Fic: Blowing Hot and Cold (Bandom, P!atD, Ryan/Brendon)
Guys, glamorous_nymph and I wrote fic. Ryan/Brendon fic. Ryan/Brendon porn. I KNOW, RIGHT?
Title: Blowing Hot and Cold
Authors: glamorous_nymph & bluejbird
Fandom/Pairing: Bandom (P!atD) Ryan Ross/ Brendon Urie
Rating: NC-17 (to be on the safe side)
Disclaimer: To the best of our knowledge, this never happened. Also we don’t own these boys.
Summary: “I’ve heard,” Brendon says, breathlessly, “that the best way to heat someone up is through skin to skin contact.”
A/N: light hearted fluff, written because Belfast is fucking freezing and everyone should have a pretty boy to warm them up on cold nights.
Ryan hurries through into Jon’s apartment, shutting the door behind him and shrugging out of his snow-soaked jacket.
“Jesus it’s-hello?”
He walks slowly into the living room, pulling off his gloves and dropping them onto the coffee table as he stares at the couch, or more specifically the small bundle of clothes and blankets occupying the couch.
“Hi,” the bundle says in a small, miserable voice.
"B-Brendon?”
The bundle nods.
"Why are you...?" Ryan trails off, lost for words.
The bundle shifts slightly and now Ryan can see Brendon's face, pale against his hair and the dark clothes surrounding it.
"Ryan," he whines, "Ryan it's really, really cold in here."
Ryan can't see Brendon’s mouth for the... three?... scarves covering it, but he's pretty sure Brendon is pouting. "I don't like Chicago. How does Jon survive this? Can't we go home?"
Ryan laughs a little, kicking off his shoes and heading over to sit beside Brendon. "No, Bren we can't. We're here to visit Jon; we haven't been here two days yet."
"But, Ryan, so cold."
Ryan can see Brendon's face better now, sitting so close, and he sees the pout grow to its full power. Brendon whimpers a little and snuggles down deeper into his pile of hoodies and blankets.
“Brendon, c’mon man it’s not that cold. The heating’s on.”
“I can’t feel my toes,” Brendon whispers, and Ryan can’t help but laugh softly.
He reaches out and pushes Brendon’s hat - woolly, for Christ’s sake, with a bobble - gently off his head, leaving his hand to slowly stroke Brendon’s hair.
“Bren,” he says softly, amused, “how many layers do you actually have on?”
“Uh…”
“You should probably be in bed.”
Brendon sits up straight in a flash. “What?”
“For warmth,” Ryan smirks, pushing up Brendon’s sleeve so he can lace fingers with Brendon’s. They are, it’s true, freezing cold. He brings Brendon’s hand up to his mouth and blows lightly on each of his fingers, before pressing his lips to the cold skin, kissing warmth into Brendon’s hand as he watches, eyes wide and mouth open a little, breathing uneven.
“C’mon,” Ryan says, his voice low, and he stands up, pulling Brendon up with a jerk.
He looks even more ridiculous now that he’s standing. Smiling, feeling a wave of affection, protectiveness, Ryan shakes his head a little and pulls a blanket and the first hoodie off of Brendon, dropping them onto the couch. He unwinds a scarf, leaving it with the other discarded garments and then hooks his fingers around a second scarf (seriously…) and tugs at it, uses it to lead Brendon into the guest bedroom, grinning, biting his bottom lip slyly.
“Ryan,” Brendon laughs, breathless, eyes shining as he follows Ryan, stumbling over his own feet. “Hey!”
Ryan’s wrapping the scarf slowly around his hand, pulling Brendon in until they’re both clear of the door, which he kicks shut, his eyes never leaving Brendon’s. He’s smiling still, lip still caught between his teeth, and he gives the scarf a final sharp tug, pulling Brendon in and against his body.
