(no subject)
Title: A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet, Part 20
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Rating: NC-17 (yeah, you're finally getting what you've been wanting)
Summary: It had been incredibly ironic that the same boy who'd been so impatient for sex had been able to glow for hours after having received a mere two second long touch of lips on lips.
As I said, he was admirable.
Not that he wasn't still impatient. I had my suspicions as to why he was suddenly spending an abundance of time in the various bathrooms wherever we were.
Notes: It's pretty looong. Thirteen pages in Word, so... Anyway, hope you like it. Read 'Decisions Compromise Your Future' - it rocks!
Hopefully more tomorrow.
Disclaimer: I don't own, know, believe or want to get sued. That's just not my idea of fun.
Chapter 20
The stiff sheets were scratching at my legs and the city lights had put the hotel room in a state between dark and light, which bugged my tired eyes to no end.
The clock on my Sidekick read 02.03 am. We had a wakeup call ordered for 6.30 to enable us of catching the plane back to Vegas. I hadn't slept yet.
I sighed softly, almost soundlessly and shifted a bit in the itchy sheets.
Last night of the tour had come and left. The final show had been awesome beyond words. Everybody in all three bands had played out their souls, the atmostphere had been great, the crowd indescribable. If I hadn't already been sure, nights like these could still remind me why I was in the music business.
Brent, Brendon, Spencer and I had hung out with Sonny the whole night while everybody else partied because someone had alerted the police to the fact that there might be uderage drinking happening at the afterparty. Sonny had bitched and Brent had looked quite annoyed, but personally I was kind of happy I didn't have to be the only sober person around.
Yeah, Brendon and I still hung out. I mean, I still loved him, why wouldn't I want to spend time with him?
He still slept in his own bunk for the rest of the tour, though, and let me initiate any 'couplish' act or touching, wanting to make sure not to grind at my boundaries.
And while I was still mad at him, I was just as mad at myself because the whole situation was bugging me so much more than it should be.
The way Brendon handled it all was admirable. Never had I appreciated his sudden patience and understanding more. And I suspect that if he hadn't possessed these virtues, Matt would've been right about us not lasting the rest of the tour.
We had, though, lasted the rest of the tour, that is. Even with touching and those things at a minimum. I think that during the six days that had passed since Bren's slip-up we'd held hands about a dozen times and I'd pecked his cheek probably twice and his lips a grand total of one.
It had been incredibly ironic that the same boy who'd been so impatient for sex had been able to glow for hours after having received a mere two second long touch of lips on lips.
As I said, he was admirable.
Not that he wasn't still impatient. I had my suspicions as to why he was suddenly spending an abundance of time in the various bathrooms wherever we were.
But throughout it all, I still wasn't over those words and my anger was barely subsiding. I needed it to, though. For some reason I felt like I needed the matter resolved within myself before returning to Las Vegas.
I turned again, now looking over at Brendon, who was asleep on the other bed.
The room arrangements had been made earlier, before the initial conflict between him and myself had started. Nobody had bothered to change it, even in the period where we hadn't been able to even look at each other without jumping into a fit of rage.
Brent had offered to trade rooms with me, whisperingly of course, but apparently nobody knows about Brendon's above average hearing but me, so he hadn't gone far enough away and the vocalist had heard.
I'd seriously considered agreeing. Being alone in a hotel room would be very different from sleeping on the same bus as him AND two other guys.
The hurt, confused look on the face of my boyfriend had kept me from doing it, though.
I'd turned Brent down and watched a small smile form on Brendon's face before leaving the room.
All this led me to here, the hotel room, lying only a few feet away from Brendon who was soundly asleep.
My Sidekick was reading 2.17 now.
People say time passes quickly when you're having fun. In my point of view it just completely vanishes when you're thinking.
I couldn't sleep for some reason, didn't even mentally feel tired although a few hours earlier I'd felt physically exhausted. I didn't anymore, though. I was wide awake and it bugged me because I knew my sudden burst of insomnia would come back to kick me in the ass later.
I didn't want to be angry anymore, but I'd been fighting the anger for close to a week and that hadn't made it go away.
I should find a new approach.
I racked my mind for some other approach or just something else to think about.
At 2.41 I decided to ignore my anger instead of fighting it, and I let my eyes fall on Brendon again, for the first time in six days trying to focus on remembering all the things I loved about him rather than the things that pissed me off.
I loved how goofy and carefree he could be, making up for my more cynical and pessimistic nature.
I loved the innocence he still held, the naivety that was still there despite the fact that I had abused it so badly.
