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Brand and tattoos

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backdated. takes place during mid-May 2013, during the filming of The Keeping Room.

Romania is a beautiful country, and Ryan loves going off on rambles while Sam is shooting. The shopping is difficult, okay, because even when the shopkeepers speak some English, their thick accents combined with Ryan's own make for some serious confusion. But the land is beautiful, and today Ryan is just thrilled to be able to spend Sam's day off coddling his lover.

"I love it when it's like this," he murmurs, pouring a bit more almond-scented oil into his palm, and then continuing his massage of Sam's lower back. "Just after it rains, I mean. The storm blows through and it leaves this... I don't know, I think the light is different. It's got a different quality just after a good thunderstorm."

"Yeah," Sam nods, shifting slightly under Ryan's weight, not because he's uncomfortable but because he loves the way he feels like this, pinned solid against the mattress, his lover's sure hands moving over his skin. "I like the way it makes the water look."

On cue, Ryan lifts his head, turning to the wide picture window which overlooks the lake, down at the bottom of a green-drenched hill. "Yeah," he agrees softly, and returns his attention to what he's doing. He digs his thumb into the muscle right where Sam's back meets the top of his ass.

"Mm." Sam grunts, feeling the tension give. "That feels good," he murmurs, shifting again, this time to ease the pressure on his cock, which is, quite predictably, responding to exactly how good it feels.

Ryan nods, smiling. He massages Sam in silence for long moments, simply enjoying the feeling of his hands on his lover. Savoring the privilege. But eventually he works up the courage to broach a new subject. "I've been thinking," he says quietly, "about when we used to talk about permanent marks. Because, we're married now." To anyone else, it probably sounds like a message in code, but Ryan trusts that Sam will follow his gist.

Sam smiles. "And that's the next step?"

Shrugging a little, in an attempt to conceal how nervous he is, Ryan answers, "Well, yeah, it could be. If you wanted to." He slowly slides his hands up to Sam's shoulders. "If you're still interested in branding me."

"Are you kidding?" Sam glances over his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to Ryan's fingers. "Damn right, I'm interested." And so is his cock, swelling even harder against the sheets below him.

"Yeah?" Excitement and fear rush hot through Ryan's blood. "You don't think it's too soon for another ceremony?"

Sam pushes up onto his forearms, head turned to look at Ryan. "As in too close to our wedding or Alex and Luke's? Either way, they were the only ones at both and I don't think they'd care. This would be the rest of our mates. The ones who know about us anyway."

Ryan smiles shyly, ducking his head. All their kinky mates? It still won't be much of a crowd, but he loves that Sam wants lots of witnesses. "I just meant, in case you wanted to relax and not do anything special for a while. Just us two."

"Well, we could do that too," Sam says, watching Ryan. Reading his body language. "After the branding."

"You're right. I'll need recovery time, won't I?" Ryan asks, slipping off from his perch and lying down next to his lover. "And what about you?" he asks softly, searching Sam's eyes. "Are you going to be in need of some recuperation, too?" In the past, they've said that when Ryan took his sir's brand, then Sam would get a permanent mark as well, for his boy. Ryan wonders if Sam is still in favor of the idea.

"You mean from my tattoo?" Sam says, pulling Ryan in close.

"Yeah," Ryan whispers, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Sam nods. "Yeah. I'll be needing some time too. Unless you've changed your mind about wanting to mark me," he teases.

"Oh, hell no. You're getting a big tattoo of my teeth marks, right on the base of your cock," Ryan answers, laughing in both joy and relief.

"No way. No cock tattoos," Sam protests, even though he knows Ryan's only joking. Mostly. "Hip, shoulder, bicep... no cock, no nipples, no ass..." Ignoring the fact that all his marks have centred on exactly those places.

"Hip, shoulder... I'll consider it." Ryan combs his fingers through Sam's hair, completely unable to stop smiling. "The other question is, what should it be? My initials, or a heart with an arrow through it, or a huge phallic symbol... Maybe you should just go with some classic curvy biker babe." Yeah, right.

"You'd go nuts looking at it," Sam says softly, amused. "But we should keep it simple, something not too hard to cover for work, something just between the two of us." As much as he'd love to have Ryan's initials, hell, his name on him.

"Yeah." Ryan nods. "I know." He brushes his lips over Sam's. "Can I...? If I bring you a few different designs to choose from, would that be okay? Or do you want to find something yourself?"

"For which? Me or you? Or both?" Sam asks, wishing momentarily they could go with the same design but they might as well hang a fucking neon sign up if they did that.

"I was hoping you would choose my brand," Ryan answers softly. Something so intensely personal and symbolic between them -- it would feel so pointless if Ryan chooses it for himself. (All right, painful as all hell, and pointless.) "But, for you I mean. May I maybe help pick something for you?"

"Yeah, of course," Sam says with a smile. "I want it to be your mark, and I was definitely planning on choosing your brand."

Ryan grins, and he can feel his face flush. But it's with pure happiness. "Thank you, Sir," he whispers, caressing his lover's face. He still finds it amazing how Sam just... just gets him.

"Thank you," Sam murmurs, his chest going tight. "You're the one letting me mark you like this. With something you won't ever be able to get rid of."

"Yeah, like you," Ryan adds, a devilish sparkle in his eyes. He brushes a soft kiss over Sam's lips, and then another. "You know you're everything I want, Sam. Forever."