“Hi,” he whispers low, leaning in and kissing the corner of Brendon’s mouth, his cheek, before leaning back to unwrap the scarf from around Brendon’s neck and slide the next hoodie off of Brendon’s shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. The scarf is still clutched tight in his hand and he looks at it for a second before raising his free hand to Brendon’s neck, fingers grazing over his now hot skin, skating up to cup his jaw, thumb moving over his lips.
“Maybe,” he says, voice low, dark. “Maybe next time I’ll leave this on.”
And he lifts his arm, lets the scarf fall gracefully to the floor. Brendon swallows, eyes fluttering shut. He licks his lips and catches Ryan’s thumb, and his eyes open wide. Ryan smirks, hands sliding over Brendon’s chest to tug at his zipper.
“Still cold?” he grins.
Brendon giggles as Ryan unzips the final hoodie and peels it from Brendon’s shoulders, tossing it behind him onto the floor. Ryan reaches out and slides a hand onto each side of his hips to hold Brendon steady, and his fingers brush the edge of Brendon’s thin t-shirt. He can feel Brendon’s sharp intake of breath, and he slowly raises his head to meet Brendon’s eyes.
“I’ve heard,” Brendon says, breathlessly, “that the best way to heat someone up is through skin to skin contact.”
There’s a long moment as they look at each other, each giving the other the chance to back out. Brendon bites his lip, and Ryan lets his eyes fall shut, and slowly slides first his thumb, and then the fingers of his right hand under the shirt, pressing his fingers against the soft skin of Brendon’s stomach. Brendon, he realises, really is cold, but Ryan’s hands are warm and Brendon pushes himself into Ryan’s touch, sighing in a satisfied way that makes Ryan’s eyes fly open to find Brendon staring back at him.
Slowly, Ryan slides his other hand under the shirt too, and pushes it up, fingers sliding up Brendon’s chest, thumbs and palms brushing over nipples hardened by the cold or, maybe, by his touch.
"C'mon," he murmurs, and Brendon obediently raises his arms, lets Ryan pull his shirt up and off.
Brendon shivers a little as Ryan lets his shirt fall to the floor. They hesitate, inches apart, and then it’s Brendon who reaches out and tries to take Ryan’s shirt off too, fingers fumbling on buttons.
“Skin to skin, remember,” Brendon reminds him, leaning in close so his nose is brushing Ryan’s jaw. His nose is cold against Ryan’s skin, and when Ryan automatically pulls away, Brendon huffs a laugh, warm breath on Ryan’s neck, and rubs his nose behind Ryan’s ear.
His hands have warmed up, soft fingers skating over Ryan's skin, but he leans further in to nuzzle at Ryan's neck and his nose is cold, sharp cold against Ryan's skin. He shivers, giggling a little, hot and cold and breath coming harsh and ragged.
"Brendon, Bren," he laughs again, "your nose, Bren."
With Ryan’s shirt gone, Brendon slides his hands down, cold fingertips dragging over Ryan’s skin, skirting above the waistband of his pants, along the sharp line of Ryan’s hipbones.
Ryan's breath catches as Brendon follows the lines of his hips with his thumbs, down under his pants, as the cold press of his nose is replaced with soft kisses down his throat and along his collar bone, Brendon humming contentedly. Ryan suppresses a moan, pushes his hips forward into Brendon's pointedly, grins when Brendon chuckles, soft and low, and starts to undo Ryan's pants.
His hands are shaking a little, no longer from the cold, and Ryan brings a hand up to cup Brendon's jaw, leans in to catch his eye. "Hey, hey, are you--?" Brendon grins up at him, sudden and bright as he pushes Ryan's pants roughly down and unceremoniously slides his hands down the back of Ryan's boxers, pulling him closer. Ryan can't help but moan aloud this time, bucking a little against Brendon's hips, still clad in rough denim.
Brendon laughs darkly, kisses the corner of his mouth. It's gentle but not chaste, far from chaste. "I knew this would work," he whispers.
Ryan pulls back a little to get a good look at him, then tries to kiss the self satisfied smirk off Brendon’s lips, pushing him gently until Brendon tumbles back onto the bed.
