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A very unexpected movie makeover

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Once upon a time, before Ryan, after a long day of shooting, Sam would have found a million things to do before heading back to whatever hotel or rental was serving as a place to lay his head. Now though, since Ryan, he rarely ever goes anywhere else. Not that they don't go out together. Not that he doesn't meet Ryan elsewhere. But it's always home to Ryan. And he's happier than he's ever been. Even with the less-than-stellar rental they've been provided this time.

"Hey, you home?" he calls out, dropping his bag inside the door. He knows Ryan hates the kitchen here. It's small, badly equipped, lacking in both form and function, so chances are, they'll just go right back out again.

"Yeah," Ryan calls back, shutting down his laptop. "Are you starving? I bought some groceries, but mostly just breakfast stuff and some sandwich fixings. I scouted around today, though, and there's a place down the street looks decent," he says, pitching his voice to carry as he swings by the kitchen to grab a beer for Sam. "They've got some kind of special-recipe barbecue ribs and then chicken-fried steak. I rang them to ask what that is, and the girl gave me attitude like it was a completely stupid question," he continues, popping the cap from the cold bottle and stepping into the shadowed hallway. "She said it's just what it sounds like. And-- Oh my god." Ryan's eyes widen as the dimly-lit form of his lover finally comes into better focus. And he actually takes an involuntary step back, coming up hard against the wall. "Sam. What did they do to you?"

"What?" Sam grins, running a hand over his clean-shaven head. "You don't like it?"

"It's... startling," Ryan offers, still trying to absorb the sight in front of him. Bald head. And a goatee. Either alone would be... But together, they're... "You look..." No, he still can't find the words, but at least he closes the distance between them and strokes a fingertip along the smooth line of Sam's skull. "Did you know they were going to do this?"

Sam shakes his head. "I knew they were doing something with the facial hair, but I didn't have a clue about them fucking shaving my head." He shrugs though. "It'll grow back."

"Yeah, it will," Ryan agrees, and hopes that he has covered well for his initial horrified reaction. "And until then," he grins, now smoothing his palm over Sam's scalp, "I'll be taller than you."

Sam laughs. "Is it really that bad?" he asks Ryan, still mindful of his lover's first response, the look on his face, the way he'd stepped back. Away from Sam.

"No, love, of course not," Ryan says, wrapping his arms around Sam and nuzzling his throat, inhaling his familiar scent and absorbing his lover into his blood. "I was just shocked for a moment, that's all. You know in three days I'll have some wicked fantasy cooked up so we can take advantage of your new look." Like, um. Thug life. Gangbanger. Shooting up a liquor store? Fuck.

Sam's still not convinced but he's not going to push it. "You still want to go out?" he asks. "We can order in," he offers.

"Nah, let's go out," Ryan says, easing back with a lick at Sam's lips. "Your day was good, you feel all right?"

Sam nods. "Yeah. It looks like it'll be a fun shoot," he says, finally relaxing a bit more, his hands sliding down Ryan's back to his ass.

"Ah-nold, and the new Ah-nold?" Ryan teases, thinking of when Schwarzenegger declared to the press that Sam would be his heir in the film industry. He curls one hand loosely around Sam's neck, thinking that those hands on his ass feel awfully nice. Promising. "Ribs sound good?"

"Ribs sound fantastic," Sam says, eyes sparkling, but he doesn't make any move to disengage, instead kissing Ryan, tongue dipping into his mouth, hands cupping and hiking higher now, his own cock responding eagerly to his boy's closeness.

Ryan moans softly into the kiss, beginning in an instant to melt into his lover. He's all but forgotten the beer he fetched for Sam, and he just manages to bend and set it down before he leans back against the wall, dragging Sam in to cover him.

"Fuck, I could eat you for dinner," Sam murmurs, running his mouth over the side of Ryan's throat, the words smeared against his skin.

Chuckling under his breath, Ryan clutches at Sam. "Have I ever mentioned how much I love that about you?" he whispers. "You always come home to me hungry." Not only does it match his own feelings, but also it makes him feel so damn good.

Sam grins at that. Pulls back a little so he can see Ryan's face then slides to his knees, his hands at his boy's zipper already.

"Whoa," Ryan blurts out, startled. Not trying to discourage Sam at all, though -- fuck no, not that. "Sir?"

"Yeah?" Sam glances upward, slowly drawing down Ryan's zipper. "You want me to stop?"

Ryan stares down. "No...?" he murmurs in response, then replays his answer in his head, and decides it's definitely inaccurate. "No," he says again, his voice much firmer this time.

"Good, because I don't want to stop," Sam tells Ryan, nosing his cock free from his shorts.

Oh, god. Ryan moans softly and lets his head drop back against the wall. He rests his hand lightly on Sam's head, surprised all over again by the lack of hair but determined to ignore the absence. "Please."

Sam just grins and licks into Ryan's shorts, getting his tongue on his balls, his cock pushed to one side.

Ryan moans again, louder this time. "Oh god, Sam," he mutters, feeling a pulse of precome bead up on the head of his cock. Sam is right there, fuck, such a damn fucking tease. Just like always. But god he feels so good.