Sam smiles at that. "You know it's going to hurt, right? Make that tattoo on your ass seem like nothing," he murmurs even as he kisses Ryan back, hands roaming over him.

"I know it will. I'm actually pretty scared," Ryan confides between kisses. "I'm sure I'm going to scream and cry in front of everyone." He figures they'll understand, though.

Fuck. Sam's pretty damn sure that shouldn't turn him quite as much as it does, his cock giving a rough throb between them. Completely divorced from his actual feelings on the matter. "Shit. Sorry," he says, ducking his head a little. "I don't actually want to hurt you. Not like that."

Ryan smiles crookedly and smoothes his hand over Sam's shoulder. "But you want me to take that pain for you. I know," he murmurs. "I appreciate the distinction. Because I don't want that degree of pain, but I want it for you."

Sam nods, grateful for his lover's understanding. "I take it you want us to wait until Dan can do it?"

"Yeah. Do you think we should rent out a hall or something at one of the Citadel locations?" Ryan wonders, uncertain whether Cit already has rooms designed and designated specifically for activities like this.

Sam nods. "We'll arrange for something," he assures Ryan, shifting so he's on top of his boy, hips cradled between his thighs. "You just want friends there? Or anyone who knows us at all? Or should we invite everyone in?"

"Um. Just-- just kinky friends, I think," Ryan answers, distracted already by Sam's body and the way it weighs him down. He lifts his knees, making more space for his lover.

"One of these days, I'm going to let each and every one of them have a go at you," Sam whispers, nipping at the curve of Ryan's jaw, giving voice to the fantasy. "I'm going to line them up, let them fuck you, and when they're done, I'll let them have seconds and then thirds - your mouth and your ass - until they can't go any longer and then I'm going to take you to bed and fuck you so hard... claim you again, cause I'm one who owns you. Owns every fucking inch of you, inside and out."

Ryan whimpers softly; god dammit, he just can't help himself. "Sir," he whispers, "please, you. Anything for you, Sir. Please."

Sam reaches between them, fitting cock to hole and slowly pushing in. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe that's what I should do. Let all of them fuck you and then brand you and then I'll fuck you in front of them. Let them see just how much I own you. How much my good boy takes for me."

Moaning under his breath, Ryan opens up even more, easing the way for his lover. "What-- whatever would please you, Sir," he gasps. Shit, when Sam talks to him like this, in that velvet-sex voice of his, it's almost like Ryan can feel his brain cells just disintegrating in droves.

"You mean that, don't you?" Sam breathes, slowly moving deeper, his cock sinking into that tight heat. Fuck. "You'd do anything I wanted. Anything I asked." Ordered.

Ryan's eyes are wide on his sir's face. "I..." He can't make a joke about this, and particularly not during a moment like this, when Sam has already burned through all of his filters. "I'd... be really fucking terrified if you wanted me to get fucked by a horse," he whispers, staring. "Just because, you know, I'd be scared he'd kill me by accident."

"I'd never want something like that," Sam whispers, stilling, shaking his head, the idea not even slightly turning him on. "Never take a chance of hurting you that badly."

Inhaling a shuddery breath, Ryan nods. "Thank you," he whispers, still caught in the clutches of deep-coursing fear, but now it's not about a horse. "Because... if you..." He shrugs a little, trying to explain that he can't even find his own volition in the face of such a situation, hypothetical though it is. "I would. ...I'd do it for you, Sir."

"I know you would," Sam says softly, the very fact of it blowing him away. Ryan would do anything for him. It's not just words. He would do whatever it took to please his sir. Please Sam. Even if it meant putting himself in harm's way. "And I swear. I'll always take care of you. I'll always make sure you're safe - both mentally and physically. I know how much you're mine. I won't ever abuse that."

Ryan nods again, wordlessly. He knows. If he didn't have absolute infinite trust in Sam, they would never have gotten to this point. He feels his eyes growing wet and he tangles his fingers in Sam's hair, pulling him down for a kiss full of need and desire.

Sam groans, licking fervently into Ryan's mouth, their tongues tangling, his cock buried deep in his boy, but it's still not enough. He wants inside him. "Wrap your legs around me," he orders, bringing his own up, his knees under the backs of Ryan's thighs, the position letting him deeper, letting him cradle his lover and move into him again and again, rocking into him, taking everything, claiming everything. Mine.

Obediently Ryan locks his ankles together at the small of Sam's back. Yes, fuck yes. He reaches out and curls his hands around Sam's hips, moving with his lover in pure ecstasy.

The pleasure's so intense, so perfect, so all-encompassing there aren't any words for it, any formed thought. Sam moans into Ryan's mouth, gasps against his lips, smearing words of endearment, of possession, ownership and love against his mouth, sliding into him until there's no hope of holding on and he goes over with a cry of "with me", vision whiting out with the force of it, his cock pulsing, seed spurting thickly inside his boy.

Ryan's body reacts before he consciously processes the order, and he shudders beneath his lover with the intensity of his climax. "Oh, god," he gasps, clinging to Sam even more tightly than he usually does during afterglow. "Sam...?"

Sam nods, chuckling softly. "Yeah?"

Shaking his head slightly in an attempt to clear some of the haze, Ryan looks into his lover's eyes. "Just..." he trails off, wondering how he could ever manage to explain the depths of his emotions right now, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed and undone. "Just need you."

"Me too," Sam whispers, dipping his head for another kiss. "Always."