Brendon stares up at him for a moment, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise, and then he’s scrambling backwards, feet trying to find purchase on the bedcovers until he finally gets himself back against the pillows. He undoes his jeans and slides them off, kicking his legs frantically until they’re off and kicked to the side.
Ryan climbs onto the bed, crawling up until he’s kneeling between Brendon’s splayed thighs. He leans forward, reaching out to cup the back of Brendon’s neck and pull him up towards him until their lips meet. It’s a sweet, gentle kiss, and Ryan breaks away, letting Brendon fall back onto the pile of pillows. He slides his hands down Brendon’s sides, enjoying the way Brendon shifts a little, grinning because it tickles, and then he slides his fingernails under the elastic of Brendon’s boxers and lifts up, pulling them away from chilled skin. Ryan knows he’s being a tease as he slowly, slowly, inches the fabric down, and he hears Brendon suck in a breath and hold it. When he looks up, Brendon’s eyes are wide and locked onto Ryan’s hands, but it’s only when his tongue flicks out and licks at his bottom lip that it spurs Ryan into action and Brendon’s underwear are being thrown over his shoulder before he can really think about it.
He turns back and spends a long moment staring at Brendon, lying naked before him. Brendon shivers.
“I’m cold,” Brendon reminds him, pouting a little. “Ryan, warm me up.”
He’s hard and waiting, his fingers already digging into the sheets in anticipation, and so Ryan slides his hands up Brendon’s thighs, thumbs at the crease at the top of his legs for a self indulgent moment before dipping his head and licking a long stripe up Brendon’s dick.
Brendon makes a strangled noise, and so Ryan does it again, sliding his hand across slowly to wrap thumb and forefinger around the base. He lifts his head and catches Brendon watching him, propped up on his elbows to see better.
“Ryan,” he says, voice cracking at the end, and Ryan dips his head again, letting his hair fan out over Brendon’s skin as he takes him into his mouth.
Ryan moves his hand, working his fingers and mouth in sync, enjoying the silken feel of him on his tongue. He concentrates on that - the way Brendon tastes, the feel of Brendon’s fingers as they snake up onto his shoulder, digging in a little, the sound of Brendon’s stifled moans as if he’s biting on his fist, the smooth warmth of Brendon’s dick in his mouth.
Ryan quickens the rhythm, and Brendon’s hand slides from his shoulder to the back of his head, threading his fingers through Ryan’s hair. Ryan hums contentedly, and Brendon’s hips jerk up, pressing himself deeper into Ryan’s mouth, scraping himself over Ryan’s teeth. He groans and pants.
“Fuck, Ryan,” Brendon says, and Ryan looks up at him through his lashes and the sheet of hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes, smiling inside at the pink stains on Brendon’s cheeks.
“No, wait, I’m gonna-“ Brendon tugs at Ryan’s hair, lightly and first and then hard, insistent, and Ryan pulls away, letting Brendon curl away from him a little.
“I don’t want to-“ Brendon forces out between pants, “not yet.”
His fingers scrabble over the sheets, searching for Ryan’s hand. “I want this to last,” he says, tugging Ryan over him, wrapping his foot around the back of Ryan’s knee and pulling him down.
“These are in the way,” he says, pressing his lips to Ryan’s jaw and sliding his hands inside Ryan’s boxers and pushing them down. Ryan can’t help but agree, and tries to get up but Brendon’s arm is around his waist, holding him close, and so it takes a bit of wriggling around and Brendon’s giggles mingling with Ryan’s own before he’s naked too.
“Much better,” Brendon says with his lips pressed to Ryan’s, and flips them over.
“I thought you were cold?” Ryan asks when Brendon holds himself up and grins wickedly down at him.
“Oh, I am,” Brendon says seriously. “I have a clever plan though. I hear friction always builds a little heat,” and he slides a leg between Ryan’s, presses their bodies closer than should have been possible, and thrusts his hips forward.