Sam licks deeper, sucking Ryan's balls into his mouth, tongue flicking over and around them, his own cock hard and aching already.

Okay, now the baldness is proving to be goddamn frustrating. Because what the fuck is Ryan supposed to pull on, Sam's ears? Shit. "Please," he begs, in lieu of yanking on anything. And he can't help the needy hitch of his hips, one uneven jerk followed by another. "Ohfuck Sir, please, more!"

Pulling off, Sam leans back, looking up at Ryan then flicks his tongue over the tip of his boy's cock, over his piercing. Capturing that drop of precome welling there with a low groan. "More?"

A helpless cry spills from Ryan's lips at that briefest of teases, and he struggles to hold back on any further response. Licking at the corner of his mouth, he nods down at Sam. "Yes, Sir," he whispers. "Please."

"I want you to count to fifty," Sam says with another flick of his tongue. "Out loud. When you get there, I'll pull off..." he grins, "and you're to come on my face."

More than two years with Sam... Ryan shouldn't be surprised by anything anymore, right? Yeah, right. "Y-- yes, Sir," he answers, hearing his voice shake. Sam's mouth on his cock, and that goal in his head, and Ryan's actually supposed to muster up enough self-control to last out nearly a whole minute? FUCK!!! "One..." he whispers, staring at his lover. "Two..."

Sam swallows Ryan down, taking him deep and then deeper as quickly as he can manage, head bobbing as he fucks his throat on his boy's cock.

"Shit!" It messes up Ryan's count, of course it fucking does, but when Sam fucking inhales him like that, it's a miracle that he even stays on his feet. "Eleven?" he guesses feebly, black spots spreading like spills of ink in his vision. "Twelve."

Grinning around his mouthful, Sam redoubles his efforts, head bobbing faster as he pushes every fucking button he can.

"Thirty-six," Ryan gasps, and now he's sort of massaging Sam's bald scalp with his fingertips, simply needing to maintain contact with his lover somehow. "Ohmygod thirty-seven." He tightens the muscles of his ass, mad thrills rushing through his body like electric shocks. "Oh fuck, Sam. Forty. So fucking good," he whispers, drowning in sensation. So close.

Sliding his hands up the backs of Ryan's thighs, Sam grabs his ass through his jeans, inhaling him still deeper, nose pressed so tight to his groin he can barely sneak breath on each outward movement.

"Forty-nine," Ryan grates out, finding it nearly impossible to keep control of his own breathing. "Fifty..." He lets go his hold so that Sam can pull off, and in instant Ryan's shaking hand closes around his own cock, only so he can aim when his balls release. His semen bursts out in a thick hot stream, painting Sam's cheek, his nose, chin, the other cheek, and Ryan groans like a dying man while he watches his seed drip down his lover's skin.

Tongue flicking out to capture a drop rolling down his lip, Sam grins up at Ryan. "You like this?"

JesusFuckYes. "Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, still shaky as all hell. He doesn't know what the fuck Sam wants from him right now, doesn't know if this is a bad time to be calling him 'Sir' altogether. But damn. "Sir?" he asks hesitantly, "what...?" He licks his lips. "May I... you?"

Sam nods. "Go ahead, boy."

Another shuddery inhalation, like Ryan's trying to force some sort of presence of mind back into himself. He kicks his shorts all the way off, and sheds his shirt as well. Then he turns his back on Sam and braces his hands against the wall, angling his hips back and presenting his bare ass.

Sam smiles to himself. It's not often he misreads Ryan. Had thought his boy was going to lick him clean. But this, this is better. He rocks to his feet, his clothes discarded with Ryan's, his shirt used to wipe his face first. And then he splays his hands over Ryan's, nipping at the nape of his neck as he rubs his cock into his crack, the head nudging at his slicked hole.

Ryan groans, feeling like his bones might just liquefy out from under him. "Yes," he whispers, struggling not to wriggle because he doesn't want to make it more difficult for Sam to line up without use of his hands. Just-- "God, that feels so good. Please."

"Please what? This?" Sam breathes, hitching his hips just right, the crown popping through that first tight ring of muscle.

Another cry grinds through Ryan's teeth. "Yes-- yes, Sir," he gasps, his hole clutching at Sam's cock, automatically trying to draw him in. "Fuck, please, Sir. Fuck me!"

Snapping his hips once, twice and again, Sam forces himself deep and then deeper, groaning loudly as he bottoms out, every last fraction of an inch inside his boy.

Ryan yelps with the pain of full penetration, even as he craves something deeper, darker. His chest heaves, and he works to move one of his hands and link his fingers with Sam's, intensifying the contact between them.

Sam drives in, slowly but steadily, every movement a full thrust, his cock drawn out to the tip and slammed back in, his mouth on Ryan's skin, on his throat, on that juncture at the curve, teeth worrying the skin.

Gasping, Ryan tilts his head to bare even more flesh for his lover. "Yes," he whispers, his cock swelling again twice as fast as it normally would in response to the brutality of Sam's mouth. "Please, Sir," he begs. "Please hurt your boy more."

