t actually handle. He groaned loudly as he came in his boxers, and it took him several seconds to realize that Ryan’s voice wasn’t whispering dirty thoughts in his ear anymore.
He tried to extract his hand from his boxers at the same time that he scrabbled for the phone.
The first thing he heard was Ryan’s panting, which caused his cock to twitch painfully.
“Fuck, Seth, so close, please.”
Seth had never heard Ryan beg before. When his dick twitched again, he seriously considered trying for round two. “C’mon, Ry, please, for the sake of all parties and dicks involved. I have needs too, and how would I explain breaking my neck by climbing out my window to see you jerking off?”
The sound of Ryan coming was a strange hybrid of laugh and groan.
Seth could just imagine the sweat dotting Ryan’s upper lip; he was really pissed he couldn’t lick it off. As Ryan’s breathing returned to normal, Seth cradled the phone and hopped out of bed long enough to switch underwear and wipe his hands off.
“So, what are you doing now?” Ryan asked eventually.
“Changing clothes, getting in bed, turning off the light, praying for my parents to get a hotel room.”
Seth could imagine the sleepy smile on Ryan’s face. “You don’t pray.”
“There’s first time for everything. You should pray, too.”
“I don’t pray, either.”
“Well, pray for this,” Seth insisted. “The phone sex is good, but I have needs, and tomorrow I’m going to *need* to do this in person.”
Ryan was quiet for a second. “I can pray for that.”
“That’s what I thought.”
-the end-
Notes: I should point out that I have just completely bastardized my youth by naming this vignette after a song by New Edition (Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, Mike and Ralph!), but hey, Bobby Brown’s a crackhead now, and that’s much worse.
bonibaru said regarding hers. If you like it, chances are I will too. + Kavalier & Clay junkies (
corinna_5 and taraljc): The Escapist is up for pre-sale. *makes noises*+It hailed enough to look like snow in South LA. Dude, earthquakes, fire and the Terminator. Now this. Need I say more?
+
kattiya has hot photos of my sekrit girlfriend. Dude. Dude. Straight who?Random OC thoughts.
+ Where the hell is Gabby? *sulks* I liked Gabby. Nuts.
+ Who the hell is dressing Anna in these high-necked, ruffly clothes? Ick much?
+ Ryan excited about anything is way cute. And hot. Dude.
The following story seemed like a good idea when it came to me, but uh yeah, there’s no redeeming value here or anything. Just so you know.
Written to make
serialkarma laugh and appease the angry Dark Lord of all things Orange and v v Gay. (Dude, I so didn’t know it was going to go like that.)The O.C.
Mr. Telephone Man
None of this would’ve happened if Seth’s parents had stopped having sex like everybody else’s parents. Not that Seth knew what other people’s parents were up to, because, no, but the prevailing wisdom was that people stopped having sex when they got married. So if his parents were like everybody’s else’s parents, instead of doing things he was not going to think about, like ever, in the living room, they would be sleeping in their separate Ozzie and Harriett beds.
Because his folks having sex? So not something they needed to have.
Seth was totally a test tube baby, and yeah, okay, he really didn’t ever want to have those thoughts again. Ever.
Instead he focused on the tiny silver Nokia in his hand and erased all thoughts of his parents doing ‘stuff’ from his brain, because that was just wrong, and his dick was becoming afraid. Not that he could blame it.
Settling against his headboard, Seth pressed his hand against his crotch in a protective fashion. Like his life wasn’t hard enough already, or not as hard as the case happened to be. He and his dick had to stick together; they were amigos. Best friends. Correction: they were both *missing* his best friend.
Seth thumbed the little buttons, and blinked when the screen flickered to life in a hideous electric blue. The time was 12:37 a.m. in California. 3:37 a.m. in New York. 8:37 a.m. in London and 5:37 p.m. in Tokyo.
Huh. Whatever.
It was just a phone; it wasn’t going to bite him because he’d commandeered it for his stealth purposes. It wasn’t like the phone could read his nefarious, dirty thoughts.
‘Nefarious’ was a very good word, but perhaps not when referring to himself though. Yeah, Seth wasn’t big with the nefarious action. After all he’d pretty much been forced to liberate his dad’s phone for a while because his parents were *cockblocking* him, and it wasn’t like his dad was going to notice it was missing.
Besides if anybody looked at the ‘numbers dialed’ later, well, dude, it was totally their house, where they lived.
Right.
That reasoning alone should have wiped out the intrinsic wrongness of Seth using his father’s cell phone to call Ryan, but it didn’t. Not quite at any rate. Yes, Ryan was right outside in the guesthouse, but Seth couldn’t actually get there, because of his parents conducting 'date night' in the living room; and he was lonely, and horny, and trapped in his room.
Right.