I loved his laugh, his voice, the way he was willing to express my thoughts when I couldn't myself.
I loved his concern. As much as it could bug me at times, I was grateful to know that someone put my wellbeing ahead of everything else.
I loved how he was weak and strong rolled into one. Strong enough for me to lean on when I needed it and weak and humble enough to be able to express it when he was the one in need of a shoulder.
I loved him for constantly throwing extra chances at me, for being so much more than I could ever deserve.
I glanced over at his sleeping form again, observing the rise and fall of his bare, slightly muscled chest that was only half-way covered by the covers. His dark hair was tousled, and somehow the fact that it wasn't as perfect as during the day made it all the more beautiful. His angled, chiseled face with the strong nose and chin was relaxed, full soft lips slightly parted. His eyes were closed, long, thick lashes lying flat against the top of his cheeks. I could remember those eyes perfectly, though. Darker, deeper, more soulful than any others I'd ever seen.
Yeah, I loved all those things about him though. I mean, I didn't love him because he was good-looking, but I loved his looks because they were such an extension of his soul. Well, at least that makes sense to me.
I loved the way he was always being him, never changing for the comfort of others, but at the same time I loved him for his ability to put his own needs in the backseat out of respect for me.
I adored his smile.
Actually, at the moment I couldn't come up with a single thing about him I didn't love. The anger was gone, just like that. Why the hell hadn't I thought about reminding myself how and why I loved him before? Could've spared us both loads of heartache.
I was overcome with a new sense of tenderness towards him, one that hadn't even been there before he'd unknowingly made the mistake of calling me a girl.
And for the first time in nearly a week, I craved closeness.
At 3.13 I crawled out of my bed and silently walked the two steps to his before gently lifting his covers, trying desperately to let him stay asleep. I crept in next to him, not touching him but being inveloped in his scent and bodyheat, his precence basically. And for the first time in a while I was completely at ease.
I also, all of a sudden, understood his 'sexual frustration'. It wasn't really about that, it was because the level I'd strived so hard to reach, the level where sex would become 'lovemaking' and would be about unity rather than hormones, that was the level he was already at and had been at for a while. It wasn't about release, not about teenage hormones, it was about closeness, love, intimacy, that whole deal. And I felt incredibly sorry for having had to deny him that.
Me, I'd always had a bad relationship to sex. It had never really been about love. As a matter of fact, love and sex had been two completely seperate things in my mind, two things that never added up. The past girlfriends I'd had it with, well, it's hard to explain, but I had a Catholic upbringing and for the longest time I more or less believed in waiting with sex until marriage. So I never took the step and had sex with a girl while I was so in love that I believed it would last forever. It was always when the feelings started to crumble, when I thought I could save my feelings for the girl by taking the next step. In all cases it had saved me a few extra weeks of the relationship in question, but had given me a feeling of being filthy, of having given myself away needlessly.
After the night I'd had sex with Brendon, it had become so much worse. It had been completely selfish, been about nothing but me, my identity as a guy and, yeah, the aforementioned teenage hormones. It had all been about the release and the short while of ignorance it gave me, been about drowning out bigger problems.
In fact Brendon was probably the person I'd come closest to have actual proper intentions and reasons for having sex with. I'd loved him, it had been selfless. In a way it HAD been about giving myself to another person.
I shook the thoughts away and layed down my head against one of his pillows. My nose was in his hair, but that was all the touching there was.
This I suddenly found frustrating, because all of a sudden, without really knowing how, I'd reached the point I'd sought. I was yearning for him, but it was as much mentally as it was physically. In that moment I knew, clearer than ever and without a single doubt, that I loved him and wasn't about to stop doing that.
But Brendon just had to be asleep when I was finally ready, right?
I sighed soundlessly, decided to try once again to fall asleep. I didn't want to wake him, he needed his sleep.
So I nuzzled my face further into his thick, soft mane of hair and matched my breathing with his, hoping that perhaps that would transfer some of his sleeping abilities onto me.
"Ryan?" a sleepy voice asked after a moment, and he turned to lie on his side, facing me completely.
I must've been grinning like an idiot when I plunged my lips against his, my hands reaching out to settle first on his shoulders, then running up and down his upper arms, awkwardly carressing.
His hands went to my cheeks, his eyes still wide open. They changed in a matter of moments from sleepy to surprised to ecstatic. Then they closed.
I closed my own as well, running my tongue lightly across his lower lip.
His mouth opened willingly and I was free to deepen the kiss, letting my tongue roam about as I mentally mapped out every bit of what I felt.
