The Panel Room After Dark
Read the storyCan you please carry this scene into smut pls: “We should probably stop.” Simon stared at him for two full seconds, then his whole face crumpled into the most offended, desperate expression Ryland had ever seen. “No.” Simon’s hand slid around his waist, holding on tighter, and when he spoke his voice had gone rough and almost whiny with it. “I waited months,” he said. “You do not get to discover restraint now.” Ryland actually groaned at that, tipping his head back for half a second before looking at him again. “You cannot say things like that to me.” “Then don’t stop,” Simon said immediately, and there was no pride left in it now, only want. “Please.” That one word nearly wrecked Ryland where he stood. The movie credits had started rolling. Neither of them had noticed. Ryland glanced once toward the screen, then back at Simon, who looked thoroughly kissed and only getting worse by the second. “Panel room,” Ryland said. “Terrible place for this.” Simon’s eyes flicked to his mouth. “Then take me somewhere better.” For a moment Ryland genuinely forgot every language he knew. Then he smiled, slow and dangerous, and Simon’s breath caught like he’d realized exactly what he’d handed him. Ryland leaned in, kissed him once, lingering and warm. “Okay,” he murmured against Simon’s lips. Simon shivered and let out one last tiny sound, like relief. Ryland drew back just enough to offer him a hand. Simon looked down at it, then up at him, and something in his expression softened — only for a second, but enough for Ryland to catch it. He took Ryland’s hand. Ryland hauled him up out of the chair, caught him automatically when his footing shifted, and tugged him in close immediately after, because apparently he had no self-control left whatsoever, kissing him again while Simon melted into it with a breathless little noise. “Still never kissed anyone?” Ryland asked. Simon slid a hand up the back of his neck and smirked, just barely. “I guess I’m making up for lost time.” Ryland’s hand tightened at his waist. “Oh,” he murmured, mouth brushing Simon’s. “I think you are.”