And yeah, okay, late night babbling was not his original plan, but since he clearly was going to be by himself this evening, it was not a bad thing that he’d left the cordless phone in the guesthouse earlier.
If he counted on his parents being otherwise occupied doing stuff, which he was not going to think ever, then they wouldn’t even try and answer the phone. Which only left him and Ryan.
It all totally made sense. In that Seth way.
So, logically speaking, if Ryan answered and wasn’t actually doing something else, then they could talk. Or stuff. And it wasn’t like Seth didn’t know how a phone worked, and it couldn’t be nearly as hard as he was making it.
That was just his dick wondering why it was being neglected.
Except none of this explained why the line was *ringing*, and Seth couldn’t figure out how the hell to end the call.
Why were the stupid buttons so small?
By the time Ryan picked up it was a bit late to hang up.
“Hello?” Ryan’s voice was gravely, and he sounded sleepy. His hair was probably all mussed and he was probably wearing his boxer-briefs and wifebeater.
Or no shirt at all.
Not that Seth knew for certain, but his imagination was more than happy to fill in the spots. Or remove the spots and various articles of clothing at the same time. Ryan naked and sprawled out on his bed was Seth’s favorite fantasy ever, and why were his parents having sex in their living room when their 17 year-old son needed to get some?
Seth made a strangled noise.
“Hello?” Ryan repeated.
Seth cleared his throat. “Hey.”
There was the sound of somebody snorting. Or possibly smirking. Except smirks didn’t really have a sound. “Hey.”
There was a long pause, where Seth imagined Ryan doing any number of things: stripping, jerking off, watching MTV, climbing the non-existent trelis to Seth room like Peter Parker.
“So,” he began rather spectacularly.
“So.”
“How’s life?”
This time Seth definitely heard a snort.
“Pretty much the same as it was when I saw you two hours ago.”
“Ah.” Seth nodded to himself, banging his head on the wall behind him. He could hear something happening in the background, and he really wanted to know what it was. He really wanted to be in the guesthouse. Why was he calling again?
“You’re *calling* me?” Ryan totally interrupted Seth’s train of thought.
Seth sighed. “Yeah.”
“I live in your guesthouse, have you forgotten? You could just come down.”
Bingo. “I would if I could, but I’m being viciously cockblocked by my parents, because they’re doing *stuff* in the living room. And one, no, and two, not thinking about that, because I’m really not wanting to end up on the couch of some Freud-wannabe, so I’m trapped here. In my room. And it’s very painful. Dude, you have no idea how painful it is.”
Ryan’s laugh released a warm feeling in Seth’s stomach. Or perhaps a little lower. His cock began to recover from all the earlier trauma as he slumped against the headboard of his bed.
He thought about Ryan curled up next to him and laughing at something he’d said.
He could almost feel Ryan’s breath on the side of his face.
“So, um, what are you doing?”
“Nothing much. I fell asleep watching TV.”
“Anything good on? Actually, no, probably not, I mean unless you’re into Kilborn or watching softcore on HBO. Not that I am, was, yeah, not watching porn just so you know. No, totally not watching porn.”
Seth could just imagine Ryan’s arched eyebrow and the twist of his lips. His cock began to show a lot more interest in the proceedings, and he rubbed his crotch distractedly while trying to cradle the tiny phone.
How the hell did anybody conduct a conversation on an instrument the size of his LOTR collectibles?
“Are you sure you’re not watching porn?” Ryan asked. “You seem pretty interested in it.”
“Dude, so not with the porn action,” Seth protested. “Do you hear overdubbed panting in my room right now?” he asked, holding the phone up for several seconds.
“That’s what I thought,” he proclaimed into the silent phone.
There was the sound of something rustling on the other end, and the background noise died out. If Seth had interrupted Ryan watching porn, he was going to die of mortification. Again. It happened at least once a day; he was like Kenny from South Park that way.
There was more rustling and then a stifled yawn; Seth glanced at his alarm clock. It was almost one in the morning. Most people, who weren’t doing illicit things on the living room sofa, or missing the body heat of the guy they sometimes slept with and liked kissing and touching and molesting on a daily and night basis, were sleeping.
Ah.
“Dude, I’m totally keeping you up, I’m sorry like Hugh Grant when he cheated on Liz Hurley,” he apologized. “I just didn’t want you think that I’d bailed or didn’t want to see you, or um, do stuff or whatever, because yeah, shutting up now.”
“Seth,” Ryan began.
“I know, bed, it’s a smart idea. I’m already in it, I just, you know, insomnia. Lonely. Whatever.”
“Are you in the bed or on the bed?”
Seth blinked. “On it. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Ryan’s voice was low and warm.
Seth’s dick jumped to full attention, and he pressed against the bulge it made in his boxers, except it was less of a press and more of a stroke. Huh.
“What are you wearing?”
Seth’s throat seized up temporarily, and he swallowed more than once. “Stuff.”
