Only One
Pairing: Seth/Ryan (The OC)
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Ryan's POV, lyrics used without permission.
Broken this fragile thing now
And I can't, I can't pick up the pieces
And I've thrown my words all around
But I can't, I can't give you a reason
I feel so broken up (so broken up)
And I give up (I give up)
I just want to tell you so you know
Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you
You are my only one
I let go, there's just no one that gets me like you do
You are my only, my only one
Made my mistakes, let you down
And I can't, I can't hold on for too long
Ran my whole life in the ground
And I can't, I can't get up when you're gone
And something's breaking up (breaking up)
I feel like giving up (like giving up)
I won't walk out until you know
Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you
You are my only one
I let go, there's just no one who gets me like you do
You are my only my only one
Here I go so dishonestly
Leave a note for you my only one
And I know you can see right through me
So let me go and you will find someone
Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you
You are my only one
I let go, there's just no one, no one like you
You are my only, my only one
My only one
My only one
My only one
You are my only, my only one
-Yellowcard, "Only One"
In the short time I've lived in Newport Beach, I've learned a few things. Number one: everyone here has problems the same way everyone in Chino has problems. The only difference is that the problems here involve more money than people in Chino have ever even dreamed of. Number two: no matter where you live, you have to deal with assholes; here they're the same assholes as in Chino, except that now they have flashy cars. Number Three: when Seth Cohen starts rambling, it is nearly impossible to get him to shut up.
It's a damn good thing he's cute when he rambles.
He's spent at least fifteen minutes discussing the various ways he's thought of asking Summer to sail to Tahiti with him. With each sentence, he gets more anxious, starts talking faster, using more hand gestures, until I'm afraid he'll explode from the tension in his body language. Normally I wouldn't interrupt him for anything--even if I DID think I could get a word in edgewise. But it’s nearly three in the morning, and I'm entirely bored of hearing about Summer Robert's all-wonderful qualities. He may be in love with her, but she irritates the hell out of me.
And she doesn't deserve him, dammit.
"Do you think maybe we could discuss this tomorrow, Seth?" I ask, speaking up just as he pauses to take a breath. "I mean...you aren't leaving for Tahiti for almost two years. I think we can come up with something before then."
He shakes his head vehemently, "No, we have to do it soon. If not, she might make other plans, and if she makes other plans, she can't come to Tahiti, and that just can't happen. The boat's named after her, for Christ's sake, if she doesn't come with me, it would be like, bad karma or something. We have to start planning now to make sure..."
I hold up a hand to stop him, "Does Summer Roberts strike you as the type to make plans two years in advance?"
He opens his mouth to protest, but then relents, "...Okay, maybe not. But still, I want her to know about it ahead of time so that she can turn down any other options."
I shake my head slightly, "I promise you, we'll think about it tomorrow."
"Dammit, Ryan. This is important, life changing stuff we're talking about. You can't just SLEEP through it. This isn't just any girl I'm talking about taking to Tahiti. This is SUMMER..."
"Seth…" I interrupt again, and he stops talking, and I think he's going to leave. Instead, after a long moment, he speaks again.
"What if I told her that it was just a surprise, and she'd have to wait to find out..."
Enough. I can't take another fucking second of him saying her name, asking advice about her, singing her praises. Asking him to shut up didn't work. So I do the only other thing I can think of. I kiss him.
It works.
For a long moment, Seth is completely and totally silent, eyes wide, mouth just slightly opened. It may not last more than a few heartbeats, but the confused stare he's got trained on me seems to last for minutes, hours, days, lifetimes. When he finally says something, it only comes out in a whisper, but the words echo in my ears. "Do that again."
"What?" I ask incredulously, positive I've misheard him, that wishful thinking has muddled his words.
"Do. That. Again," he repeats, just a fraction of a decibel louder.
So I kiss him again. And again. Over and over, each kiss longer, deeper, more electric than the last. His fingers cling to the front of my shirt and my hands bury into his hair, as if we’re clutching on to each other for fear of being torn apart. He pulls away only long enough to catch a breath, and I gasp his name, "Seth…"
Seth. I’m kissing Seth.
Fuck.
"Wait, wait…" I murmur, gently pushing him back. "We can’t do this…"
Somewhere in the last few minutes, Seth has found the confidence that he’s been unable to grasp in all the years he’s wanted Summer. He tugs my shirt hard, pulling me back against him, and without a word, he’s kissing me again. Ignoring any of my protests, he slips his tongue past my lips and pushes my shirt a few inches above my waist. His hands burn my bare skin, sending a hot shiver up my spine. I keep making half-hearted objections, but by the time his mouth is on my neck, sucking the skin just below my ear, they sound more like nonsensical whispers.