“Guh,” Ryan says coherently, and lifts his hips to meet Brendon’s next thrust. It’s an exquisite sort of feeling, the pressure and slide of Brendon above him, their dicks rubbing together with each movement, delicious friction growing more and more as their rhythm increases, Ryan sliding sloppy kisses down Brendon’s neck.
And then Brendon says “Ryan,” into his ear, and his voice is so full of need and heat that it pushes Ryan over the edge and he’s coming, warmth spreading between their bodies and then Brendon falters and comes too.
“Fuck,” he says, lying heavy on top of Ryan, but it’s a pleasant weight that Ryan wants to keep forever. “Shit, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I didn’t want you to-“
He breaks off, frowning a little. “I thought you’d want to fuck me,” he explains, and Ryan laughs and wraps an arm around him, pulling him in tight for a kiss, noses bumping. “Plenty of time for that,” he says in Brendon’s ear, and Brendon smiles and licks his way into Ryan’s mouth.
They lie together for awhile, until Ryan feels Brendon’s back beginning to grow cold again, and then they wriggle and squirm and twist their way under the covers until they have their own little warm cocoon and the only part of Brendon that’s still cold are his toes, which are pressed against Ryan’s calves, and his nose, which is pressed into the crook of Ryan’s neck.
~~~
When Jon and Spencer get home a couple of hours later, arguing good naturedly - "my shoes are ruined, Jon Walker, ruined. You're buying me new ones tomorrow, I'm sorry" - they're met by a suspicious trail of hoodies and blankets leading to the firmly closed bedroom door. Jon laughs, loud and open, throws an arm good naturedly over Spencer's shoulder as Spencer grins down at him.
"'Bout time, losers!" Spencer yells, pushing Jon away so he can shrug out of his coat.
Jon grins, still chuckling to himself as he heads into the kitchen, starting up the coffee maker. He can hear faint yelling coming from the guest bedroom but he can't make out the words, just hears Spencer's laughter as he follows into the kitchen
"Think they'll be more or less annoying, now?" Spencer asks, smirking.
"Who knows. Maybe we can just lock them in there, beat all Brendon's high scores on guitar hero." He hands Spencer his coffee, smiling wide as their fingers brush.
"I like your thinking," he grins. "Let's go."
Title: Blowing Hot and Cold
Authors: glamorous_nymph & bluejbird
Fandom/Pairing: Bandom (P!atD) Ryan Ross/ Brendon Urie
Rating: NC-17 (to be on the safe side)
Disclaimer: To the best of our knowledge, this never happened. Also we don’t own these boys.
Summary: “I’ve heard,” Brendon says, breathlessly, “that the best way to heat someone up is through skin to skin contact.”
A/N: light hearted fluff, written because Belfast is fucking freezing and everyone should have a pretty boy to warm them up on cold nights.
Ryan hurries through into Jon’s apartment, shutting the door behind him and shrugging out of his snow-soaked jacket.
“Jesus it’s-hello?”
He walks slowly into the living room, pulling off his gloves and dropping them onto the coffee table as he stares at the couch, or more specifically the small bundle of clothes and blankets occupying the couch.
“Hi,” the bundle says in a small, miserable voice.
"B-Brendon?”
The bundle nods.
"Why are you...?" Ryan trails off, lost for words.
The bundle shifts slightly and now Ryan can see Brendon's face, pale against his hair and the dark clothes surrounding it.
"Ryan," he whines, "Ryan it's really, really cold in here."
Ryan can't see Brendon’s mouth for the... three?... scarves covering it, but he's pretty sure Brendon is pouting. "I don't like Chicago. How does Jon survive this? Can't we go home?"
Ryan laughs a little, kicking off his shoes and heading over to sit beside Brendon. "No, Bren we can't. We're here to visit Jon; we haven't been here two days yet."
"But, Ryan, so cold."
Ryan can see Brendon's face better now, sitting so close, and he sees the pout grow to its full power. Brendon whimpers a little and snuggles down deeper into his pile of hoodies and blankets.
“Brendon, c’mon man it’s not that cold. The heating’s on.”
