Perhaps Once More [Panic at the Disco, Ryan/Brendon, NC17]
Title: Perhaps Once More
Author/Artist: sobota
Rating: NC17
Warnings: BDSM, obedience training, come, some angst
Word count: 749
Summary: How Ryan pushed Brendon's buttons, and vice versa.
Mostly, it was how Brendon ate bananas that drove Ryan crazy. The way his teeth sank into the soft flesh of the fruit, how Brendon closed his eyes when he chewed. On the other hand, it was really annoying because Brendon would lean close to his ear and smack loudly in it.
Ryan turned one day and put his hand over Brendon's mouth as he chewed, his fingers pinching Brendon's nostrils shut. Brendon swallowed, wincing, and they stared at each other. Brendon licked Ryan's hand, but when he didn't move it, Brendon's eyes went wide as he scrabbled for Ryan's shirt.
Ryan reached between Brendon's legs, and nodded when he felt the erection growing there. "I thought so, you sick little bastard," he said, and let go of Brendon's nose and mouth. He turned and walked away, leaving Brendon gasping and choking up bits of banana.
That night, as Ryan fucked Brendon's mouth, he could hear Brendon gasping for air. He reached down and closed Brendon's nostrils again. Brendon grabbed at his thighs, but his head kept bobbing on Ryan's cock as Ryan continued fucking his mouth. Brendon was turning red and Ryan put his foot between Brendon's legs and pressed down before he let go.
Brendon cried as he came, and Ryan finished in his face.
---
Ryan left the panties on the bed with no instruction, but Brendon put them on. They weren't panties, exactly, but the unisex briefs from American Apparel; Ryan bought them in pink to make his point.
Brendon wore them and groped himself on stage; Ryan pressed his mouth to Brendon's ear as he played and called him slut, called him pussy. Brendon's voice cracked only once, and he dropped to his knees towards the end of the show.
"I gotta piss, Ryan," Brendon said backstage. Jon had called first shower, but Spencer was pulling off his sweaty shirt not two feet away. Spencer looked back at them, hands on his hips.
"Hold it," Ryan said.
"I..." Brendon looked over at Spencer. "I can't."
Jon came out of the shower just then, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked from face to face, and then got dressed as Spencer slipped into the shower.
"You gotta hold it," Ryan said.
Brendon sat down miserably, his legs crossed at the knee. "You're such a fucking girl," Ryan said, going over to Brendon and leaning down to kiss Brendon, pushing apart Brendon's legs and pressing down on his bladder.
---
It wasn't really a collar as much as it was a twisted rope of some sort of metal with a lock. It was cold and heavy against Brendon's clavicles. Ryan mostly made him wear it on the bus, or at the cabin. Brendon got so used to it that he would walk off the bus and Ryan would tug him back by it, making him stumble. "Stupid, stupid," Ryan mumbled and kissed the marks. "Don't do shit like that."
When Ryan pulled back on it, it tightened and left Brendon gasping. Brendon's eyes would cross and he would gasp, sometimes just slumping, shoulders going down and body softening. There were different tugs; Ryan had him trained to recognise when to drop to his knees or when to just stop and wait for instruction.
"I wish I could train you like that when we're on stage," Ryan mused one day. Brendon just pressed his face into Ryan's legs, murmuring happily. "You're a good boy."
Brendon lived for those four words. He didn't get them often.
---
The change was so obvious. Jon would sit between Brendon and Ryan during interviews, and even after Ryan had a bit to smoke up, Brendon would flick his eyes to Ryan before saying anything. Brendon's voice lowered, mellowed, and his jokes became less bawdy. It was such a positive change that Spencer and Jon didn't complain.
Brendon could eat out of Ryan's hand without protest; he could ask permission, and he wore the collar without complaint. They got used to seeing him in pink panties, got used to seeing the long red marks on his upper back. He sat on the floor, legs curled under him and head bowed.
"I'm so proud of you," Ryan mumbled one night before they got on stage. "You've been such a good little slut." He bit Brendon's earlobe, and Brendon took a deep breath. Ryan stroked his cheek, and took off the collar.