We broke away for air and he rested his forehead against mine, slowly opening his eyes. "Not mad?"
"No, I told I was stupid to be in the first place, didn't I?" I replied, smiling again before pressing my lips back against his.
He put his arms around my waist now and rolled onto his back, bringing me on top of him.
I took the offered opportunity and straddled him, still working the kiss at the same time.
He responded easily to the kiss, deepening it desperately, but his hips lay slack.
Suddenly I inwardly laughed. Why the hell had I expected him to be the initiator after denying him all of this for so long?
As a response to my own conclusion, I ground my hips down against his, with that single step taking us further than we'd really been while we were together.
He let a small moan go into my mouth and I smiled into the kiss, repeating the move.
This time he ground back up against me, seemingly as desperate for the contact as I.
The friction shot through my body, forcing a gutteral groan out of my mouth.
We broke the kiss for air again and I opened my eyes again to find him looking up at me with wonder in his eyes. At the same time the insecurities were still there and there was a look of concern behind the joy.
"If you aren't going to go through with it, can we please stop now?" he choked out.
"I'm not going to stop," I answered as a reassurance before crashing my hips against his again, receiving a breathy moan.
I smiled him and pecked his lips once before placing kisses down his jaw and his neck before reaching his chest. I let my hands trace down his side, examining and carressing the smooth skin as I kept kissing. As I got bolder, I added in a bit of licking, biting, sucking here and there, anything to make him feel good. Because after everything that had happened, after everything I'd put him through, he deserved that.
Suddenly I remembered his reaction to the miniscule touch against his nipple last time something like this had happened, and quickly made for that part of his chest, latching my lips onto his nipple and sucked slightly, eliciting what sounded like a tense moan from him.
I smiled, let go and blew on the bud lightly, causing him to shiver before moving further down.
I paused slightly as I reached the hem of his boxers. But the hesitation had nothing to do with disgust the way it would've had a few months earlier. It was the fact that I'd never done this before and didn't want it to feel bad.
Finally I took a deep breath and removed my hands from his sides to start tugging the boxers off.
"Ryan," he breathed. "You don't have to..."
Once again I could hear the concern in his voice, but this time it wasn't concern for whether or not I was still lying, it was for my wellbeing, for our relationship.
But I wanted to make it as good for him as I possibly could. And some odd little part of me surfaced to tell me that I wanted to do this for myself as well, that I'd like doing it. "I want to," I simply muttered before bending my head.
I had no idea what to do, really, so to begin with I just kissed the tip a few times before taking the first few inches inside, trying to grow accustomed to the sensations.
He moaned loudly and I felt both his hands reach out and grab my hair.
Remembering my own reaction when it had been the other way around, I quickly pushed a hand down onto his hips to hold him steady. I twirled my tongue around a bit, still uncertain, before I finally took him further in. I nearly gagged on him, not used to shoving things like that down my throat, but I squeezed my eyes shut, finally managing to take him in all the way.
I bobbed off a bit again and repeated the procedure a few times.
He was shaking, moaning, and his grip on my hair was going slack. "So close..." I heard him stutter out.
I released him. And it was honestly not because I was afraid to let him cum in my mouth, I was way passed the point of being bothered by that thought by then. It was simply that small wish of reaching zenith alongside him.
With the salty taste of his precum already in my mouth, I crawled back up to him and pressed my mouth against his again, plunging my lip through the gap that still existed between his lips from the panting and moaning he'd been doing.
He kissed back eagerly, his hand habitually wandering to my crotch, where he grabbed my already hard member and stroked.
It was my turn to moan into his mouth, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.
I broke the kiss and searched his eyes slowly. They were burning, reflecting the love and desire I felt pulsing within me. "Top ot bottom?" I asked huskily, deciding to take the practical approach.
"Bottom," he answered, without a moment's hesitation.
I took a fraction of a moment to ponder his decision.
Perhaps being the one on top would remind him of the things that had followed in the wake of the last time that had happened.
Perhaps it was the final test of my feelings; if I could be the one doing it, then there was no way I was completely straight anymore.
But as much as I wish I could, I was incapable of reading his mind. And at the moment his reasons didn't really matter. At the moment I felt better about this solution as well.
So I simply nodded, pecking his mouth quickly. "Lube?" I asked against his lips.
He shook his head. "I ran out," he explained, a tiny bit of red suddenly crossing his cheeks.
"You've been keeping your right hand busy," I muttered teasingly.
The bits of red became a full-out blush, the deepest I'd ever seen on him, I think.