Seth didn’t have a lot of experience with perverse laughs, but he felt pretty sure that the sound Ryan made fit the bill. “Boxers,” he corrected. “All my other underwear is dirty, like the real dirty as opposed to the kind-of-dirty-but-still-passable, type of dirty.”
“What color?”
“They’re white, with um, The Flash on them. I got them as a joke,” he quickly added.
Ryan made a ‘hmm’ ing noise, and Seth’s hand began shifting from stroking to rubbing. Clearly his dick had strange ideas about what construed sex talk, and that was why he kept lotion next to his bed.
It wasn’t like Ryan could see what he was doing though, so if he got a little extra aid from Jergens, nobody was going to know.
The lotion was cool in Seth’s palm, and he grimaced as he tried to cradle the phone and warm up the lotion. He made a guttural noise when he slipped a slick hand inside his boxers. It was as close to bliss as he was going to get without Ryan’s hand doing the job.
“What, um, what are you wearing?” he asked as his hand stroked along the length of his cock.
“Boxer-briefs. They’re gray.”
This time when Seth made a strangled noise, it was for a good reason. He banged his head against the headboard, again, and completely ignored the pain. Ryan in boxer-briefs was his favorite thing ever, ahead of new issues of JLA, Halle Berry in S&M wear, and spoilers from Ain’t It Cool News.
Once again, Ryan’s voice interrupted Seth’s internal babbling. “What are you doing?”
Seth’s hand froze mid-stroke. “Um.”
“Are you jerking off?”
The noise Seth made defied any sort of explanation.
“Because I think you are. I think you’re laying in your bed, with the blankets kicked off the bed, and you’re jerking yourself off to the sound of my voice.”
Normally the sound of death by mortification didn’t sound quite as strangled.
“At least that’s what I’m doing,” Ryan added.
“You – you’re – now?”
“Yes, now.” A very audible groan made it’s way through the phone and Seth’s cock twitched insistently in his grasp, reminding him of what he was *supposed* to be doing.
He tightened his grip and began jerking off with long, full strokes. He thought about the calluses on Ryan’s hand and swiped his thumb over the head of his cock. “I am, too,” he gritted out. “I – I, fuck, Ryan.”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Dude, what do you think I’m doing? I’m having serious issues.” Seth tried to keep the phone to his ear but he really needed to use another hand. “I need another hand is what I need.”
Even in the middle of phone sex, Seth was cracking jokes. He so needed help.
He felt the familiar pull in his balls and quickened his strokes accordingly.
“You want my hand? Where? On your cock or on your balls? Do you want to suck my fingers and --”
“God, yes,” Seth interrupted, completely forgetting about the phone as it slipped away.
Apparently whatever Ryan was going to say, Seth’s brain couldn’t actually handle. He groaned loudly as he came in his boxers, and it took him several seconds to realize that Ryan’s voice wasn’t whispering dirty thoughts in his ear anymore.
He tried to extract his hand from his boxers at the same time that he scrabbled for the phone.
The first thing he heard was Ryan’s panting, which caused his cock to twitch painfully.
“Fuck, Seth, so close, please.”
Seth had never heard Ryan beg before. When his dick twitched again, he seriously considered trying for round two. “C’mon, Ry, please, for the sake of all parties and dicks involved. I have needs too, and how would I explain breaking my neck by climbing out my window to see you jerking off?”
The sound of Ryan coming was a strange hybrid of laugh and groan.
Seth could just imagine the sweat dotting Ryan’s upper lip; he was really pissed he couldn’t lick it off. As Ryan’s breathing returned to normal, Seth cradled the phone and hopped out of bed long enough to switch underwear and wipe his hands off.
“So, what are you doing now?” Ryan asked eventually.
“Changing clothes, getting in bed, turning off the light, praying for my parents to get a hotel room.”
Seth could imagine the sleepy smile on Ryan’s face. “You don’t pray.”
“There’s first time for everything. You should pray, too.”
“I don’t pray, either.”
“Well, pray for this,” Seth insisted. “The phone sex is good, but I have needs, and tomorrow I’m going to *need* to do this in person.”
Ryan was quiet for a second. “I can pray for that.”
“That’s what I thought.”
-the end-
Notes: I should point out that I have just completely bastardized my youth by naming this vignette after a song by New Edition (Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, Mike and Ralph!), but hey, Bobby Brown’s a crackhead now, and that’s much worse.
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no subject
Date: 2003-11-14 04:06 pm (UTC)And like, yo, didn't YOU make some noises about birthday fic for me? Yes, you did. That's okay, because we both suck. But I'm trying to be different and a good person and all that shit. And last year I was trying to write you Lex/Draco and since that's imfuckingpossible do you want something else? Cos I have a ton of homework to do tonight and I need an excuse not to do it.