My heart is pumping at full speed, my head clouded and dizzy from the intensity of the kiss. He peels my shirt off, exploring my chest with shaking hands, biting at my collarbone while I drag my fingers along the skin of his waist, right along the edge of his jeans. I yank his shirt up and off, tossing it somewhere behind me, ignoring the nagging, reasonable voice in the back of my mind. His chest is slim, but defined, and his throat is just slightly salty against my tongue. He’s shivering so hard that it scares me, and I almost push him away, but then his lips are on mine again, and I’m trembling right along with him.
My hands drift back to his waist, and I slowly tug the button of his jeans free, leaving him plenty of time to stop me if he doesn’t want me to do it. He responds by lifting his hips so I can push the denim down his legs, and then he’s quickly doing the same with my pants. Once we’re both in boxers, we pause, staring for a long moment at each other. I’ve done this before, but I know that he hasn’t, and I don’t want to scare him, so I wait for him to make a move.
He’s still shaking, and I can see the pulse in his throat beating a mile a minute, but his eyes are darkened, his lids heavy, and he looks hard enough to cut glass. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he leans towards me, brushing his lips over mine, and he whispers, "Please, Ryan…I want this to happen…"
That’s all it takes. I push him gently onto the bed, laying him on his back, and I slowly drag his boxers down his legs, my eyes following their path. The long, lean muscles of his thighs make it hard to be patient, but I know I have to be hesitant with him, in case he changes his mind. He hisses softly as I stroke my fingertips up his legs from his knees to his hips, barely a centimeter away from his cock. I glance up at his face, so agonized and pleading that I give in, slowly, lightly wrapping my hand around him, his shaft hard and pulsing in my grasp. He thrusts forward slightly, moaning loudly, and I lean up to kiss him, trying to get him to stay quiet.
His hands, still unsure, slowly slide to my hips, tugging gently on my pants, and I let him pull them off of me. I’m still stroking him, squeezing him, eliciting tiny, quiet moans. I hear him mutter my name as he nudges the waistband of my underwear down, the mutter turning into a gasp once the fabric is down enough to show my dick. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the head, sliding smoothly over the drop of precum that had appeared. My moan must encourage him, because his hand slips around me, and he strokes down slowly, then back up, squeezing just enough to make it impossible to say anything coherent.
He's whispering my name, over and over, and I enjoy the sound too much to stop him, so I let him go, his hand working on my shaft, his breath tickling my earlobes. "Stop..." I ask him, because if he doesn't, I'm not going to last more than another couple of minutes, and I don't want this to end so fast. I nuzzle his neck for a moment, attempting to calm us both, but he's gasping, begging, pleading that I touch him, kiss him, do SOMETHING.
I can't bear the desperation in his voice, so I move down to kneel between his legs. I wrap one hand around the base of his dick, and then I lean down to kiss the head. He's hard, and yet smooth and soft all at once, and as I wrap my lips around him, I let my eyes drift shut so I can savor the moment. I've wanted this from the minute I came here, I've wanted him writhing and moaning and beautiful underneath me. His fingers clench in my hair, and I can tell from his gasps that he's getting close, so I pull back, wanting to stretch this as long as possible.
"Ryan, please..." he begs again, and I reach blindly for the bottle of lube stored in the drawer of my bedside table, hoping he doesn't ask why I have it. I haven't used it since I've been here, but I don't want to worry him. Biting my lip, watching his expression, I stroke one slick finger against his opening, waiting for him to stop me, yell at me, run screaming, but instead he just groans encouragingly. He whimpers softly as I push the digit inside him, but he's clenching around me, making me harder, giving me an idea of how he'll feel around my dick. Forcing myself to stay in control, I gently slip a second finger into him, moaning at the tight heat of him.
"Now..." he gasps, clutching the sheets in his hands. I quickly roll on a condom and then pull his legs up around my waist, never taking my eyes from his face.
"Are you sure you want this, Seth?" I ask, my voice hoarse and thick with need. "It's going to hurt..."
He doesn't say another word, just tightens his legs around me, and so I take it as a yes. I push slowly into him, burying my face in his neck to muffle the curse I let out. He gasps, his back arching up off of the bed, clenching tight around me. "Relax," I whisper, gently rocking my hips against him, thrusting a bit deeper each time, "it'll make this easier..."