"You weren't exactly paying much attention to Mini Brendon," he muttered. "Somebody had to. I thought you'd prefer that it were myself."
I nearly laughed, but the situation we were in at the moment was too frustrating. But still, Mini Brendon? I'd had 'Mini' Brendon up my ass and there was nothing Mini about it.
I opted on rolling my eyes before moving off him, lying down next to him.
"What're you doing?" he asked.
"We're not doing it tonight," I answered, frustration lacing in my voice.
"You promised me you'd go through with it," he muttered.
"And I will. When we have lube." I turned onto my side to look him seriously in the eye. "I don't want to hurt you, Bren, and I promise you that while it'll hurt no matter what we do, it'll hurt like a fucking bitch without lube."
"It doesn't matter," he insisted relentlessly. "I just fucking want you in me."
I groaned loudly at the fact that I couldn't just let myself comply, but still didn't move.
He did, though, grabbed my hand and started leading it towards his mouth. "This is as good as it's going to get," he replied. "Now quit ruining the mood."
With that said, he put my first finger into his mouth, coating it in spit as well as he could before moving on to the next one.
"One more," I quickly said, noticing that he was about to stop after the two. Matt had said three and Matt sure as hell knew more about this than I did.
He raised an eyebrow but complied before releasing my hand.
I took a deep breath and positioned myself between his spread legs, raising them for easy access. Then I entered the first finger, wincing out of worry as I kept it still for a moment to allow him to adjust.
Then number two and three entered in turn and I started the scissoring motions, stretching him as much as I possibly could.
"Quit it," I heard him mutter. "It's enough, just come up here."
I was slightly doubtful, but I decided to let him have his way. A certain bodypart of mine was pretty much burning up anyway, I was getting impatient.
I got off the bed and took off my own boxers before walked up so I was standing in front of him.
In one swift motion he had me in his mouth, all way in, and I choked back a loud moan as he bobbed off, leaving me lubricated in saliva. He was right, we couldn't stop now and what we had done for his comfort was as good as it was going to get.
I got back on the bed and crawled in between his legs, which he quickly curled around my waist.
One more deep breath and then I pushed inside, as slowly and carefully as I possibly could. I hitched another breath as the close to painful tightness started taking my senses away.
I reached out and grabbed his hand. "Squeeze it if you need me to stop," I hitched out before biting my lip slowly. "I love you, alright?"
His eyes that had mirrored pain the moment before were now suddenly bursting with happiness.
Oh yeah, I just remembered that this was the first time I'd been the first one to say it.
"Love you too," he muttered. "Move!"
I leaned forward and kissed him quickly before pulling almost all the way out, letting go of a moan at the friction. Then I pushed back in, a bit harder than before. I was desperate to find his prostate to make it better for him, but at the same time I was so far gone that I could barely think.
I changed the angle a bit and pushed in again, this time receiving a loud moan.
I was relieved on his behalf for a moment, then he interrupted me. "Fucking harder!"
Alright, he was definitely one of those people who were usually pretty innocent but had a fucking dirty mouth in bed. I hadn't noticed the last time, but perhaps he'd been too busy worrying about me to live it out back then?
I complied, though, why shouldn't I?
I built up a pace, nearly seeing stars for every inch I moved. The tightness was unlike anything I'd felt before, unlike anything I'd ever experienced with any girl. And even though I knew exactly how exhausted I already was, I never wanted it to end.
He was working with me, bucking his hips up to match my pace, letting me go deeper than I'd ever have thought possible.
And I WAS feeling the unity I'd imagined, for fragmented moments forgetting that we were two seperate people.
As I started to feel close, I decided to copy his move from the first time and wrapped my hand clumsily around his length, my head nearly spinning too much to be able to manage the strokes.
He was leaking again as I noticed through a deep haze, and his moans and obscenities were reaching a level where I was afraid the people in the rooms next to us would get us kicked out of the hotel.
Then his muscles started cleching, making the already tight space unbearable.
I moaned out his name as I felt the orgasm grab me, trying to ride it out as he came all over our stomachs with something that was more of a scream than anything.
I collapsed on his chest, panting and sweating as I met his eyes, slowly pulling out and crawling up to place a sweet, closed-mouthed kiss on his lips.
He just smiled and ran a hand through my hair. "Let's go to sleep," he muttered.
I nodded and just stayed on his chest, too tired to move or talk or anything. I nuzzled my face into his neck, breathing in his scent that was mixed with the sweat from our ended act.
I fell asleep with a smile on my lips, happier than I'd been for a long time.