“I can’t feel my toes,” Brendon whispers, and Ryan can’t help but laugh softly.
He reaches out and pushes Brendon’s hat - woolly, for Christ’s sake, with a bobble - gently off his head, leaving his hand to slowly stroke Brendon’s hair.
“Bren,” he says softly, amused, “how many layers do you actually have on?”
“Uh…”
“You should probably be in bed.”
Brendon sits up straight in a flash. “What?”
“For warmth,” Ryan smirks, pushing up Brendon’s sleeve so he can lace fingers with Brendon’s. They are, it’s true, freezing cold. He brings Brendon’s hand up to his mouth and blows lightly on each of his fingers, before pressing his lips to the cold skin, kissing warmth into Brendon’s hand as he watches, eyes wide and mouth open a little, breathing uneven.
“C’mon,” Ryan says, his voice low, and he stands up, pulling Brendon up with a jerk.
He looks even more ridiculous now that he’s standing. Smiling, feeling a wave of affection, protectiveness, Ryan shakes his head a little and pulls a blanket and the first hoodie off of Brendon, dropping them onto the couch. He unwinds a scarf, leaving it with the other discarded garments and then hooks his fingers around a second scarf (seriously…) and tugs at it, uses it to lead Brendon into the guest bedroom, grinning, biting his bottom lip slyly.
“Ryan,” Brendon laughs, breathless, eyes shining as he follows Ryan, stumbling over his own feet. “Hey!”
Ryan’s wrapping the scarf slowly around his hand, pulling Brendon in until they’re both clear of the door, which he kicks shut, his eyes never leaving Brendon’s. He’s smiling still, lip still caught between his teeth, and he gives the scarf a final sharp tug, pulling Brendon in and against his body.
“Hi,” he whispers low, leaning in and kissing the corner of Brendon’s mouth, his cheek, before leaning back to unwrap the scarf from around Brendon’s neck and slide the next hoodie off of Brendon’s shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. The scarf is still clutched tight in his hand and he looks at it for a second before raising his free hand to Brendon’s neck, fingers grazing over his now hot skin, skating up to cup his jaw, thumb moving over his lips.
“Maybe,” he says, voice low, dark. “Maybe next time I’ll leave this on.”
And he lifts his arm, lets the scarf fall gracefully to the floor. Brendon swallows, eyes fluttering shut. He licks his lips and catches Ryan’s thumb, and his eyes open wide. Ryan smirks, hands sliding over Brendon’s chest to tug at his zipper.
“Still cold?” he grins.
Brendon giggles as Ryan unzips the final hoodie and peels it from Brendon’s shoulders, tossing it behind him onto the floor. Ryan reaches out and slides a hand onto each side of his hips to hold Brendon steady, and his fingers brush the edge of Brendon’s thin t-shirt. He can feel Brendon’s sharp intake of breath, and he slowly raises his head to meet Brendon’s eyes.
“I’ve heard,” Brendon says, breathlessly, “that the best way to heat someone up is through skin to skin contact.”
There’s a long moment as they look at each other, each giving the other the chance to back out. Brendon bites his lip, and Ryan lets his eyes fall shut, and slowly slides first his thumb, and then the fingers of his right hand under the shirt, pressing his fingers against the soft skin of Brendon’s stomach. Brendon, he realises, really is cold, but Ryan’s hands are warm and Brendon pushes himself into Ryan’s touch, sighing in a satisfied way that makes Ryan’s eyes fly open to find Brendon staring back at him.
Slowly, Ryan slides his other hand under the shirt too, and pushes it up, fingers sliding up Brendon’s chest, thumbs and palms brushing over nipples hardened by the cold or, maybe, by his touch.
"C'mon," he murmurs, and Brendon obediently raises his arms, lets Ryan pull his shirt up and off.
Brendon shivers a little as Ryan lets his shirt fall to the floor. They hesitate, inches apart, and then it’s Brendon who reaches out and tries to take Ryan’s shirt off too, fingers fumbling on buttons.