"You want to bleed for me, boy?" Sam breathes, licking over the same patch of skin.

Something dark twists hard in Ryan's gut, rocking him to his core. "Please," he begs softly, thinking that it's been too long. "Yes, Sir. Please."

Sam slows down his thrusts, keeping them deep but longer, slower, as he bites a path along Ryan's shoulder, teeth sinking into skin, harder and harder, craving what lies beneath.

Ryan moves his hips on auto-pilot now, impaling himself again and again on his sir's cock. It's a glorious counterpoint to Sam's wicked mouth and he whimpers, wriggling slightly. Desperate for more.

Sam holds back as long as he can, his teeth aching, body flushing through with the purest pleasure as he bites still harder, finally breaking through the skin, the burst of copper on his tongue making him growl.

Wordlessly Ryan yells, and tears spring to his eyes in an instant. It's a good job that he already came once, and explosively at that, because the scent on the air of blood and sex combined damn near drives him mad. He bucks furiously back against Sam, begging with his body.

"You want to come for me, boy?" Sam breathes, getting his mouth on Ryan's, their tongues tangling, Ryan's blood on them both.

Nodding, Ryan inadvertently breaks the kiss then swiftly cranes his neck to get his mouth back on Sam's, their lips so fucking slippery. "Please," he gasps, reaching back to grasp Sam's ass and hold him tight. "Fuck yes, please, Sir!"

"Do it," Sam demands, driving in hard and dropping his head to Ryan's shoulder again, his mouth hot and demanding, licking and sucking at the wound there, so close he knows all it will take is the clench of his boy's body.

One suck of Sam's mouth and Ryan is gone. He explodes into his climax, spraying hot against the wall like he's gone without for endless months, his breath heaving and heart pounding while his own shouts ring in his ears.

Sam growls into the bite, his orgasm slamming into him on top of Ryan's, his cock pulsing hot and thick inside his boy. Owning him. Completely.

Sweaty. Panting. Dazed and slumping against the wall and Ryan has no idea how long they've been like this. He thinks he's half-delirious anyway. "Oh my god."

"Mm-hm." Sam nods his agreement, licking the blood from his lips. "You know, it's been a long, long time since I've cut you."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan agrees, his eyelids still too heavy to drag open. If they were lying down right now, he'd probably be asleep. "Miss that."

"I'll have to make it up to you," Sam says, making a mental note to do just that - and soon. "Still want to go out for ribs? Or do you want me to order in? After I clean up this up, of course," he adds with a gentle press of lips to the bite on Ryan's shoulder.

"Hmm?" The kiss stings, jerking Ryan back to the present for a moment. He looks at his lover, and slowly smiles. "Hey," he whispers, feeling like he's floating somewhere near the ceiling. "Um. Yeah, ribs."

Sam grins at Ryan and gives him another kiss, this one on the lips as he gently eases out. "Shoulder first. Then ribs."

"Mmmf." Ryan clutches at the wall like he can somehow hold himself up that way, his mind still moving on a slow loop. "Yes, Sir."

"C'mon," Sam says, getting Ryan turned around, his arm wrapped around his lover's waist. He walks him down the hall to the bedroom and sits him on the bed while he fetches the small first aid kit they always carry with them.

Slouching on the bed, Ryan tries to stay awake. Sam mentioned something about food, but Ryan doesn't feel particularly hungry. He knows he's not the point, though; if Sam is hungry (which surely he must be), then it is Ryan's obligation to see that Sam is fed and fed well. And there will be time for slipping into oblivion later, when the scent of blood is not so strong on the air, when he doesn't feel so wondrously at peace.

Taking one look at Ryan as he comes back, Sam knows they're not going anywhere. "I'll order in a pizza," he tells him, cleaning the wound. "You can sleep and eat something later."

"Hmm?" Ryan looks at him blearily, but he's already falling backwards and twisting the blankets around him, mindless of Sam's attempts with the antiseptic. "But you're hungry."

"Which is why I'll order a pizza," Sam tells him, chuckling to himself as he follows Ryan in his movements, getting the bite cleaned and covered with gauze and tape.

"Okay." Ryan yawns, barely even feeling Sam's touch as he works. He's most of the way asleep when he murmurs out of the blue, "You know, we've got a real skinhead problem in Sydney. A lot of violence. Assaults, gang rapes, attacking minorities..." It's the kind of thing that would never pass his lips were he actually cognizant. Not with Sam looking like this.

Stretching out beside Ryan, the first aid kit set moved to the nightstand, Sam rests his head on his hand and looks down at his lover. "What made you think of that?" he asks, although he has a pretty damn good idea.

"Mmm?" Sam's words seem to be coming from miles away, and Ryan can't make heads or tails of them. He reaches out for his lover and cuddles in close.

"Never mind." Sam sighs and tugs Ryan in even closer, pulling the blankets around them. "Love you," he murmurs. Luckily his hair grows out fast and they're only shooting for six weeks.