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Rating: NC-17 (yeah, you're finally getting what you've been wanting)
Summary: It had been incredibly ironic that the same boy who'd been so impatient for sex had been able to glow for hours after having received a mere two second long touch of lips on lips.
As I said, he was admirable.
Not that he wasn't still impatient. I had my suspicions as to why he was suddenly spending an abundance of time in the various bathrooms wherever we were.
Notes: It's pretty looong. Thirteen pages in Word, so... Anyway, hope you like it. Read 'Decisions Compromise Your Future' - it rocks!
Hopefully more tomorrow.
Disclaimer: I don't own, know, believe or want to get sued. That's just not my idea of fun.
Chapter 20
The stiff sheets were scratching at my legs and the city lights had put the hotel room in a state between dark and light, which bugged my tired eyes to no end.
The clock on my Sidekick read 02.03 am. We had a wakeup call ordered for 6.30 to enable us of catching the plane back to Vegas. I hadn't slept yet.
I sighed softly, almost soundlessly and shifted a bit in the itchy sheets.
Last night of the tour had come and left. The final show had been awesome beyond words. Everybody in all three bands had played out their souls, the atmostphere had been great, the crowd indescribable. If I hadn't already been sure, nights like these could still remind me why I was in the music business.
Brent, Brendon, Spencer and I had hung out with Sonny the whole night while everybody else partied because someone had alerted the police to the fact that there might be uderage drinking happening at the afterparty. Sonny had bitched and Brent had looked quite annoyed, but personally I was kind of happy I didn't have to be the only sober person around.
Yeah, Brendon and I still hung out. I mean, I still loved him, why wouldn't I want to spend time with him?
He still slept in his own bunk for the rest of the tour, though, and let me initiate any 'couplish' act or touching, wanting to make sure not to grind at my boundaries.
And while I was still mad at him, I was just as mad at myself because the whole situation was bugging me so much more than it should be.
The way Brendon handled it all was admirable. Never had I appreciated his sudden patience and understanding more. And I suspect that if he hadn't possessed these virtues, Matt would've been right about us not lasting the rest of the tour.
We had, though, lasted the rest of the tour, that is. Even with touching and those things at a minimum. I think that during the six days that had passed since Bren's slip-up we'd held hands about a dozen times and I'd pecked his cheek probably twice and his lips a grand total of one.
It had been incredibly ironic that the same boy who'd been so impatient for sex had been able to glow for hours after having received a mere two second long touch of lips on lips.
As I said, he was admirable.
Not that he wasn't still impatient. I had my suspicions as to why he was suddenly spending an abundance of time in the various bathrooms wherever we were.
But throughout it all, I still wasn't over those words and my anger was barely subsiding. I needed it to, though. For some reason I felt like I needed the matter resolved within myself before returning to Las Vegas.
I turned again, now looking over at Brendon, who was asleep on the other bed.
The room arrangements had been made earlier, before the initial conflict between him and myself had started. Nobody had bothered to change it, even in the period where we hadn't been able to even look at each other without jumping into a fit of rage.
Brent had offered to trade rooms with me, whisperingly of course, but apparently nobody knows about Brendon's above average hearing but me, so he hadn't gone far enough away and the vocalist had heard.
I'd seriously considered agreeing. Being alone in a hotel room would be very different from sleeping on the same bus as him AND two other guys.
The hurt, confused look on the face of my boyfriend had kept me from doing it, though.
I'd turned Brent down and watched a small smile form on Brendon's face before leaving the room.
All this led me to here, the hotel room, lying only a few feet away from Brendon who was soundly asleep.
My Sidekick was reading 2.17 now.
People say time passes quickly when you're having fun. In my point of view it just completely vanishes when you're thinking.
I couldn't sleep for some reason, didn't even mentally feel tired although a few hours earlier I'd felt physically exhausted. I didn't anymore, though. I was wide awake and it bugged me because I knew my sudden burst of insomnia would come back to kick me in the ass later.
I didn't want to be angry anymore, but I'd been fighting the anger for close to a week and that hadn't made it go away.
I should find a new approach.
I racked my mind for some other approach or just something else to think about.
At 2.41 I decided to ignore my anger instead of fighting it, and I let my eyes fall on Brendon again, for the first time in six days trying to focus on remembering all the things I loved about him rather than the things that pissed me off.
I loved how goofy and carefree he could be, making up for my more cynical and pessimistic nature.
I loved the innocence he still held, the naivety that was still there despite the fact that I had abused it so badly.