“Skin to skin, remember,” Brendon reminds him, leaning in close so his nose is brushing Ryan’s jaw. His nose is cold against Ryan’s skin, and when Ryan automatically pulls away, Brendon huffs a laugh, warm breath on Ryan’s neck, and rubs his nose behind Ryan’s ear.
His hands have warmed up, soft fingers skating over Ryan's skin, but he leans further in to nuzzle at Ryan's neck and his nose is cold, sharp cold against Ryan's skin. He shivers, giggling a little, hot and cold and breath coming harsh and ragged.
"Brendon, Bren," he laughs again, "your nose, Bren."
With Ryan’s shirt gone, Brendon slides his hands down, cold fingertips dragging over Ryan’s skin, skirting above the waistband of his pants, along the sharp line of Ryan’s hipbones.
Ryan's breath catches as Brendon follows the lines of his hips with his thumbs, down under his pants, as the cold press of his nose is replaced with soft kisses down his throat and along his collar bone, Brendon humming contentedly. Ryan suppresses a moan, pushes his hips forward into Brendon's pointedly, grins when Brendon chuckles, soft and low, and starts to undo Ryan's pants.
His hands are shaking a little, no longer from the cold, and Ryan brings a hand up to cup Brendon's jaw, leans in to catch his eye. "Hey, hey, are you--?" Brendon grins up at him, sudden and bright as he pushes Ryan's pants roughly down and unceremoniously slides his hands down the back of Ryan's boxers, pulling him closer. Ryan can't help but moan aloud this time, bucking a little against Brendon's hips, still clad in rough denim.
Brendon laughs darkly, kisses the corner of his mouth. It's gentle but not chaste, far from chaste. "I knew this would work," he whispers.
Ryan pulls back a little to get a good look at him, then tries to kiss the self satisfied smirk off Brendon’s lips, pushing him gently until Brendon tumbles back onto the bed.
Brendon stares up at him for a moment, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise, and then he’s scrambling backwards, feet trying to find purchase on the bedcovers until he finally gets himself back against the pillows. He undoes his jeans and slides them off, kicking his legs frantically until they’re off and kicked to the side.
Ryan climbs onto the bed, crawling up until he’s kneeling between Brendon’s splayed thighs. He leans forward, reaching out to cup the back of Brendon’s neck and pull him up towards him until their lips meet. It’s a sweet, gentle kiss, and Ryan breaks away, letting Brendon fall back onto the pile of pillows. He slides his hands down Brendon’s sides, enjoying the way Brendon shifts a little, grinning because it tickles, and then he slides his fingernails under the elastic of Brendon’s boxers and lifts up, pulling them away from chilled skin. Ryan knows he’s being a tease as he slowly, slowly, inches the fabric down, and he hears Brendon suck in a breath and hold it. When he looks up, Brendon’s eyes are wide and locked onto Ryan’s hands, but it’s only when his tongue flicks out and licks at his bottom lip that it spurs Ryan into action and Brendon’s underwear are being thrown over his shoulder before he can really think about it.
He turns back and spends a long moment staring at Brendon, lying naked before him. Brendon shivers.
“I’m cold,” Brendon reminds him, pouting a little. “Ryan, warm me up.”
He’s hard and waiting, his fingers already digging into the sheets in anticipation, and so Ryan slides his hands up Brendon’s thighs, thumbs at the crease at the top of his legs for a self indulgent moment before dipping his head and licking a long stripe up Brendon’s dick.
Brendon makes a strangled noise, and so Ryan does it again, sliding his hand across slowly to wrap thumb and forefinger around the base. He lifts his head and catches Brendon watching him, propped up on his elbows to see better.
“Ryan,” he says, voice cracking at the end, and Ryan dips his head again, letting his hair fan out over Brendon’s skin as he takes him into his mouth.
Ryan moves his hand, working his fingers and mouth in sync, enjoying the silken feel of him on his tongue. He concentrates on that - the way Brendon tastes, the feel of Brendon’s fingers as they snake up onto his shoulder, digging in a little, the sound of Brendon’s stifled moans as if he’s biting on his fist, the smooth warmth of Brendon’s dick in his mouth.