That night, in his bunk, he touched his clavicles and cried.
Author/Artist: sobota
Rating: NC17
Warnings: BDSM, obedience training, come, some angst
Word count: 749
Summary: How Ryan pushed Brendon's buttons, and vice versa.
Mostly, it was how Brendon ate bananas that drove Ryan crazy. The way his teeth sank into the soft flesh of the fruit, how Brendon closed his eyes when he chewed. On the other hand, it was really annoying because Brendon would lean close to his ear and smack loudly in it.
Ryan turned one day and put his hand over Brendon's mouth as he chewed, his fingers pinching Brendon's nostrils shut. Brendon swallowed, wincing, and they stared at each other. Brendon licked Ryan's hand, but when he didn't move it, Brendon's eyes went wide as he scrabbled for Ryan's shirt.
Ryan reached between Brendon's legs, and nodded when he felt the erection growing there. "I thought so, you sick little bastard," he said, and let go of Brendon's nose and mouth. He turned and walked away, leaving Brendon gasping and choking up bits of banana.
That night, as Ryan fucked Brendon's mouth, he could hear Brendon gasping for air. He reached down and closed Brendon's nostrils again. Brendon grabbed at his thighs, but his head kept bobbing on Ryan's cock as Ryan continued fucking his mouth. Brendon was turning red and Ryan put his foot between Brendon's legs and pressed down before he let go.
Brendon cried as he came, and Ryan finished in his face.
---
Ryan left the panties on the bed with no instruction, but Brendon put them on. They weren't panties, exactly, but the unisex briefs from American Apparel; Ryan bought them in pink to make his point.
Brendon wore them and groped himself on stage; Ryan pressed his mouth to Brendon's ear as he played and called him slut, called him pussy. Brendon's voice cracked only once, and he dropped to his knees towards the end of the show.
"I gotta piss, Ryan," Brendon said backstage. Jon had called first shower, but Spencer was pulling off his sweaty shirt not two feet away. Spencer looked back at them, hands on his hips.
"Hold it," Ryan said.
"I..." Brendon looked over at Spencer. "I can't."
Jon came out of the shower just then, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked from face to face, and then got dressed as Spencer slipped into the shower.
"You gotta hold it," Ryan said.
Brendon sat down miserably, his legs crossed at the knee. "You're such a fucking girl," Ryan said, going over to Brendon and leaning down to kiss Brendon, pushing apart Brendon's legs and pressing down on his bladder.
---
It wasn't really a collar as much as it was a twisted rope of some sort of metal with a lock. It was cold and heavy against Brendon's clavicles. Ryan mostly made him wear it on the bus, or at the cabin. Brendon got so used to it that he would walk off the bus and Ryan would tug him back by it, making him stumble. "Stupid, stupid," Ryan mumbled and kissed the marks. "Don't do shit like that."
When Ryan pulled back on it, it tightened and left Brendon gasping. Brendon's eyes would cross and he would gasp, sometimes just slumping, shoulders going down and body softening. There were different tugs; Ryan had him trained to recognise when to drop to his knees or when to just stop and wait for instruction.
"I wish I could train you like that when we're on stage," Ryan mused one day. Brendon just pressed his face into Ryan's legs, murmuring happily. "You're a good boy."
Brendon lived for those four words. He didn't get them often.
---
The change was so obvious. Jon would sit between Brendon and Ryan during interviews, and even after Ryan had a bit to smoke up, Brendon would flick his eyes to Ryan before saying anything. Brendon's voice lowered, mellowed, and his jokes became less bawdy. It was such a positive change that Spencer and Jon didn't complain.
Brendon could eat out of Ryan's hand without protest; he could ask permission, and he wore the collar without complaint. They got used to seeing him in pink panties, got used to seeing the long red marks on his upper back. He sat on the floor, legs curled under him and head bowed.
"I'm so proud of you," Ryan mumbled one night before they got on stage. "You've been such a good little slut." He bit Brendon's earlobe, and Brendon took a deep breath. Ryan stroked his cheek, and took off the collar.
That night, in his bunk, he touched his clavicles and cried.