I loved his laugh, his voice, the way he was willing to express my thoughts when I couldn't myself.
I loved his concern. As much as it could bug me at times, I was grateful to know that someone put my wellbeing ahead of everything else.
I loved how he was weak and strong rolled into one. Strong enough for me to lean on when I needed it and weak and humble enough to be able to express it when he was the one in need of a shoulder.
I loved him for constantly throwing extra chances at me, for being so much more than I could ever deserve.
I glanced over at his sleeping form again, observing the rise and fall of his bare, slightly muscled chest that was only half-way covered by the covers. His dark hair was tousled, and somehow the fact that it wasn't as perfect as during the day made it all the more beautiful. His angled, chiseled face with the strong nose and chin was relaxed, full soft lips slightly parted. His eyes were closed, long, thick lashes lying flat against the top of his cheeks. I could remember those eyes perfectly, though. Darker, deeper, more soulful than any others I'd ever seen.
Yeah, I loved all those things about him though. I mean, I didn't love him because he was good-looking, but I loved his looks because they were such an extension of his soul. Well, at least that makes sense to me.
I loved the way he was always being him, never changing for the comfort of others, but at the same time I loved him for his ability to put his own needs in the backseat out of respect for me.
I adored his smile.
Actually, at the moment I couldn't come up with a single thing about him I didn't love. The anger was gone, just like that. Why the hell hadn't I thought about reminding myself how and why I loved him before? Could've spared us both loads of heartache.
I was overcome with a new sense of tenderness towards him, one that hadn't even been there before he'd unknowingly made the mistake of calling me a girl.
And for the first time in nearly a week, I craved closeness.
At 3.13 I crawled out of my bed and silently walked the two steps to his before gently lifting his covers, trying desperately to let him stay asleep. I crept in next to him, not touching him but being inveloped in his scent and bodyheat, his precence basically. And for the first time in a while I was completely at ease.
I also, all of a sudden, understood his 'sexual frustration'. It wasn't really about that, it was because the level I'd strived so hard to reach, the level where sex would become 'lovemaking' and would be about unity rather than hormones, that was the level he was already at and had been at for a while. It wasn't about release, not about teenage hormones, it was about closeness, love, intimacy, that whole deal. And I felt incredibly sorry for having had to deny him that.
Me, I'd always had a bad relationship to sex. It had never really been about love. As a matter of fact, love and sex had been two completely seperate things in my mind, two things that never added up. The past girlfriends I'd had it with, well, it's hard to explain, but I had a Catholic upbringing and for the longest time I more or less believed in waiting with sex until marriage. So I never took the step and had sex with a girl while I was so in love that I believed it would last forever. It was always when the feelings started to crumble, when I thought I could save my feelings for the girl by taking the next step. In all cases it had saved me a few extra weeks of the relationship in question, but had given me a feeling of being filthy, of having given myself away needlessly.
After the night I'd had sex with Brendon, it had become so much worse. It had been completely selfish, been about nothing but me, my identity as a guy and, yeah, the aforementioned teenage hormones. It had all been about the release and the short while of ignorance it gave me, been about drowning out bigger problems.
In fact Brendon was probably the person I'd come closest to have actual proper intentions and reasons for having sex with. I'd loved him, it had been selfless. In a way it HAD been about giving myself to another person.
I shook the thoughts away and layed down my head against one of his pillows. My nose was in his hair, but that was all the touching there was.
This I suddenly found frustrating, because all of a sudden, without really knowing how, I'd reached the point I'd sought. I was yearning for him, but it was as much mentally as it was physically. In that moment I knew, clearer than ever and without a single doubt, that I loved him and wasn't about to stop doing that.
But Brendon just had to be asleep when I was finally ready, right?
I sighed soundlessly, decided to try once again to fall asleep. I didn't want to wake him, he needed his sleep.
So I nuzzled my face further into his thick, soft mane of hair and matched my breathing with his, hoping that perhaps that would transfer some of his sleeping abilities onto me.
"Ryan?" a sleepy voice asked after a moment, and he turned to lie on his side, facing me completely.
I must've been grinning like an idiot when I plunged my lips against his, my hands reaching out to settle first on his shoulders, then running up and down his upper arms, awkwardly carressing.
His hands went to my cheeks, his eyes still wide open. They changed in a matter of moments from sleepy to surprised to ecstatic. Then they closed.
I closed my own as well, running my tongue lightly across his lower lip.
His mouth opened willingly and I was free to deepen the kiss, letting my tongue roam about as I mentally mapped out every bit of what I felt.