Ryan quickens the rhythm, and Brendon’s hand slides from his shoulder to the back of his head, threading his fingers through Ryan’s hair. Ryan hums contentedly, and Brendon’s hips jerk up, pressing himself deeper into Ryan’s mouth, scraping himself over Ryan’s teeth. He groans and pants.
“Fuck, Ryan,” Brendon says, and Ryan looks up at him through his lashes and the sheet of hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes, smiling inside at the pink stains on Brendon’s cheeks.
“No, wait, I’m gonna-“ Brendon tugs at Ryan’s hair, lightly and first and then hard, insistent, and Ryan pulls away, letting Brendon curl away from him a little.
“I don’t want to-“ Brendon forces out between pants, “not yet.”
His fingers scrabble over the sheets, searching for Ryan’s hand. “I want this to last,” he says, tugging Ryan over him, wrapping his foot around the back of Ryan’s knee and pulling him down.
“These are in the way,” he says, pressing his lips to Ryan’s jaw and sliding his hands inside Ryan’s boxers and pushing them down. Ryan can’t help but agree, and tries to get up but Brendon’s arm is around his waist, holding him close, and so it takes a bit of wriggling around and Brendon’s giggles mingling with Ryan’s own before he’s naked too.
“Much better,” Brendon says with his lips pressed to Ryan’s, and flips them over.
“I thought you were cold?” Ryan asks when Brendon holds himself up and grins wickedly down at him.
“Oh, I am,” Brendon says seriously. “I have a clever plan though. I hear friction always builds a little heat,” and he slides a leg between Ryan’s, presses their bodies closer than should have been possible, and thrusts his hips forward.
“Guh,” Ryan says coherently, and lifts his hips to meet Brendon’s next thrust. It’s an exquisite sort of feeling, the pressure and slide of Brendon above him, their dicks rubbing together with each movement, delicious friction growing more and more as their rhythm increases, Ryan sliding sloppy kisses down Brendon’s neck.
And then Brendon says “Ryan,” into his ear, and his voice is so full of need and heat that it pushes Ryan over the edge and he’s coming, warmth spreading between their bodies and then Brendon falters and comes too.
“Fuck,” he says, lying heavy on top of Ryan, but it’s a pleasant weight that Ryan wants to keep forever. “Shit, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I didn’t want you to-“
He breaks off, frowning a little. “I thought you’d want to fuck me,” he explains, and Ryan laughs and wraps an arm around him, pulling him in tight for a kiss, noses bumping. “Plenty of time for that,” he says in Brendon’s ear, and Brendon smiles and licks his way into Ryan’s mouth.
They lie together for awhile, until Ryan feels Brendon’s back beginning to grow cold again, and then they wriggle and squirm and twist their way under the covers until they have their own little warm cocoon and the only part of Brendon that’s still cold are his toes, which are pressed against Ryan’s calves, and his nose, which is pressed into the crook of Ryan’s neck.
~~~
When Jon and Spencer get home a couple of hours later, arguing good naturedly - "my shoes are ruined, Jon Walker, ruined. You're buying me new ones tomorrow, I'm sorry" - they're met by a suspicious trail of hoodies and blankets leading to the firmly closed bedroom door. Jon laughs, loud and open, throws an arm good naturedly over Spencer's shoulder as Spencer grins down at him.
"'Bout time, losers!" Spencer yells, pushing Jon away so he can shrug out of his coat.
Jon grins, still chuckling to himself as he heads into the kitchen, starting up the coffee maker. He can hear faint yelling coming from the guest bedroom but he can't make out the words, just hears Spencer's laughter as he follows into the kitchen
"Think they'll be more or less annoying, now?" Spencer asks, smirking.
"Who knows. Maybe we can just lock them in there, beat all Brendon's high scores on guitar hero." He hands Spencer his coffee, smiling wide as their fingers brush.
"I like your thinking," he grins. "Let's go."