Title: Restitution

Author: Heath07

Rating: R -sexuality and swearing

Summary: Ryan and Summer have one last time.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything...

Notes: So I just wrote a Seth/Summer fic and I didn't like the prospect of studying, so I decided to write some naughty Summer/Ryan fun instead. Hope y'all don't mind. Heh.

They were doomed from the start, but that didn't matter. The first time, they agreed it was wrong and it would never happen again. The second time, she was smarting from Seth's rejection and he was horny. The third, fourth, fifth time...they had no more excuses. They couldn't explain it and they certainly couldn't stop.

Even though, once they were caught, people would get hurt, they just couldn't help themselves. And they were positive they would get caught one day because from their experiences you couldn't hold onto a good thing for long. Even if the good thing was just fantastic sex. The cosmic order or disorder of their lives had always been crap and liked to take away the good things. That was one thing they had in common.

Seth wouldn't understand. He couldn't. Marissa sure as hell wouldn't either and Summer's explanation of: 'whoops, I fell and landed on your boyfriend's dick,' didn't seem like it would fly too well with Marissa. So that was it,they had to end it. They had to.

But Ryan was just so good.

Summer's had her share of lovers, but no one like Ryan. No one that wanted to know what she wanted. What she needed. No one that gave it to her. Over and over again...sometimes multiple times a night.

When Ryan found time to meet her, she didn't have the luxury of asking questions because she didn't want the answers. She didn't want to hear if Seth was with Anna or what lie he had to tell Marissa so he could sneak off, it just made her hate herself even more and she was sick of living in a bubble of repulsion.

Ryan never knocked. Even before they'd started sleeping together, she had somehow suspected he wasn't the knocking type. He broke in, picking the lock, or slipped through her bedroom window. At least juvenile hall was good for one thing.

Ryan was deceptively light on his feet --Summer couldn't recount the number of times she'd come in from her private bathroom to find him sprawled on her bed, skimming through one of her magazines.

This time, she'd known he was coming. Seeing him at her window, she opened the sill and yanked him inside her bedroom.

They stared at each other for a long minute before he stepped forward and touched her face. "I only have an hour," he said, slowly, letting his thumb run over her bottom lip.

Summer nodded in understanding, not trusting her voice. She let her tongue snake out and wet her lips, sliding over his thumb in the process.

Without further prompting, he tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and pulled it over his head.

Summer's fingers tangled in the hem of her own shirt, playing with a button, but his hand covered hers and gripped the material himself. She didn't protest when he skidded the skin of her stomach and ripped the shirt open, sending the buttons sailing in all directions. There was no time for her to complain because his lips were on hers and his tongue was hot inside her mouth, his fingers expertly undoing her jeans and sliding them down her hips. She remembered she hadn't been wearing a bra and she most certainly wasn't wearing panties. Gripping her thighs, he hoisted her up and pinned her against the door, pressing his erection against her through denim. It had always amazed her how hard he got so fast.

Ryan's body was smooth and warm and Summer yielded to his touch. He tasted like danger and she stretched, bowing to every playful thrust, trying to get deeper inside his mouth. "I want... I need..." Coherent thoughts were just not possible when Ryan was pressed against her.

"Tell me," he hissed, moving his mouth from hers to lave at her neck and the hallow of her throat. "Summer," he pleaded --for what, he didn't know-- sinking his forehead against her soft breasts. His tongue stroked her nipple, rolling it between his lips and gently biting down with his teeth.

She arched her back, bringing them soclose, but not close enough. She needed him to be inside her. "Inside," she uttered, a cry coming from her swollen lips in a voice she didn't recognize as her own.

She felt him shift, but she couldn't lift her head from his shoulder to make out what he was doing. It only took seconds and then she felt him hot and sheathed against her, prodding.

"Ryan," she whimpered, sucking her lip inside her own mouth as her head hit the back of the door.

She could feel him smiling against her neck. "What?" he teased.

"Please." She licked his skin, savoured the salt of his sweat and the undercurrent of pungent soap.

He slid inside her slick heat, frozen with the tight, consuming pressure on his cock. He gave her a moment to adjust and then he was moving. Moving inside her and filling her--what felt like, all the way to her womb.

"Oh, God!" she moaned and it wasn't her imagination that he was chuckling.

He caressed her neck, and how he managed to hold her up with really only one hand, amazed her. Stroking the skin there, he kissed her, but it was soft. Softer than anything she'd ever remembered between them. It was almost tender.

"This is the last time," she whispered into his ear, before nipping his lobe violently.

"Faster?" he asked, not faltering, his hand going back to her hip so he could piston in and out with greater leverage. She nodded against his shoulder, biting into it when he hit the right spot.

"There! Right there," she keened, scraping her nails over his back, creating long red lines that he wouldn't be able to explain to Marissa.

She had to train herself to keep her eyes open. She liked to watch him. Watch his face and his muscles strain as they worked together. He was so fucking beautiful. So fucking strong.

And if she didn't feel so guilty for betraying her best friend, she'd tell him that and be able to look him in the eye when she came. But she couldn't. She wasn't a fool, she knew he didn't feel that way about her either, that they were both in it for the sex. Just once, though, she wanted to watch his eyes turn dark and his pupils dilate as he spilled inside her, filling every ache in her body with raw pleasure.

She couldn't call him Chino when he was rutting into her like a jackhammer. Instead she cried, moaned, screamed out his name like a booming knell. "RyanRyanRyan!"

And their eyes locked and his lips parted, her name spilling from his tongue like honey and then he was coming, tightly pressed inside her, and there was so much pressure, she thought she would break, but wave after wave of life spiralled inside her, uncoiling and spinning out of control. Stars formed in front of her eyes and she had a hard time keeping focus. Then he kissed her hard and his eyes closed and the spell was severed.

He set her down and she could tell his arms were weak from the strain when he reached for his jeans and boxers and his hand shook. He dressed quietly as was his nature and when he climbed out the window and she said good-bye, he didn't look back. She didn't blame him. She couldn't.

He had made it good. So good. The best yet. It didn't leave her satisfied like she thought it would. It didn't leave her empty either. It just left her wanting more.

end.