We broke away for air and he rested his forehead against mine, slowly opening his eyes. "Not mad?"
"No, I told I was stupid to be in the first place, didn't I?" I replied, smiling again before pressing my lips back against his.
He put his arms around my waist now and rolled onto his back, bringing me on top of him.
I took the offered opportunity and straddled him, still working the kiss at the same time.
He responded easily to the kiss, deepening it desperately, but his hips lay slack.
Suddenly I inwardly laughed. Why the hell had I expected him to be the initiator after denying him all of this for so long?
As a response to my own conclusion, I ground my hips down against his, with that single step taking us further than we'd really been while we were together.
He let a small moan go into my mouth and I smiled into the kiss, repeating the move.
This time he ground back up against me, seemingly as desperate for the contact as I.
The friction shot through my body, forcing a gutteral groan out of my mouth.
We broke the kiss for air again and I opened my eyes again to find him looking up at me with wonder in his eyes. At the same time the insecurities were still there and there was a look of concern behind the joy.
"If you aren't going to go through with it, can we please stop now?" he choked out.
"I'm not going to stop," I answered as a reassurance before crashing my hips against his again, receiving a breathy moan.
I smiled him and pecked his lips once before placing kisses down his jaw and his neck before reaching his chest. I let my hands trace down his side, examining and carressing the smooth skin as I kept kissing. As I got bolder, I added in a bit of licking, biting, sucking here and there, anything to make him feel good. Because after everything that had happened, after everything I'd put him through, he deserved that.
Suddenly I remembered his reaction to the miniscule touch against his nipple last time something like this had happened, and quickly made for that part of his chest, latching my lips onto his nipple and sucked slightly, eliciting what sounded like a tense moan from him.
I smiled, let go and blew on the bud lightly, causing him to shiver before moving further down.
I paused slightly as I reached the hem of his boxers. But the hesitation had nothing to do with disgust the way it would've had a few months earlier. It was the fact that I'd never done this before and didn't want it to feel bad.
Finally I took a deep breath and removed my hands from his sides to start tugging the boxers off.
"Ryan," he breathed. "You don't have to..."
Once again I could hear the concern in his voice, but this time it wasn't concern for whether or not I was still lying, it was for my wellbeing, for our relationship.
But I wanted to make it as good for him as I possibly could. And some odd little part of me surfaced to tell me that I wanted to do this for myself as well, that I'd like doing it. "I want to," I simply muttered before bending my head.
I had no idea what to do, really, so to begin with I just kissed the tip a few times before taking the first few inches inside, trying to grow accustomed to the sensations.
He moaned loudly and I felt both his hands reach out and grab my hair.
Remembering my own reaction when it had been the other way around, I quickly pushed a hand down onto his hips to hold him steady. I twirled my tongue around a bit, still uncertain, before I finally took him further in. I nearly gagged on him, not used to shoving things like that down my throat, but I squeezed my eyes shut, finally managing to take him in all the way.
I bobbed off a bit again and repeated the procedure a few times.
He was shaking, moaning, and his grip on my hair was going slack. "So close..." I heard him stutter out.
I released him. And it was honestly not because I was afraid to let him cum in my mouth, I was way passed the point of being bothered by that thought by then. It was simply that small wish of reaching zenith alongside him.
With the salty taste of his precum already in my mouth, I crawled back up to him and pressed my mouth against his again, plunging my lip through the gap that still existed between his lips from the panting and moaning he'd been doing.
He kissed back eagerly, his hand habitually wandering to my crotch, where he grabbed my already hard member and stroked.
It was my turn to moan into his mouth, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.
I broke the kiss and searched his eyes slowly. They were burning, reflecting the love and desire I felt pulsing within me. "Top ot bottom?" I asked huskily, deciding to take the practical approach.
"Bottom," he answered, without a moment's hesitation.
I took a fraction of a moment to ponder his decision.
Perhaps being the one on top would remind him of the things that had followed in the wake of the last time that had happened.
Perhaps it was the final test of my feelings; if I could be the one doing it, then there was no way I was completely straight anymore.
But as much as I wish I could, I was incapable of reading his mind. And at the moment his reasons didn't really matter. At the moment I felt better about this solution as well.
So I simply nodded, pecking his mouth quickly. "Lube?" I asked against his lips.
He shook his head. "I ran out," he explained, a tiny bit of red suddenly crossing his cheeks.
"You've been keeping your right hand busy," I muttered teasingly.
The bits of red became a full-out blush, the deepest I'd ever seen on him, I think.