Once I'm fully inside him, I stop, clenching my hands into fists to keep myself from letting go, from fucking him fast and hard like I want to, staring into his eyes to make sure he's okay. He smiles weakly, wincing just a bit, and then nods slowly so that I know he's ready. My rhythm starts gently, smoothly, and within seconds, he's gasping and moaning, and before long, he comes, exploding over my hand, the warm liquid sliding between our stomachs as I continue to move inside him. His face is a mask of pure, gorgeous pleasure, and I can't hold myself back. I start thrusting faster, harder, growling his name into his shoulder, biting at his skin.
Next thing I know, my head is swimming in darkness, my entire body burning in a sweet, all-consuming flame, and I'm losing all control, coming with a shout, my nails sinking hard into his hips. It isn't until my breathing slows and my heart stops pounding in my ears that I realize he's crying softly.
Trying to force the fog from my brain, I stare at him, eyes wide. "Are you okay?" I ask, nearly hysterical.
He sniffles and nods slowly, "Just...hurt more than I thought it would."
Shit. Shit. I knew I shouldn't have let myself lose control. I should've been more careful. I should've been more gentle. I shouldn't have hurt him. Fuck. I shouldn't have done anything to him. I should've sent him to his room and avoided the whole mess.
"You...you should go clean up," I say, biting my lip. It's too late to keep from hurting him, but at least he won't have to spend the night with me. "Your parents will wonder why you're still out here."
He opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it, clenching his teeth and blinking back angry tears. I look away, unable to stand the look of disgust he's sending me. I wonder if he regrets what we did, or if he's just mad at me for asking him to leave. "Right. My parents are really so fucking concerned, I'm sure." He pulls his boxers and jeans back on, storming from the pool house carrying his t-shirt and fighting off more tears.
I lay back on my pillow, swallowing hard around the lump in my throat, and settle in for a long, sleepless night.
When the sun finally comes up, I'm still laying in the same position as I was when Seth left, but now I've got some decisions made. I have to leave. I can't stay here. I can't be with Seth every day, can't see that look of anger and hatred in his eyes. I can't face his parents who have been nothing but nice to me, not after I ruined their only son. Realizing I've got at least an hour before anyone inside is awake, I start putting my things in a book bag. I leave most of my new clothes in the drawers, because I only have space for a few things.
I look around, double-checking for anything I may have missed, and my eyes land on a notebook on the table. It's Seth's, but it'll do. I scribble a quick note, explaining that I've caused them enough trouble, and that I'll be fine. I promise to call and let them know I'm okay, and reassure them that I can take care of myself. I rip the paper out of the notebook and fold it in half, leaving the letter on the coffee table, with Seth's name scrawled on it.
I get choked up as I'm closing the doors of the pool house, realizing that I'm going to miss it here. I'm going to miss being part of a family. But then, it's my own fault. I ruined my chance at normalcy by falling in love with Seth.
As if on cue, he's walking out of his house at that moment. Startled, he stares at me, "Why are you awake so early?"
I can't lie to him; I've already hurt him too much. "...I'm leaving. I...I was hoping to just make a silent escape. There's a note in the pool house. I wasn't expecting anyone to be awake."
"You're...leaving? Just...fucking going to up and walk out?" he says, an angry edge to his words. "After everything my parents did for you, you're just going to go without telling them anything?"
"What am I supposed to say, Seth? 'Hey, I fucked your son. Hurt him really bad. Sorry about that. I'll be going now.' It just doesn't WORK like that," I reply, trying to push past him.
He stops me, grabbing the collar of my shirt. "Was it that fucking bad? I know I'm a fucking beginner, but Jesus, I thought the sex was pretty fucking good. Why didn't you just TELL me how bad I was?"
Bad? Are you fucking kidding me? "Seth, you were anything BUT bad. You...but you were crying. I hurt you. How...how can you say it was good?"
He rolls his eyes dramatically, "Fuck, Ryan, I was a virgin. Just your FINGER hurt at first. There was no way to avoid it. It's certainly no reason to get up and leave."
"Still...if your parents ever found out, after everything they've done for me..."
"We'll deal with my parents when the situation comes up. As it is, they'll be very pissed off if you leave," he says, pushing me back towards the pool house. "And I'll be simply inconsolable. I can't lose my best friend and first love all in one day, it's just too damn much to ask."
"First...love?"
He smiles sheepishly, shrugging a bit, "...I didn't know it until last night. But...yes. I love you, Ryan. Please don't leave me."
I kiss him deeply, whispering, "I love you too" against his lips, and pull him back onto my bed.
So maybe Newport Beach DOES have some perks that Chino didn't.
