One Night Standards
A Ryan/Espo fanfiction
There's no king bed covered in roses… just a room without a view
:-:
"I ain't gonna ask where your ring is
Thing is, we all got secrets
You don't wanna hear about my last break up
I don't wanna worry 'bout space you take up
I don't even care if you're here when I wake up"
-Ashley McBryde
:-:
It goes like this:
After a particularly difficult case you and Ryan head to The Old Haunt. You down some beers. You raise some toasts to good police work and a case well solved. You remember the dead; you get angry, depressed. It crawls up like a beast within you and no alcohol can drown it.
At some point Ryan slips his wedding ring off his finger. You watch him and you understand.
You share a taxi back to your flat and you never talk. His naked finger fills the silence.
Before you can even close your front door behind you he is finding your head with his hands, your lips with his mouth and the full weight of your bodies against it slams the door.
You violate him with your tongue, setting that beast free, fighting with his tie and shirt as he races you to remove yours.
You toe your shoes off on the way to the bedroom. They join the clothes on the floor, littered like breadcrumbs in some lost woods. You yourself are lost in his touch and his smell and his taste against your teeth.
He crawls backwards onto the bed and you cover him with your body and your hands as they trail across his skin, porcelain compared to your fingers. His nails find your back; pull you closer. There will be marks in the morning.
His eyes plead to you, beg you, and then roll back into their sockets as finally you fuck him; your face buried in his neck as he exposes it to you. The beast in you finds release. You are careful not to leave traces of your teeth, not to leave hickies on his hips; you know the consequences.
When he shudders and goes limp beneath you, you gather him up in your arms as if you can somehow hold him together, pretend that tomorrow will never come. But it always does.
And at some point in the night he slips from the bed and away from you. He dresses in the darkness and you don't need to watch to know he is sliding his ring back on his finger like a noose around your neck.
You will never talk about it. These are the one night standards Ryan lays down.
But the next time you find yourself on a challenging case your eyes fall to Ryan's fingers.
And it goes like this.