"You weren't exactly paying much attention to Mini Brendon," he muttered. "Somebody had to. I thought you'd prefer that it were myself."
I nearly laughed, but the situation we were in at the moment was too frustrating. But still, Mini Brendon? I'd had 'Mini' Brendon up my ass and there was nothing Mini about it.
I opted on rolling my eyes before moving off him, lying down next to him.
"What're you doing?" he asked.
"We're not doing it tonight," I answered, frustration lacing in my voice.
"You promised me you'd go through with it," he muttered.
"And I will. When we have lube." I turned onto my side to look him seriously in the eye. "I don't want to hurt you, Bren, and I promise you that while it'll hurt no matter what we do, it'll hurt like a fucking bitch without lube."
"It doesn't matter," he insisted relentlessly. "I just fucking want you in me."
I groaned loudly at the fact that I couldn't just let myself comply, but still didn't move.
He did, though, grabbed my hand and started leading it towards his mouth. "This is as good as it's going to get," he replied. "Now quit ruining the mood."
With that said, he put my first finger into his mouth, coating it in spit as well as he could before moving on to the next one.
"One more," I quickly said, noticing that he was about to stop after the two. Matt had said three and Matt sure as hell knew more about this than I did.
He raised an eyebrow but complied before releasing my hand.
I took a deep breath and positioned myself between his spread legs, raising them for easy access. Then I entered the first finger, wincing out of worry as I kept it still for a moment to allow him to adjust.
Then number two and three entered in turn and I started the scissoring motions, stretching him as much as I possibly could.
"Quit it," I heard him mutter. "It's enough, just come up here."
I was slightly doubtful, but I decided to let him have his way. A certain bodypart of mine was pretty much burning up anyway, I was getting impatient.
I got off the bed and took off my own boxers before walked up so I was standing in front of him.
In one swift motion he had me in his mouth, all way in, and I choked back a loud moan as he bobbed off, leaving me lubricated in saliva. He was right, we couldn't stop now and what we had done for his comfort was as good as it was going to get.
I got back on the bed and crawled in between his legs, which he quickly curled around my waist.
One more deep breath and then I pushed inside, as slowly and carefully as I possibly could. I hitched another breath as the close to painful tightness started taking my senses away.
I reached out and grabbed his hand. "Squeeze it if you need me to stop," I hitched out before biting my lip slowly. "I love you, alright?"
His eyes that had mirrored pain the moment before were now suddenly bursting with happiness.
Oh yeah, I just remembered that this was the first time I'd been the first one to say it.
"Love you too," he muttered. "Move!"
I leaned forward and kissed him quickly before pulling almost all the way out, letting go of a moan at the friction. Then I pushed back in, a bit harder than before. I was desperate to find his prostate to make it better for him, but at the same time I was so far gone that I could barely think.
I changed the angle a bit and pushed in again, this time receiving a loud moan.
I was relieved on his behalf for a moment, then he interrupted me. "Fucking harder!"
Alright, he was definitely one of those people who were usually pretty innocent but had a fucking dirty mouth in bed. I hadn't noticed the last time, but perhaps he'd been too busy worrying about me to live it out back then?
I complied, though, why shouldn't I?
I built up a pace, nearly seeing stars for every inch I moved. The tightness was unlike anything I'd felt before, unlike anything I'd ever experienced with any girl. And even though I knew exactly how exhausted I already was, I never wanted it to end.
He was working with me, bucking his hips up to match my pace, letting me go deeper than I'd ever have thought possible.
And I WAS feeling the unity I'd imagined, for fragmented moments forgetting that we were two seperate people.
As I started to feel close, I decided to copy his move from the first time and wrapped my hand clumsily around his length, my head nearly spinning too much to be able to manage the strokes.
He was leaking again as I noticed through a deep haze, and his moans and obscenities were reaching a level where I was afraid the people in the rooms next to us would get us kicked out of the hotel.
Then his muscles started cleching, making the already tight space unbearable.
I moaned out his name as I felt the orgasm grab me, trying to ride it out as he came all over our stomachs with something that was more of a scream than anything.
I collapsed on his chest, panting and sweating as I met his eyes, slowly pulling out and crawling up to place a sweet, closed-mouthed kiss on his lips.
He just smiled and ran a hand through my hair. "Let's go to sleep," he muttered.
I nodded and just stayed on his chest, too tired to move or talk or anything. I nuzzled my face into his neck, breathing in his scent that was mixed with the sweat from our ended act.
I fell asleep with a smile on my lips, happier than I'd been for a long time.